Brain ache

It’s taken me a couple of days to blog about my last week of training.  Mainly because I just can’t get my brain to start working again. It’s having a rest after the punishing work out it was given last week.

Apparently the work we did was equivalent to doing a full GCSE in the space of a week. And it supposedly required you to have done your Day Skipper ticket previously so that you had a working knowledge of the concepts covered, otherwise - as the book said - ‘you will have a problem trying to assimilate all the information required of this challenging course’.

They weren’t kidding.

For six solid days, we started at 9am, ended at 4.30ish and continued to do homework until 7pm. Then we were supposed to go home and study further, but by then my brain was too knackered, so I’d get up early instead to do my studying first thing in the morning before starting the next day’s slog.

We covered:

• International Collision Regulations: these are kinda important to know. They help you avoid crashing into big ships. So we had to learn off by heart all the different lights boat should show, signals they should sound in fog, shapes they should display, rules about who has right of way in any given situation and international buoyage systems. And you’ll pleased to know that the buoys in the UK aren’t the same as the buoys in say American waters (just to make things easy). But as this bit was straight studying - and I am prone to be a girly swot - I managed to get 100% for that exam. Hooray!

So by day two we’d gotten that exam out of the way, so that we could move onto:

• Tides: You see I haven’t spent much time contemplating tides. Sure I know that the sea goes in and out but beyond that I didn’t know much more than what was covered in my rudimentary primary school geography lessons. So we had a refresher on the role the moon and sun play in moving the world’s oceans about. That bit was interesting. Then we had to try and work out tidal heights, set (bearing) and drift (strength). This involves using tidal charts and computation tables and tidal ladders and crocodiles teeth diagrams (don’t ask). I can honestly say that by the end of  it my brain ached, and it had nothing to do with the cheap wine the night before. I came close to tears several times at the sheer frustration of not being able to see the wood for the trees.

But just when we thought that we’d got it, bam! In came the next challenge.

• Chartwork: You get a big map with bazillions of tiny symbols on it, a plotter (think protactor type thing from school days), a set of dividers, pencil and rubber. You had to work out where a boat was, given a set of coordinates or try to take a fix using landmarks. Then you had to estimate where the boat might be, taking into account the tide and wind. Or you had to work out what course to steer taking all the factors into account and not forgetting to convert from True to Magnetic to Compass courses (more little formulas to remember). By the end of it, I was ready to stab myself through the heart with the dividers.

Then we got to put it together - the tides and the charts to do:

• Pilotage and passage planning: this is where you say in a WW2 British army general type voice: ‘We are here.  We want to be thar.” And you need to figure out the best route to get there, taking the myriad of different complicating factors into account.

Having realised that we are highly unlikely to end up anywhere close to Brazil if navigation is left up to me, we moved onto:

• Meteorology: weather is a pretty big subject and I’m fairly certain that those chirpy people on the telly who’re constantly pointing out more expected rain in the UK, have had to study for several years to be able to do it. We got one day. ONE. To cover the lot. So we learnt how weather patterns are created, how land and sea breezes are created, different types of fog and how they’re created and the creation and passage of depressions (I had a depression of my own at this point). We had to learn to read weather charts (which I can now do and am proud to say that I can spot an occluded front from a thousand paces.) I actually really enjoyed meteorology and trying to figure out which way the wind was likely to be blowing when a low and high pressure system were nudging each other. It all ended with us acting out cloud formations (I believe there’s a Youtube video floating around somewhere…)

After writing another exam on weather, we also covered a bunch of assorted topics like marine pollution, stability and safety at sea. All of this involved us staring blankly as our brains were officially full.

In total we had to write three exams and submit three assignments. The final exam was the doozy - the chartwork one. By some sheer miracle I passed (with a Good Pass). As a result, I have now earned my yachtmaster theory certificate. I can add it to my competent crew and sea survival certificates. All of this is setting me up for a future career at sea, should I wish to pursue one. At this point, I’m not convinced…

There were some good things about the week. Firstly it was fabulous to use my brain in a completely different way, although I might have overdone it. Secondly learning to read weather maps is like learning a new language. I feel as though I can now understand what the weather people are saying instead of just looking at the pretty pictures of clouds stuck on the map. Thirdly, I now feel super prepared to go to sea. And lastly, being down in Gosport there was a real buzz.

There were people finishing part B training weeks, people starting part Cs, people doing first aid and sea survival courses and others doing media training. It was great to keep bumping into people I’ve already met and meeting new team members. It’s all coming together. And with less than a month to go, there’s a definite sense of excitement building.

This Sunday I’ll be heading back to Gosport to do a first run of shopping for our food supplies. Then I will attempt to go back the next week during prep week to help organise the food but I will have my kids with me. My plan is to get them to take the labels off the tins of food (a job that has to be done) but I do wonder whether their involvement will mean a lucky dip approach to what we eat on any given day.

Then I potentially have media training on 29 Aug and finally, the boats leave Gosport for Hull on 31 Aug. The boys and I will be heading down for the big farewell (husband will be abroad). Then I have a few days to get the boys used to the idea of going back to school, get them off to school, pack everything I need, hold a 4th birthday party for son 2 and then I’m off! (gulp - how did come round so fast?!)

One excellent thing that happened last week was the nanny had her first week with the boys and it was a resounding success. They loved her. My husband loved her (so much that he wants her fulltime - apparently she ironed his boxer shorts and now he’s in love). And she managed brilliantly. The house is now full of artwork (not only does she iron, she also does arts & crafts - two things I don’t).

So I can leave knowing that they are all well taken care of. Although I fear that I might be a bit of a let down when I return and we revert to the house of unironed, non crafty things.

Must go get breakfast sorted now. But will post again before I go.

Tags: meteorology, navigation, tides, Training

5 comments August 19th, 2009

Navigating my way through to the start line

In one month and three days time I will be setting sail from Hull as the start of this crazy challenge begins. Where the hell has this year gone? It seems like just the other day I was driving through a blizzard to get to the interview, and now here we are, in the final countdown.

I spent the weekend in Cowes, enjoying the tail end of Cowes Week and the start of the Fastnet race. We watched lots of boats out sailing and even more seriously yachty types strut their nautical stripes down the parade. Not to mention the fireworks and the Red Arrows who put on a spectacular display.

And I got really excited - we’re going to have the Red Arrows at our race start too. Seeing all the spectator boats heading out with the yachts as they set sail for the Fastnet race just gave me butterflies in my tummy, knowing that very soon we’ll be sailing out with just as many spectator boats following us, cheering us on and sending us on our way.

But before then, I have a little more work to do. Tomorrow I face the last of my big training weeks. Unfortunately, this one doesn’t involve being on a boat. It’s one solid week of sitting in a classroom learning about navigation and meteorology. In preparation for this ‘intensive and challenging’ week (as it’s been described) I’m supposed to have learnt all the International Collision Regulations. I haven’t. I’ve tried. I keep falling asleep.

In case you aren’t a mariner and aren’t familiar with these, its just under 40 rules (and their related appendices) that are roughly equivalent to the Highway Code (for boats).  It is death by legalese.

It tells you how to not play chicken with a container ship when you’re in a small sailboat. And who has the right of way (not that you’re going to care once you’ve been mown down by a cruise liner). And it has a thoroughly scintillating section on what lights you need to display at sea, including diagrams of black background with tiny dots of colour. You need to guess what the vessel is by the lights on display.

So you can imagine how the time is going to fly…We also have to work out tides and compass bearings.  You know, like those delightful sums you got in school: train A travels at 10mph from the west and train B travel 23mph from the north. At approximately what time will they arrive in Devon? (much like the questions from Dame Slap’s school in the Faraway Tree books).

I just know they’re going to ask me to figure out how to get the boat from point A to point B taking tide and winds and international shipping lanes into account. And I know I’m going to be pants-tastic. Because I don’t do maths. My brain doesn’t work that way.  I am going to be the obligatory dunce in the class.

I know that I have questioned my ability to do many of the things on this race, which I have since realised I am quite capable of doing, as long as I give it a shot. I’m hoping that this will hold true for this week, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this time I’ll have met my ability match. I am almost certainly going to come away with a headache and an F on my exam. But let’s be positive. You never know, I might pass. And I might just manage to help us avoid hitting any ships while at sea. Which would be handy.

And after this week of learning, we still need to sort out the food issue. Thanks to everyone who contributed ideas for our meal planning. I think we’re getting there, although we’re still over budget. I fear an even greater number of beans might be called for to balance the books.  The doldrums will be of no consequence to us given the amount of wind we as a crew will be able to generate ourselves.

Then there’s still some media training to be done as I’ve offered my services as a boat media person. I should be helping out on the boat during prep week but not sure how with kids in tow. Then the mad rush to hold a birthday party for my four year old, organise the house/business, buy all the last minute things I need before heading off to Hull for all the festivities there. 

So much like the rest of the year, this last month is no quieter. I feel I might like a rest when I get home from Brazil.

I’ll report back with a swollen brain in a week’s time.

Tags: cowes, Fastnet, meteorology, navigation, Training

2 comments August 10th, 2009

Turtle blood with your fish eyes anyone?

A huge thank you to the utterly marvellous companies who donated the lovely things for my auction. And just as huge a thank you to everyone who placed a bid.  Between you all, I managed to raise enough money to pay for my return flight home from Brazil and my sea survival course, which incidentally I did on Saturday (more on this in a mo). So give yourselves a slap on the back because without your help, I would have had to spend the rest of my life in Rio (bummer) and wouldn’t have been able to learn all the fantastic things I’m about to share with you.

So Sea Survival, not exactly a course I was relishing.  It wasn’t just the prospect of having to swim fully clothed that put me off, it was knowing that I was going to learn about all the nasty ways I could potentially die by setting sail across the ocean that was the downer.

However, it started off well as the instructors (who incidentally train Royal Marines so sort of know what they’re talking about) gave us the stats about how unlikely it was that we’ll ever need to put into practice the stuff we were about to learn. So that was good. I could enjoy my cup of coffee after that.

The morning then passed by in a flurry of tales about the numerous different ways you can die at sea. There’s not just drowing, there’s secondary drowning and dry drowning. There’s hypothermia, heat stroke, sunburn, frostbite, gangrenous immersion foot, severe injuries while trying to abandon ship, heart failure due to cold shock or hydrostatic shock (? forgive me medics), dehydration and starvation.  On the plus side, you do get wind swept hair and a good bit of colour in your cheeks.

Anyway, on that cheery note, we set off for the pool, fully clothed. It’s safe to say I was bricking myself. They’d warned us that they were going to beast us so that we were truly knackered before attempting to climb into the life rafts as that’s how we would be in reality. 

I obviously have a face that encourages instructors to pick on me, as I was used as the guinea pig for every demonstration there was. But after the initial jump into the pool, my fear gave way to fun. It was seriously fun. Now I know that in real life it won’t be fun. There’s nothing funny at all about abandoning ship at sea, trying to get to your life raft if you didn’t get on it before leaving the boat, surviving the hideous sea sickness, dehydration, starvation and utter depression that comes from living in a life raft, waiting to be found.  But in the pool, it was fun. And not nearly as hard as they made out.

What I found amazing about the training - and indeed all the training I’ve done so far - is that if you just go for it and try, you actually can do so much more than you think you’re capable of. I am extremely claustrophobic, so sitting in a small orange bouncy boat, all zipped up with no air coming in wasn’t pleasant.  But I was put in charge of organising everyone on the liferaft and did it, without batting an eyelid.

Then we had to tip an overturned liferaft onto our heads. Again, the thought of a large piece of plastic landing on my head and pushing me under water filled me with dread. But it was fine. They teach you how to create an air pocket and how to get out from underneath it.

I know that should - God forbid - I ever have to put any of this into practice for real, it will be utterly terrifying, but I’ve learnt that I am far more capable than I thought I was.  I genuinely feel prepared now to face whatever is thrown at us.

But the best bit of all was learning some of the useful life saving tips that inhabitors of life rafts could benefit from. For example, you can’t eat protein as it requires too much water for the body to process, and water isn’t something you have a lot of on a liferaft.

However, you do get a fishing line and hook and apparently, the fishing is remarkably good as the shadow created by the life raft attracts fish, which attracts bigger fish, which attract even bigger fish (which is why you need to sit on some of your layers of clothes to provide padding from some of the bigger fish nudging your bottom none to gently).

And although you can’t eat the meat of fish, you can eat their eyeballs because they’re just liquid. Yummy. More please. And you can eat their skin, just scrape the scales off first. But don’t drink fish blood. Too salty. Turtles on the other hand, have marvellous blood which you can drink at will. However, you need to be sharpish because it takes just 40 seconds before the blood congeals. So you have to slit, pour, drink and swallow at speed. And of course, finding the turtle might be tricky in the first place. And all of this is a fairly mute point when you’re allergic to seafood as I am.

You also get two sponges on the life raft, one for mopping up sea water (and sick) and one for mopping up the condensation from our breathing on the roof, which you then squeeze into a water container and drink. Yummy. Drinking other people’s breath. The rafts also very cunningly have a V sewn into the roof to catch rain water, which flows down a tube and is attached to what looks like a catheter bag. The salt water settles at the bottom, leaving the fresh stuff on top - which you then pour into your deflated life jacket, which now doubles up as a water container. Clever no?

The most important thing learnt (besides the four steps you MUST do the minute you get into a life raft - and no, it’s not shit yourself although you do need to pee within an hour) is that someone isn’t dead until they’re warm and dead. If they’re cold and dead, they’re probably just deeply hypothermic. Useful to know I think.

So that’s how I spent my Saturday. A little different from the norm, but very interesting none the less. Now to go look up a recipe for turtle blood and fish eye soup….

PS - for my mother’s benefit who I know will read this, I’d like to reiterate that all of this is likely to NEVER be needed, but better safe than sorry.

PPS - I forgot to say, the highlight of the day was that the film crew was there. They’re making a multi part documentary of the entire race no doubt to be broadcast on a channel near you soon, and the camera man decided that I was his spokesperson of choice. So after every exercise, as I emerged from the pool looking like a drowned rat/yeti, I had a camera shoved in my face and asked how I’d enjoyed the exercise. I feel my fame might be shortlived…

Tags: sea survival, Training

9 comments July 27th, 2009

Feeling fab

I’ve just returned home from my second week of training to find a very quiet, empty house as my husband and the boys are still driving back from my mother in law’s house. So I thought I’d use the few moments of peace to fill you in on how it went.

In short, it was AWESOME!

Last Sunday I set off feeling very tired and slightly nervous but a bit more prepared for what lay ahead of me. I felt far more confident about what to pack, meaning I could get away with a bag half the size of the one I used last time. Which in turn meant I could actually carry it to the boat without pulling a muscle.

Arriving on the pontoon I discovered that I would have the same skipper that I had on part A, which was great as it meant one friendly face. Then, even better, the marvellous Chris - aka Captain Turbo - another member of my group from part A was also on my part B. I immediately felt at home. Unlike last time, I was one of only two girls with many strapping young men to do all the heavy lifting. Another bonus!

Much like last time, we started off with team building exercises which at one point involved my face being inches away from a stranger’s crotch as we all attempted to stand on a very small dot on a sail, so the ice was well and truely broken by bedtime.

This time we stayed on (and sailed) the actual boats we’ll be going on for the race. They’re a lot bigger than the others with slightly more room below deck - like toilets you can actually sit on without your feet sticking out the door (not to mention toilet door zips that actually zip up). I was quick to nab a bed that was in the middle of the boat to ensure maximum stability but given we didn’t do any night sails, it didn’t make too much difference.

Day 1 involved a good long sail out through the Solent to the Needles to refresh everything we’d learnt on Part A training. Standing on deck in torrential icy cold rain that stung my eyes as I attempted to look up at the sail certainly brought back memories and once again I questioned my sanity in doing this.

But once the rain cleared and we got a fab view of the Needles, it all started looking up.

Day 2, the sun was shining and we got to learn all about spinnakers. After a morning of cleaning (a non-stop job on a boat) and theory, we headed out to try out our spinnaker hoisting skills, which were somewhat lacking. Luckily so was the wind so we were able to play around with the huge sails without too much drama. Well except for one of the spinnaker sheets getting stuck in the prop and the skipper having to dive into icy water to sort it out. Here he is emerging a bit chilly from the water:

We also got to pack the spinnaker’s back into their bags. Imagine a sail the size of a tennis court. Now imagine trying to get that amount of sail cloth folded the correct way in a confined space while going over waves. It involves a lot of patience. Here I am with crew member Jen folding one of the spinnaker’s up. It’s hot work, hence the red face:

Day 3 we had a fabulous sail down past Selsy bill. Sitting lined up on the side of the boat with the sun on our faces and a breeze blowing us along while we gazed out to sea was bliss. I also got to hone my skills in the snakepit, the part of the boat where all the halyards and lines come in to and can get themselves into a massive knot unless you’re constantly flaking them out on the deck behind you. It’s a job that requires you to know which rope to pull when while you communicate between the foredeck crew and the helm. It’s normally girls who get to do this job well because it involves communications skills and the ability to multi-task. I loved it!

I was also on Motherwatch duty which involves cooking food for the entire crew and cleaning up. Unlike last time, this time I was able to cook in relatively calm seas although if you look at the pic below, take note of the angle of the cooker in the galley - it swivels to the angle of the boat so that the pots don’t slide off it when the boat is heeled over. Still not exactly an easy cooking experience but at least this time it didn’t end with me vomiting over the back of the boat.

Day 4 was another light wind day but we got to race the other training boat in some seriously competitive races. I really enjoyed the racing and the fact that we were finally starting to work together as a cohesive team without millions of mistakes (not entirely mistake free but we certainly looked a bit more professional). It felt far more like what the real race will be like and for the first time I really started to understand why doing this is going to be such a blast.

That night we moored up in East Cowes and had a fab night out eating and drinking and generally behaving the way sailors normally behave when they’re remotely close to a bar.

Day 5 We set off first thing in virtually non-existant winds and tried to understand tide charts and weather systems before setting off on another race, this time a long one some way out to the East of the Isle of Wight. We won by ten minutes - yay! By now the wind had picked up a lot, with gusts up to 35 / 40 knots. And I got to helm. Gulp.

I know how to steer a boat. But steering a 68 foot, 35 tonne boat in big seas and strong wind isn’t easy. By the time we got to the first mark my shoulders were rock hard, my arms and legs aching. And then we got to do the downwind leg. For anyone not familiar with sailing, this means you have the wind behind you and the potential to gybe at a moment’s notice (which is when the boom swings across the boat taking out everyone in its path - not a good thing really).

So we’re heading downwind fast, surfing big waves, the wind threatening to gybe the mainsail. Coming directly towards us was a rather large container ship. Coming at us in the opposite direction was a fast ferry to the channel islands, with the boat we were racing coming at us on the opposite tack (and they had right of way). Let’s just say that I needed a stiff drink by the time we got ourselves out of that sticky spot. That night I slept very, very well.

Day 6 Was our last day of sailing, but the winds were very light once again. After a final bit of racing, we got back, derigged and had to write an exam.

Then it was off for our big crew supper that involved plenty of chinese food, lots of wine and lots of talking seventeen types of shite.

And talking shite was a major feature of the week. Not a single meal went by without a discussion about poo. Get 8 men together and talk tends to gravitate to poo and willies. Remarkable. I thought it was simply a phase my 3 and 5 year old boys were going through but apparently it’s a lifelong affliction.

But I can honestly say that I haven’t laughed as much in years. It was a great taste of the comaraderie that develops on board. You meet brilliant characters like:

and

These two are known as foredeck monkeys, mastmen or grinding gorrillas i.e. they’re the hired muscle. But every job was done with a chuckle and a joke about poo, willies or testicles.

Living on a boat with a bunch of strangers has all the makings of a potential disaster - but you live in this amazing bubble where the rest of the world ceases to exist. You become an entirely different person to the person you are in your day to day life. I’m known as Mel on board. I’ve never been Mel. But somehow I am Mel when I’m on the boat.

You revert to the person you were before children, husbands, mortgages, school runs, work or being a grown up. It’s like being 20 all over again. It’s completely liberating. You focus on the task at hand - sailing a boat - and you forget about everything else.

So while I am back, tired and covered in bruises and have aching muscles, I look and feel healthy, happy and relaxed.

I dread the huge amount I have to do in the next two months but the old adage of a change being as good as a holiday really does hold true.

Now I just wish I was doing more legs of the race - but there’s always 11/12 race for that….

Tags: cowes, isle of wight, sailing, spinnakers, Training

5 comments May 3rd, 2009

Tick tock, tick tock

‘My bags are packed and I’m ready to go….’ Actually they’re not and I’m nowhere near ready to head off on training part B on Sunday afternoon. Between now and then I have to:

- pack in a huge amount of client work (like a month’s worth)
- prep freelancers to man the decks while I’m away
- drive around to village halls, nurseries and doctors rooms handing out posters for my nearly new fund raising sale (which takes place the weekend after I get back)
- buy a range of things needed for my nearly new sale and distribute lables and posters to other sellers
- book an ad in the local paper for the sale
- sort, iron and label all the stuff I have to sell for the sale
- buy enough groceries to keep the family in food for a week while I’m gone
- buy all the bits and pieces I need for another week at sea (including many, many seasick tablets)
- finish typing up the telephone directory sized list of instructions for my sister in law who is looking after the boys while I’m away
- practice tying bowlines
- spend time with the boys including squeezing in a football lesson over the weekend

Why is it that whenever I go on these training courses I arrive absolutely shattered, rather than well rested and ready to face a week of gruelling physical activity?

What’s more, during training, you don’t get to eat a massive amount of fresh fruit or vegetables, which when combined with having to just about poo in public, doesn’t help one’s er… regularity. So this week I should really have been doubling my five-a-day quota. But I’ve had no time to buy food, so it’s been a case of ready-steady-cook in our house using random tinned and frozen ingredients to see what culinary delights I could create. I’ve been giving the boys any fresh veg we’ve had left but I feel that scurvy might already be setting in for me.

Must go make some breakfast and start ticking off some on these things before I run out of time entirely. I’ll report back again after training week is over. Here’s hoping my fingers (still not fully recovered from last time) survive, that I get my sea legs and don’t feel quite as sick and that I’ve mastered a bowline under pressure by the time I return. Wish me luck!

Tags: nearly new sale, sailing, scurvy, sea sick, Training

4 comments April 23rd, 2009