Midnight watch
November 2nd, 2009
It’s approaching midnight. I should be in bed. Asleep. But I’m not. I’ve spent much of the evening trying desperately to catch up on a mountain of work, not helped by having my entire IT system die today with a literal fizzle and smell of smoke.
And after I’d had enough of trying to summon my working brain back from the brink of beyond, it was time to catch up on some X-factor viewing (it’s my one vice. Ok, that and wine). Having finally switched off the TV, I should get into bed and snuggle my husband who’s been asleep for a long time (another person I need to give some time to). But instead I log onto www.clipperroundtheworld.com to see what’s happening with the boats.
Qingdao is slowly climbing up the fleet and is currently in 6th place. I look at the wind predictions and plot their course and imagine exactly what’s happening on board.
I picture the watch about to go on duty, being woken with a gentle shake of the shoulder. I imagine them fumbling into their oilies, grabbing head torches, having a pee in a loo which they have to pump 30 times before stumbling sleepily up the companionway onto the deck, mumbling a ‘Morning’ to the on watch.
They’ll then wake themselves fast with the wind in their face, while they try to take in the facts being given to them. Our COG is 95. We’ve got to keep at least 10 knots of boat speed. We’ve got Agatha up but we’re ready to go to Judith should the wind pick up. Watch the preventer. It’s chafing. The spinnaker halyard is on the starboard winch and it needs exercising within the next 30 minutes.
Having handed over, the old watch will bumble off below, eager to crawl into their beds, knowing that only a few hours sleep and a bowlful of porridge with honey separates them from their next watch. Meanwhile the new watch quietly go about doing a deck check, settling into the rythym of helming and making a much needed cup of salty tea.
This is life on board a racing boat. I miss it with every fibre of my being. Life at home is situation normal. And while flushing loos and hot showers and an infinite supply of clean knickers is a lovely thing, waking up to see the milky way has a wonder of its own. I am deeply jealous of those on board.
Is it wrong of me to want to go back?
Entry Filed under: Emotions
10 Comments Add your own
1. Sarah Stratton | November 3rd, 2009 at 8:14 am
Not at all my little sausage! I’m feeling exactly the same and have tried not to scream it from the top of the garden for the past week. It has been sooooo hard to get back into normal life - did you read the email from Clipper today - I think it was Shana Bagley that wrote it and ohmigod did it sum things up. Everyone at home has been so gorgeous, wishing me well, telling me I look fab etc etc but do they GET IT? Sadly, they can’t - they weren’t there, and try as I might, I cannot stop missing the guys on board, skips and the boat herself. How will we resolve this without running away again? I feel you need a trip to London and we both need several glasses of crespolini with a nice salad to make it look good. Whaddya say??
2. admin | November 3rd, 2009 at 8:52 am
Sarah, I hear you loud and clear. My first few days, the joy of home luxuries and cuddles from my kids made me forget about the boat, but now I feel it more and more. And that email today from David C moved me to tears. Am thinking about posting it on here it was so awesome. And yes, definitely to coming to London, just need to figure out when.
3. nappyvalleygirl | November 4th, 2009 at 8:37 am
It’s not wrong at all, the adjustment must be really hard. But at least you have the memory to carry with you when you are doing the most mundane things……by the way I’ve linked to you over at mine, reading your tales and Not Enough Mud’s backpacking adventures inspired me to post about my gap months six years ago…x
4. A Modern Mother | November 6th, 2009 at 6:46 am
You’re back !!! Welcome home. I can’t believe you have come and gone. Was it life changing? OMG. I’m coming back soon to read these properly and digest it. We missed you!
5. admin | November 9th, 2009 at 5:06 am
Thanks for the mention Nappy Valley girl. I am so behind in my blog reading I could cry. But will be over to visit soon.
Modern Mother - Not sure if it was life changing, certainly a fab break from real life and has shown me that there is an escape from the laundry pile every now and then
Would love to catch up with you soon to get back up to speed on the world of mummy bloggers.
6. angels&urchinsblog | November 9th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
Heck. Hard to know what to say. I wonder how long you’d need to be on the boat to really feel you’d ‘done’ it and were ready to come home? One this is for sure, your family wouldn’t have wanted you away a second longer than you were. And you can always run away again, now that they know they can cope without you. Be happy and proud that you lived the dream - how about writing a book about it, to remember all the sights, sounds and smells, and to inspire others to chase that sunset and sunrise?
7. Iota | November 9th, 2009 at 8:47 pm
It must be a huge adjustment. I think it’s probably like a bereavement. You shared such an intense time with those people, and now they’re gone, and the experience is gone.
Does writing about it help (as A&U says)?
8. admin | November 11th, 2009 at 11:30 am
Iota and Angels&Urchins, so about the delayed reply. For some reason I’ve been avoiding my blog. I have tried writing about it but it doesn’t seem to come out right, which is why I haven’t posted much since coming back. I’m going to keep trying.
9. Helen | November 13th, 2009 at 8:57 am
Oh, I would feel just the same - actually I came here after reading up the blogs of friends who are doing exactly what I hope to be doing a few years from now - SAILING!!!!! full time I DO sympathize with you entirely
10. angels&urchinsblog | November 16th, 2009 at 4:54 pm
The blog is back to ‘real life’ - not surprised you’re avoiding it a little. I would too. And often do (mine, not yours!)
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