As soon as I get up and I do my morning fix (I did two fixes, one in the morning and one in the evening, and sometimes one at noon, to help with dead reckoning in the event of a failure of all navigation systems, I would probably still be able to find my way to Hawaii, or at least to near the islands, and close enough for my radio to take care of me)
So time to celebrate. About 1,000 miles to go. I estimate it will take me another week given the pace at which I was going - doing good while there was wind and on a reach and then going dead slow in the light stuff, probably too far North to get really decent wind.
That day I also have a resolution, but that will be right after the party.
A halfway party is a traditional in passages and offshore racing. In single handed sailing, it is a time for the sailor to renew briefly with the world. Strangely enough, I have found that inside the boat, everything is familiar, it is the same interior as when the boat is docked, or when you do coastal event. Inside the boat, you feel like you are in a protected cocoon. As soon as you go out you are taken by the beauty, immensity and savagery of the merciless ocean which is sometimes quite overwhelming. So I decide to have my party inside - that's where Elise and I can isolate ourselves from the world.
The past couple of days, just waking up was a chore as it reminded me of a post race reality I didn't want to have to face. But today, strong of my new resolution and because it is party time, I spring out of deck (I slept on deck during the light stuff) I don't even take the time to remove my head lamp.
I grab the kitties - they too should be part of the party. I turn on the music and select some Francis Cabrel songs. He is a French singer from the South of France. I think that we're complete now and the party can start.
It is customary in single handed sailing for friends and family (or supporters) to prepare a 'package' that is to be open at the halfway party. Of course, nothing about the race itself. Usually, these are notes, or small things that will remind the sailor of loved one. I absolutely loved my gifts.
Nathan coordinated everything and had numbered the gifts so I opened them in the order in which they were supposed to be opened. First, a little something to decorate the boat. It stayed up the rest of the trip.
Next something to decorate the cockpit. I put it up there because it was light and I wasn't worried about it breaking.
With my busy bee hat on.
Next time to dress up the party girl. Today I am a Fairy.
Now we are partying! Bubbles everywhere!!!!
From left to right.
Spare toolbox, computer case, food boxes, heavy weather spinnaker, spare bucket and bathroom, hat and nav station, flarebox and kitties...
Next, the first present: a children kitty book. That's too funny. I read it with the kitties.
Perfect for light air
The next present had me laugh outloud for at least 15 minutes. This was absolutely hilarious...
Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of metal on the boat I can stick the magnets too. So I snugged this near the nav station and that will put a smile on my face every time I'd go below.
Next, a companion for the kitties and for the onboard frog.
I decide to hang black belt froggy - and this is where it will spend the rest of the trip. This would also bring a smile on my face every time I'd go down below.
I figured the first gifts were from Nathan - and this one probably from Tori since we had S'mores at her wedding celebration? I am not sure.
This is from fellow Express 27 racers and Pac Cup DH winners: JP and Rachel. I love them both dearly. More party material! I decide to keep this for Tree Time post finish. As a celebration.
My mom sent me a note and scents from Southern France: rosemary, thyme, lavender, fennel...all that grows by the side of the road. A wave of nostalgia overwhelms me and I feel moved to tears. The music doesn't help! I notice that during the first week of this race, I was wearing my emotions right under my skin, close to overflow point the entire time.
I cry for a good ten minutes. I am not sad, I am not happy. I just have strong images of my childhood. This race is kind of my 40th birthday present to myself so this half way party gift is just perfect.
I go outside and watch the ocean and calmness returns. The ocean is friendly this morning - very light air still although if the forecast holds, it should pick up today. It is quiet and so becomes my mood.
Then I glance at the cat butts and I am on the floor dying of laughter again. I have slept really well the last three days and I do not feel tired at all. These butts are hilarious. They remind me of all the funny cat videos I have watched.
(notice that I moved the gas cans for a few days so that I'd have room to work on the solar panels. They will return to the stern soon. They are still attached to the boat.
Jedi pose.
My breakfast that day. I had taken a bottle of wine for the halfway party but early morning doesn't seem to be the time for it. I don't know what the local time is (ship time is California time) but it certainly isn't late in the day. I decide to keep the bottle of wine and share it perhaps with Nathan at the finish, or at least with fellow racers.
I take out the satellite phone and sit comfortably in the cockpit. The AP is still driving. I call my mom and tell her about the party. I call Nathan and thank him. Overwhelmed again by nostalgia, I cry a little bit but it is a short passing moment.
I realize that these were tears of joy. I feel so lucky to be out there - in a magical place I love, on a boat I love, doing something I love. It is just very pleasant sailing and Elise is saluting the halfway point with majesty, cutting through light morning waves. The clouds look friendly and life is smiling at me again.
Today will be my first day of racing. I have one phone call to make - to work. My message is to set up a truce for the rest of the race.
Success.
That one phone call has freed up my mind. There is no point in worrying now. Today I am racing. I download weather information which tells me that I should have plenty of wind over the next couple of days and that I should now just point to Hawaii, sit back and enjoy the ride.
I swallow the rest of a hearty breakfast, with bagel and jam. I make myself one cup of tea (I figured there would be less caffeine than in coffee). This would be the only one time I used the stove during the trip. I noticed that it was starting to unscrew itself from its holder. Glad I took a look!
I change into new day clothes and don my smelly t-shirt. I put aside my boots and the last set of smelly sock I have. I put on my sunglasses and down a full can of pellegrino and an orange. I prepare my lunch and put it up on deck. I look again at the GPS to make sure that I am clear on my heading. I know from Skip of a Southern current at this point, a little over a knot. I estimate my drift over the next couple of days but it is just an adjustment of less than a degree at this point since I am still super far away.
My face is pure determination.
I read carefully the position reports on email. I send no email. I am not in conversation mode. I am now in full racing mode. I plot the positions on a chart, particularly of the boats in my divisions. The boats are so different across divisions and handicap so hard to make fair that I now mostly care about a comeback in my own division and ideally picking up a couple of boats. Elise is not doing well if you apply the rating. I am last, despite sailing in the middle of the pack. However, there is 1,000 miles to go. Archimedes has nearly 160 miles on me. I resolve that it will not take one more mils and that it is realistic for me to shave off 40 to 60 miles by the finish. I will meet that goal. It is not realistic to get first place though. Libra is about half way that distance ahead of me. Libra owes me time. My goal now is simple. I absolutely must finish 2nd in division. There is no other possible reality for me in my mind and every single decision I make will be to maximize the probability of hitting that goal.
I take down the twin sails and set up the spinnaker net. I bring on 'Libra' on deck. It is called Libra because it was Libra's old kite. Libra is also an Express 27 but now I am racing again Libra, the Mini. This is a light air spinnaker as the wind is still light. I don't know what the wind speed is but it certainly isn't France weather. France is Elise's heavy air spinnaker. It has a narrower shoulder and is made of thicker material so it doesn't break as easily. The other spinnakers are light but in heavy air, they could rip.
My mind now is starting to think tactics, strategy and how I am going to make up the distance to meet my goal. There is no space for anything else, except that I laugh every time I go down below because I see cat butts. It is but a moment of sheer joy.
I have found myself again and I know Elise is impatient to show the world what she can do. Now I will be worthy of her. It is time.
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