Brisbane to Keppel: Christine Hunter

2020 Brisbane to Keppel Yacht Race: a first for a new sailor

By Christine Hunter

Rum was the drink of choice for me and my new friends as we crossed the finish line of the 2020 Brisbane to Keppel Yacht Race. It was 6.15 am, sunrise, Sunday the 2nd of August and I didn’t drink rum – until then! I was toasting the completion of my first ocean yacht race with the crew of Fruit Salid 3, the beautiful Beneteau First 40. My exhaustion-infused elation had me celebrating and reliving many ‘firsts’ with these five men, all unknown to me just 48 hours prior. The skipper and his crew were celebrating many firsts too, all of which would make great stories of salty tales as is expected after such an exhilarating challenge.

New to sailing at the age of 50, an ocean yacht race was a dream for me, which then became a goal. I was in a hurry to participate in such events and gain experience to learn and contribute productively to the next event, and the next! I was thrilled to be a part of this team, congratulating, exaggerating, laughing, and learning after our two days and two nights at sea together. But even more

The finish.

impressive were the skipper and his crew who welcomed me on board just 16 hours before the race began. The only female, the oldest crew member, and no ocean racing experience.

How did this eventuate? I had lost my job, and recently completed my last treatment for breast cancer, so I had a bit of spare time up my sleeve. Advised of the side effects of radiotherapy, I had put the weekend aside to spend on the couch recuperating. My friends all advised me that I should indulge myself and do whatever makes me happy: reading, knitting, eating, Netflix. All good ideas. All things I love. But I happened to love sailing more!

The seed was planted at a routine Wednesday afternoon sailing, (WAGS) just two days before the event. My skipper from the magnificent Archambault 40, Broadsword, mentioned to me that a yacht needed a lastminute crew member for the Brisbane to Keppel Race on Friday. He knew of my goal to sail in an ocean yacht race and thought I might be interested. Hesitating, I simply asked, ‘Would you take me if you were going?’ ‘Yes’ was his answer. Buoyed by his confidence in me I considered it. I was willing. I wanted it, but maturity and common sense filled me with questions. So, I slept on it.

My adventurous spirit prevailed and on the Thursday morning I decided I’d rather be sailing than lying on a couch. I asked myself, ‘surely I won’t notice the side effects and symptoms if I’m at sea, sailing, doing what I love?’ I tracked down the yacht that needed crew – too late, position filled. I’d made up my mind and my determined plan was to sail tomorrow in my first ocean yacht race. The planets were aligned!

I sent a message to RQYS (Royal Queensland Yacht Squadron) with my inquiry; ‘I’d like to sail in the B2K, tomorrow, does anyone need crew?’ The race organiser understood and asked for my dossier, my resume. I didn’t have much to offer except something like; ‘I’ve been sailing for three years, crewing for two years, participated in the ‘SheSails’ regattas in Mooloolaba and Newcastle (I did not mention my placings!), I’m fit(ish), don’t get seasick, can pack a spinnaker in a hurry, and I am a registered nurse with medical skills.’ Not quite enough for an ocean race, so I also mentioned that I had trekked in remote places including The Kokoda Track and Everest Base Camp, that I am resourceful, stoic, capable and most importantly, positive. Fingers crossed!

This message went out to all the skippers participating. By 3 pm that same afternoon, Fruit Salid 3’s owner and skipper, Mark Drobitko contacted me and said he could do with one more crew member (after all they would like longer sleep breaks!). We met briefly. Mark decided he liked my ‘can do attitude’ and said that I needed to be on board tomorrow morning at 7.15 am.

It was happening and I needed to get equipped. I borrowed wet weather gear and thermals, bought a Personal Locator Beacon, chocolate coated coffee beans, and new deck shoes (a slippery mistake!). Oh, and I told my adult sons that I would be incommunicado for several days at sea, then packed my bag.

I arrived at 7 am, met the crew and familiarised myself with Fruit Salid 3. The conditions gave us an invigorating first day. 25-30 knot south easterly winds had us surfing down welcome, silky waves, accompanied by dolphins and whales close enough to touch. Our spirits were high. The atmosphere was filled with our confidence, enthusiasm, and excitement. I was incredibly happy indeed to be in this surreal environment.

We blew the first kite at sunset and I learnt that it is exceedingly difficult to get a kite down the forward hatch and companionway s i m u l t a n e o u s l y, w i t h s i x p e o p l e e nt husia st ica lly par t ic ipa ti n g i n this emergency. This may explain the extent of the damage to those of you who have experienced this!

My shift comes around quickly that first night. At 2 am I am hunched down in the cockpit, shivering, teeth chattering in the cold drizzling rain and I ask myself ‘why?’ as I had momentary thoughts of a hot bath, a soft bed, and a stable toilet. I remember that I am ‘stoic’ and must shift these distracting thoughts to keep my enthusiasm alive (I know I cannot disappoint them). Then as if on cue, the stunning silhouette of a dolphin appeared as it leapt out in front of me, a black shape in the night gifting me with the present. Alerted, I look up and notice an ethereal white rainbow, a phenomenon projected onto the moonlit horizon. Its veil of delicate silk inviting my imagination to explore beyond it. I am certain the man in the moon ‘winked’ at me and I wondered if I was dreaming. But I was wide awake and silently grateful for the gentle, welcome rain. I could see the glow of a companion yacht in the distance. I think of them as a sailor does, with meaningful best wishes for smooth sailing. I felt privileged to be a guest in this exhilarating aquatic theatre, choreographed by nature. We trim the sails, eat Tim-Tams and I am warmed by the activity. I wake, on my first morning to nausea. This is not meant to happen; I don’t get sea-sick! So once again I know I must direct my thoughts elsewhere. I look at the sunrise with awe and admire the surprising, intermittent performances of whales breaching, their slaps and blows in the distance, and join the verbal applause with my crew as we delight in such displays. Still nauseated, I hum ‘Edelweiss’ to myself (the only song I know all the words to), eat one salty chip, and feel better, for which I am grateful as the exceptional catering has me eating heartily with these men as the day progresses.

We blow the second kite that night. No more kite packing. After this ‘all hands-on deck’ event, we watch the numbers on the tachometer drop. Our skipper emerges and articulates the expletives that is expected by a seasoned sailor as he watches the dollar signs dissolve into the sea before him. He composes himself and remains positive and reassuring. I’m impressed. We sail on. The second night of my first ocean yacht race is energising and I know I’ve made the right choice. I think big. I make plans and continue to dream.

Docked at sunrise and with Fruit Salid 3 at rest, we eat burgers and absorb the enthusiastic welcome of those who greet us. The stories continue. We are loud and preserved with rum and salt. It feels good. We feel heroic. We congratulate ourselves as one, we are a team.

As the celebrations continue ashore, I return alone to my bunk and quietly reflect. I feel grateful for the inspiring sailors I have met over the past three years, female and male, young and not so young, for sharing their honest stories of endurance and resilience, all infused with humour, all unique, all impressive. Without these stories, I would not have had this experience. I recall bravely asking Stacey Jackson at her 2019 International Women’s day talk on her Volvo and Sydney to Hobart races, ‘How old is too

old to sail these ocean races?’ her reply, as expected, was ‘you’re never too old’ and gave examples of mature women who continue to sail professionally and continue to inspire. Jeanne Socrates is a perfect example.

Resting from the rum, I contact my Broadsword sailing mates via email, update them, and thank them for supporting me, equipping me, and enabling me with the opportunities to prepare for my first ocean race. They reply with hearty congratulations and I miss them. I climb Fan Rock at Double Head to celebrate. Fruit Salid 3 looks peaceful from this distance, and I admire her. I feel a connection to this magnificent, capable lady, and I continue to ponder on her name, ‘How could something so exquisite be christened with the name Fruit Salid 3?’ well that is just another story that only her owner can tell!

I was thrilled with this experience to say the least, but more notable was the opportunity gifted me by like-minded persons who ‘got it,’ a silent understanding, no explanation So, what’s next on my liquid horizon? I’m not sure, but my bag is packed and I’m ready to set sail again… tomorrow!

The celebratory climb up Fan Rock.

he celebratory climb up Fan Rock