MAX EBB
"T
ee up the windseeker for a peel change," called the watch captain.
could hear the forward jib lead track being readjusted, and then hear and feel more heavy feet on deck as the change sheet was strung through the block and attached to the clew of the new sail. The pawls in the big winch right over my head clattered as the slack was taken in, blotting out the sound of the bag unzipping and the head and tack of the sails being pulled out to attach to the new halyard and tack pin. "Hoist!" I heard the call from the cockpit. Now there was another winch rattling as a length of halyard tail equal to the full length of our jib luff made its way around one of the halyard winches. "I wish they would just hand-overhand it when there's no load," I complained to Lee. "Boys," Lee shrugged. There was more noise on deck as the old jib was pulled down. "Slowly there!" yelled someone on deck. "We can flake it as it comes down." All this time the mainsail was still slatting from side to side as each set of swells rolled the boat. We must have drifted around so they were coming at us beam-on. I could feel the occasional attempts by the driver to scull the boat back to his preferred course. A new sound was added to the mix after the lazy running backstay was brought forward, probably to avoid chafe on the main. With each roll of the boat there was a loud clang as it hit the leeward shroud. Then they tried a tack. Much running around, the amplified clatter of large winches with no load on them, and multiple sculling pulses from the tiller. The watch captain called down for people below to switch sides again, but Lee said not to bother — which was a
"I already told them how to turn all this wave energy into propulsion," Lee said. "But on a boat like this, I only make dissenting suggestions once, then keep it zipped." It was the expected call. The windseeker is a very light non-overlapping full-hoist jib, with a wind range of "zero to one," according to the sailmaker on board. I heard the forward hatch slide open, and felt the boat shudder as our biggest foredeck crew jumped down the hatch to pull out the sail. At the same time I Page 126 •
Latitude 38
• September, 2010
good call because we tacked back after two more minutes of slatting. "Speed?" I asked Lee again. "Still goose eggs," she sighed. "Zero point zero." The mainsail made a particularly loud crash and bang, and some of the water droplets that had condensed on
TEAM GROUPAMA
B
ang! Crash! Bang! There was no mistaking the sound of the mainsail slatting. We were out of wind. I had not really planned to get any sleep during my off-watch. In fact it wasn't even an official off-watch, because this was just a one-day race down the coast and watches had not been set. There'd been plenty of wind and we were making excellent time, but the finish could be well after midnight if we hit a calm spot, so I decided to rest in a quarter berth while conditions were stable. Fresh hands might be needed for the approach to the finish, when the wind can get goofy. Bang! Crash! Bang! The pleasant sound of water bubbling past the hull just a few inches from my ear had disappeared, and another set of swells caused the main boom to fling itself across the boat three or four times. "Everyone to leeward!" shouted the watch captain. "And you swabs down below, too," someone yelled down the main hatch. "No lollygagging on the high side." I was not amused. I yawned an expletive but obediently crawled out of one berth and into the corresponding berth on the downhill side. From here I could see Lee Helm at the chart table, dimly lit by the red instrument lights. "Speed?" I yawned as the mainsail crashed and slatted again. "Goose eggs," she answered. "How far to finish?" "No way we'll get there for dinner. We might even miss the midnight chili." "Glad I got some rest," I said. "I think most of the crew have been at it since the start. We'll need some fresh talent," I said through another yawn, "to get this thing moving in the light stuff."
the plastic and carbon sailcloth shook loose and found their way through the hatch and into my bunk. "Can't you do something?" I joked. "I totally already told them how to turn all this wave energy into propulsion," she said. "But that sailmaker guy knows better. On a big boat like this, with the professionals calling the shots, I only make dissenting suggestions once, and then I keep it zipped." That was out of character for Lee, but she knew the protocol.
L
ee turned back to her instruments and I tried to relax despite the crashing and banging. It felt as if we were inside a floating metal fatigue machine. "What's our ground speed average since we tacked?" demanded a loud voice from the cockpit. "We're going, like, backwards," Lee added after reading off the time-averaged ground speed and course from the GPS
