For many cruising couples the liveaboard life is a shared ambition worked and saved towards for years, before setting off together, alone. For others, the decision to sail two-up is an evolution, borne of an increase in skill and knowledge, and the desire to reclaim peace and privacy on board after sailing with crew. But expectation and reality do not always align, so how do you ensure the experience matches the vision you both held?

We canvassed dozens of cruisers on how to run a happy ship for two. Many knew couples whose relationship did not survive living aboard. All had strategies to avoid the same pitfalls, and generously shared their advice.

Who knows more?

Few of our cruising couples had similar levels of sailing experience as each other initially. “A very definite no,” says Miranda Baker on that question. “Elliot had his RYA Yachtmaster Offshore and a ton of experience crewing and teaching sailing. I’d spent six weeks ‘crewing’ a boat through the Whitsundays in my early 20s – but don’t remember the sails ever being raised. I think this disparity worked in our favour because it was clear who would be in charge.” The couple have so far sailed 15,000 miles from New Zealand to Indonesia.

More important was how each pairing developed those skills. “One bit of advice we always give is to make sure you level-up your sailing experience as much as possible,” says Charlotte DC. She and partner JP Baudains are circumnavigating, and also run a brokerage company, often advising new cruisers on bluewater yachts.

“Stressful situations at sea can be even worse when only one person feels like they can be ‘dealing with the boat’ at that time,” she adds. “It makes the other person feel guilty and unimportant.”

Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo have cruised 15,000 miles on their 1985 steel Mason 48 Fortaleza. Photo: Miranda Baker & Elliot Russo

Get better together

Fundamentally, it’s a safety consideration. “I’d never been on a sailing boat before we met. I quickly decided, however, that if Neil went overboard i wanted to [be able to] sail the boat back to land so i did lots of sailing courses and got my Yachtmaster Offshore before we left,” recalls Helen Smith, who spent four years circumnavigating with her husband, Neil, on their s&s 40, then later bought a Moody 54 which they sailed across the Atlantic.

Kate Ashe-Leonard took a rigorous approach to up-skilling before she and partner Jim Hooper set off on their Catana 47. “Jim had sailed his whole life whereas i had never sailed before.

“In the first few months we divided the sailing quite evenly but i was always under Jim’s watchful eye. After a day of sailing, at anchor we’d discuss the manoeuvres we’d done (for example, raising and dropping the mainsail).

i would type them up into a step-by-step written procedure to make sure i really understood what was going on and why each step is important.”

Discuss how you will divide roles – from sailing to maintenance, navigation, paperwork and domestic tasks. Photo: Tor Johnson

But with so many demands on your time when preparing for a voyage, it can be a struggle to get the hours in. “Will grew up cruising offshore with his family. i had little to no sailing experience,” recalls Sarah Curry. “In the years that we were saving to buy our first bluewater boat we sailed locally out of Vancouver for a cumulative three weeks. i focused more on taking navigation courses and reading as much as i could.

“Will’s seamanship and skill is amazing, but i initially struggled as the far less experienced sailor. It’s hard to take direction all the time! i often felt jealous of couples who learned together or had sailing skills at similar levels. In hindsight, i should have used our preparation years to hone my on-the-water skills,” she acknowledges.

It worked out though – the couple have lived aboard for over 10 years, raising twins on board while also running wind vane company Hydrovane.

Photo: Tor Johnson

Who does what?

There are broadly two schools of thought on how to split roles on board: divide equally, or play to your strengths. The critical thing is to ensure that one member of the team doesn’t end up doing all the sailing and technical jobs, with the other de-skilled.

Janneke Kuysters and Wietze van der Laan were closely matched in their experience levels. “Many couples need to have a clear ‘captain’ role on board. We don’t believe in that. The person closest to the wheel (or on watch) has the best oversight and takes the decisions,” says Janneke.

“Wietze is the better sailor, so he sails the boat while i do everything around it: food, radio, weather, navigation, paperwork, berth reservations, etc. We strongly believe in doing what you’re good at, instead of both wanting to be able to do all the jobs. Despite being together all day, you need to have something to talk about. And having achieved something you’re proud of is good for the ‘catch up’ at the end of the day.”

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“i had a vision that certain areas would be really equal in our roles – everything down to the marine electrics or engine maintenance and so on,” recalls Larissa Clark, who is cruising the Pacific with Duncan Copeland and their two sons.

“i tried to prepare towards that before we left, going on courses where i didn’t have the expertise. Two days into a marine electrics course, where it felt like every chapter ended with the word ‘Fire!’, i decided actually there were areas it was just better to divide and conquer. Electrics is definitely not my strength, but it is very much Duncan’s. But i always like to ask a lot of questions so i can understand the decisions that we’re making, and vice versa.”

Helen Harbour and her husband, David, sail their 46ft Amel ketch around six months of each year. Helen described a typical division of roles among our cruising couples: “i do the planning, navigation and piloting. David does the maintenance. i helm to anchor and pick up buoys. David helms to bring us into marinas. We both do all sailing roles, either together, or on our own. We both stand our own, equal length watches, carrying out all boat handling on our own, night or day.”

Kate Ashe-Leonard and Jim Hooper have sailed halfway around the world on their Catana 47 Polaris. Photo: Jim Hooper

“More demanding manoeuvres, we make sure that we do together,” observes Miguel and Claire Queiroz, who crossed to the Caribbean in their Fountaine Pajot 47.

“There were no clear cut roles for us. We had a sign above the companionway saying ‘The Captain’s Word is Law’. The only issue was that we both captained on and off, sometimes making it confusing which of us was the law and which of us was the law-breaker!” recall Sarah and Rasmus Haurum Christensen, who have lived aboard their Beneteau 423 for a year.

“We were convinced that a flat structure was the best way, and that turned out to be wholly right. But for longer passages we establish a dedicated captain. This means that if all hell broke loose, this person had the main responsibility and last word.”

Most double-handed couples sail a large proportion of miles solo, but work together on more challenging manoeuvres. Photo: Nikkey Dawn/SV Freeranger

Domestic duties

Many couples reported that domestic duties were more equally shared on board than on land. Seasickness is the often unspoken reason why one half of a couple takes on more domestic tasks.

“Wietze gets seasick. Making him cook or get a weather forecast would make him unnecessarily miserable. So he sails the boat outside, i do everything inside,” explains Janneke.

“While we tried to split boat jobs and domestic jobs as evenly as possible, the simple fact is that i don’t get seasick and can knock out a meal in most sea states, whereas i wouldn’t have a clue where to start fixing the watermaker or the generator. It made sense to play to our strengths and skill sets,” says Philippa Steventon, who cruised Europe and the Caribbean with her family on their Bowman 40.

“When we moved onto the boat i volunteered Elliot to deal with the composting loo, a task that involves a trowel. His tax for us living his dream!” adds Miranda.

Downwind in big seas – fun sailing, but potentially stressful two-up. Photo: Tor Johnson

What do you both want?

Having equal ‘buy in’ is important to mutual happiness. “What is most important is discussing your expectations: what does each person want to get out of cruising? That’s what we see most of the fights are about on other boats. In many cases, one is fulfilling a lifetime dream and the other is going along to keep the relationship going,” says Janneke. “That person is prone to homesickness, boredom and unhappiness.”

“We met so many couples where one – usually the wife – was there because it was her husband’s dream,” seconds Philippa Steventon.

Drilling down into expectations is important. “We are very lucky that we both equally sought this lifestyle, and have similar feelings about the sorts of places we like to go, and the balance between visiting well-known versus more challenging destinations,” explains James and Jayne Pearce, who live on their Garcia Exploration 45 Scout. “If one partner dreams about long bluewater passages, and the other dreams about socialising by a marina pool, then there are going to be some painful misunderstandings!”

Larissa Clark and Duncan Copeland are cruising the Pacific while running the Free Range Ocean citizen science directory. Photo: Free Range Ocean

But you don’t have to bring equal experience to have equal involvement. “When you start out there will be one of you that is more confident in sailing or handling the conditions than the other. We learned early on that you really need to drive to the level of comfort where you are both happy. That may be a bit frustrating for the more experienced partner, but as time and experience move forward, trust is built allowing confidence to grow,” say Carl and Joanna Greenwood, who have been cruising their Lagoon 42 Rockhopper since 2021.

“Passage planning and weather routing really is a joint process. We both make a decision together as to whether to go or stay. If one of us is uncomfortable about the conditions then we don’t go. This way there are no ‘i told you so’ moments,” they add.

“It’s inevitable you are going to have bad passages and anchorages that don’t work out. But it’s important that it is both of our decisions, never just one person’s, so there’s no blame when things don’t go to plan. When we commit to something we have got to be in it together,” agree Simon McKenna and Soph Snijders, who are sailing their Duncanson 34 Nakama around Australia (and documenting it on their ‘Slim & Soph’ youtube channel).

Sarah and Will Curry cruise with their twin boys, and remotely run the Hydrovane windvane company. Photo: Will & Sarah Curry

But big changes can put pressure on the cruising dream at any stage. “Sailing life is a huge undertaking. Working remotely adds a new element of time management. Parenting on board was a natural progression for us but the combination of all three ‘jobs’ landed us in the Red Zone,” recalls Sarah Curry. “We found ourselves in la Paz, Mexico, with toddler twin boys learning to walk on the boat, in the middle of Covid, with emails to answer, while trying to re-visit our favourite anchorages.

“Our challenge was admitting to each other that we weren’t having any fun. We had to slow down for a few years, which is not in our nature.”

Jessy and Chet Chauhan are cruising the world on their Nautitech 46 Open catamaran Navasana. Photo: Sailing Navasana

Problem solving

Every couple has their flashpoints, largely depending on their boat set-up. One recurring issue our couples reported was handing downwind sails double-handed.

“For us downwind sailing in following seas presents the biggest challenge,” say Eamonn Naughton and Brigid McMahon, who have cruised their Rustler 42 for over seven seasons. “We carry a parasailor for downwind sailing and use a poled-out headsail when winds are in excess of 20 knots. Lowering the parasailor and gybing the pole in heavy seas can be very challenging double-handed. So when the weather gets up we now tend to sail on a broad reach (less than $160^\circ$ twa), gybe when required, and take the hit on course and vmg.”

“Wing on wing is the sail plan we most enjoy and have perfected,” say the Currys. “Our first boat came with a huge spinnaker pole strapped on the side of the deck. It was incredibly cumbersome, and even dangerous, for us to manoeuvre as a couple. We immediately had it mounted on a track on the mast for ease of deployment.

“We practice, practice, practice pole deployment and gybing. A well-balanced boat is essential for self steering, so we take this seriously and always use a pole on our monohulls when reaching or sailing dead downwind.”

Irish couple Eamonn Naughton and Brigid McMahon sailing their Rustler 42 Mor Toad. Photo: Eamonn Naughton & Brigid McMahon

‘Marriage savers’

Some double-handed issues can be solved by changing your gear. “Recently in Raja Ampat, Indonesia, we found it challenging in very tight anchorages where you have to use multiple shore lines,” recall Jessy and Chet Chauhan, cruising their Nautitech 46 Catamaran. “Chet had secured one line but while he was getting the second one attached, a squall came through that pushed the boat towards the reef. Jessy couldn’t use the engines, because the first shore line was under the boat and close to the propellers. We now have floating lines to tie to shore, which should allow Jessy to use the engines at any time.”

But by far the most common point of contention was mooring up. “Bella was Scheel keeled and particularly painful to manoeuvre in close quarters. This meant parking was 100% our biggest source of stress. We really didn’t want to be one of those couples screaming at each other going into marinas so we learned to get really calm and quiet coming in to dock,” says Philippa Steventon. Early preparation, doubling up lines and fenders on both sides, and refusing assistance from well-meaning bystanders helped smooth the process.

Many couples recommended radio headsets, often referred to as ‘marriage savers’. “For moments of potential contention we use headsets. In marinas, sometimes anchoring if it looks tricky, or when Elliot goes up the mast. The headsets have definitely reduced the need for raised voices – now we can whisper our insults at each other,” says Miranda Baker.

Simon McKenna and Sophie Snijders are rounding Australia on their Duncanson 34 Nakama. Photo: Sailing Nakama

Sarah Haurum Christensen feels there are three options for stress-free berthing: “Figure out some good hand signs and hope you understand each other; yell across 43ft, a rumbling engine and 30 knots of breeze; or buy headsets and dock like pros but look like boomers!

“We established clear hand signs, and yelled, which did not always end well. The most important tip here is to establish a method for dealing with arguments after a manoeuvre, and to debrief if arguments arose.”

Is it worth it?

There’s no doubt that living on board will test a relationship like – almost – nothing else.

“We consider this the ultimate Ikea test!” says Sarah and Rasmus. “The Ikea test normally entails building flatpack furniture as a couple, and success means you can do anything together. Try doing plumbing in the bilge together at 0300 in 4m waves because you had a fresh water hose explode!”

Somira Sao and partner James Burwick took a more extreme approach before going sailing with their young children on an Open 40 – continuing as their family grew to six children on a 50ft trimaran. “We were unique in that we never had a land life together in the traditional sense. We did not come from a world where we had to downsize from a four-bedroom house,” Somira explains. “All of our time living together involved an expedition lifestyle – bike packing for 12 months, living in vans etc.

“Before you commit to going sailing, we highly recommend doing some off-grid expeditions together. It’s a good litmus test for what will happen when you’re in a small space on a boat together in the middle of the ocean.”

For many couples the shared time together is a huge draw to double-handed liveaboard cruising. Photo: Tor Johnson

Prepare for some teething problems, even if you are experienced cruisers. “On both our long voyages, we have learned that the first three months are the most challenging,” says Janneke Kuysters. “You have to get used to living together on the boat, to being underway all the time and letting go of everything you were used to.

“For many people, their job is part of their identity. So if the job is no longer there, they have to find their new identity as a cruiser. We always advise to give it time and allow yourself to get used to your new way of life before making big changes.”

But the rewards are huge. “We spent 18 months living aboard while completing the World ARC,” says John DiMatteo and his wife Angela. “In addition to sharing a life changing experience (for the better), the biggest benefit was greatly improving how we communicate with each other. It brought us much closer together at an age where many couples start to drift apart.”

“i am glad i didn’t know how scary it can be,” reflects Miranda Baker, whose partner Elliot faced a life-threatening medical emergency in a remote anchorage. “i’m not sure if i’d have put my hand up, and that would have been a shame. This life probably makes or breaks relationships, so i am proud of our resilience as a couple.”

She concludes: “The immersive experience of exploring our planet by sailboat is a wild ride but the reward is equal in measure. We experience a freedom to choose what’s next for ourselves that’s rare for most humans. We are humbled by enormous, star bursting skies and by important things breaking in remote places.

“We have each other’s backs. And, when Elliot and i are very old, we will have a thousand crazy stories to reminisce over and laugh about.”

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Fika rolls in the swell as Sophie clings to the mast. Twenty-four hours since we left Melbourne, we are sailing through Bass Strait, notorious for its gale force winds and nasty seas.

I hoist Sophie skyward towards the masthead and, with each roll, look up to check her progress. Her movement becomes increasingly precarious, like a human pendulum. I watch my daughter wrap her long limbs around every available hold to prevent her being flung into the mast. I dread to wonder what Sophie will find at the top. It’s only day two and I admit to feeling a little defeated: we have over 5,000 miles to go.

It has been a tough 24 hours. My inner critic is berating my decision to take us offshore to avoid a predicted wind hole between us and Australia’s Victorian coast. These light conditions are uncharacteristic of Bass Strait. The race tracker only reinforces my foolishness. The rest of the fleet is sailing swiftly north-east. Meanwhile we are ghosting along heading south-east towards Tasmania, next stop: Antarctica!

Fika is running under symmetric spinnaker. The wind continues to veer northwards and I’m not sure what the right tactic is. Regardless, it’s time to sock the spinnaker and lower it. My heart sinks when I realise the halyard is jammed and the spinnaker will not come down. But there’s no time for self-pity. This is the sail of a lifetime. A priceless journey with my incredible daughter. We are sailing in the Melbourne Osaka Cup; double-handed, non-stop from Australia to Japan.

Fika is a seakindly Najad 490 family cruising yacht and the backbone of Annette Hesselman’s sail training business. The yacht was mildly modified for easier short-handed sailing in readiness for the Melbourne Osaka Cup. Photo: Al Dillon/Melbourne Osaka Cup

Melbourne Osaka Cup

This race has been on my mind since I watched the start of the first Melbourne Osaka Cup in 1987 aboard my father’s timber motorboat. I was a sailing-obsessed teenager believing I one day would sail around the world just like my idols, Naomi James and Claire Francis.

At 5,500 miles the Melbourne Osaka Cup is the longest longitudinal yacht race in the world and the equivalent of eight Sydney to Hobart yacht races. Competitors sail from 38°S to 34°N, traversing many weather systems, and travelling backward through the seasons from autumn in Melbourne to summer at the equator and spring in Japan, via the Tasman, Coral, and Solomon Seas, and North Pacific. It is held approximately every five years.

In 2025, crew ages ranged from 27 to 76 years, with six female sailors. The 16 yachts included every conceivable style, from an S&S 34, Class 40s, J-Boats, one-off designs, – such as the Reichel-Pugh Alive with a pro crew – and cruising yachts including our Najad 490, Fika.

Having competed in the 2018 Melbourne Osaka Cup, I found the race truly life changing. It is a humbling experience feeling the enormity of the vast ocean. Coping with the incredibly challenging light winds and lack of progress at times teaches patience, perseverance and humility. Successfully completing the 2018 race gave me the confidence to start my own sailing adventure business, which is now an RYA Training Centre.

Mother and daughter Annette and Sophie worked well together. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

Co-skippers

After the 2018 race, my then-20-year-old daughter, Sophie, offered to be my first mate for the return voyage back to Australia. We set sail for what Sophie described initially, and naively, as a sunset cruise. It soon became rudely apparent that the delivery would be anything but with constant shipping, squalls, heat and discomfort aboard the spartan racing yacht I sailed at the time.

On the two-month passage home Sophie proved invaluable and I cherished every moment. Following our return, Sophie moved aboard her own yacht, Nakama, and began sailing around Australia while completing her degree and documenting her travels on YouTube (@SlimSophSailingNakama). So I didn’t hesitate to enter the 2025 race – nor to ask Sophie if she’d be my co-skipper.

I am incredibly fortunate to have the most beautiful yacht to sail on our adventure. Fika is the backbone of my sail training business, and we spend much of our time plying the oceans while sharing knowledge, skills and hopefully developing the confidence of all who sail aboard. Designed by Judel Vrolijk, it’s a Najad 490, built in Sweden in 2001. With no intention to swap Fika for a fancy racing yacht, Sophie and I set about preparing her for the marathon sail from Melbourne to Osaka.

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With her fine lines and outstanding design, the Najad 490 is a seakindly yacht. As dogged as her owner, when conditions deteriorate she just knuckles down and gets on with the job. Despite her weight (19 tonnes), Fika performs well and can easily make 200 miles a day on passage. With a versatile cutter rig she’s well set up for offshore sailing, though we have tried to simplify by replacing the furling boom with a conventional boom and single line reefing leading to the centre cockpit.

Our training schedule included a 750-mile sail out to Lord Howe Island, and our qualifying race: the Rolex Sydney-Hobart (in which we won the double-handed PHS Division). With each training sail, we tweaked Fika’s deck set-up and tested our original spinnakers and second-hand Code 0. Each training sail also reinforced how compatible Sophie and I are as a team. In the seven years since that delivery, I felt my daughter had become my sailing peer.

The two months leading up to the race were spent in Melbourne. Both my elderly parents were hospitalised six weeks before the start. My time became focused on mum and dad rather than the race. At times I felt incredibly selfish to be even thinking about starting, and seriously wondered if we would make it. My husband, Gerry, and Sophie’s partner, Simon, worked tirelessly to support us and help prepare Fika. Despite the sadness of leaving my parents, it was a huge relief to finally cross the start line.

Fika raced with a limited sail wardrobe, but still a lot for two to handle, especially when the spinnaker halyard jammed, requiring a mast climb. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

Bass Strait

Shortly after the start, we find ourselves in this predicament in Bass Strait. Besides the stuck spinnaker halyard, our hydraulic boom vang is faulty, greedily gulping all the hydraulic fluid required to work not only the vang but the backstay and babystay.

One step at a time, we tackle each of the issues. At the masthead, Sophie discovers the halyard soft shackle is caught around another fitting but is able to free it. We jury rig a Dyneema rope boom vang, then bleed and refill the hydraulic system with oil after isolating the vang from the more critical backstay. After four days we head offshore to find the north-bound East Australian Current. I feel immensely proud of the two of us as we problem solve.

At last we start making progress. I turn the race tracker back on and watch as we slowly rejoin the main fleet. We capture the tradewinds and make our way northwards along the Australian coast some 100 miles offshore. We push Fika as hard as possible, flying the spinnaker and Code 0 well into the night, sacrificing precious sleep for speed. Fika is in her element powering along on a broad reach. The gap to the fleet reduces to 5 miles from our nearest competitor Magellan, a one-off Knoop 39. It’s a game of snakes and ladders, and we are climbing a ladder.

Glassy seas and no wind were a regular feature. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

As we shed layers of clothing with the warming weather, we settle into a lovely routine sharing our meals, taking it in turns to catch up on sleep during the day, then sitting on the side deck in the shade for a ‘happy hour’ of soda water and nibbles. I relish our time together.

A low pressure trough disrupts our progress and prematurely stifles the south-east trades. The wind backs to the north-east and then north. The dice has rolled and we have landed on a snake. Our progress slows in lightening winds and the fleet sneaks ahead. We fly the Code 0 and chafe through the outer sheath of the halyard. With a bulging halyard we are unable to lower the sail. At midnight, Sophie and I mouse a spare while cutting the deformed one away. With success, we lower the Code 0 in the strengthening wind.

Solomon Sea

The temperature continues to rise as we inch closer towards the equator. Saltwater baths bring brief, welcome relief. We tack our way north, averaging just three miles an hour towards the entrance to the Solomon Sea. At 13°S the ocean resembles a mirror, the doldrums still a few hundred miles away.

Our progress is excruciatingly slow through the Solomon Sea as we experience light to no wind, headwinds, thunderstorm cells and constant squalls. If we are doing greater than one knot, we are veritably hooning along.

Sophie and I work hard to keep Fika moving with our limited sail wardrobe. We use the radar to monitor squalls, timing each reef to within a nautical mile of being hit. We’re relieved whenever a storm cell and rain squall passes to the north or south of us.

Annette at Fika’s wheel. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

Unfortunately there are times when there’s no escape. Squalls torment us, each bringing a minute of wind before it changes its mind in direction and strength. Then they get bored, toss us out like a play toy and move on. We’re inevitably left wallowing, usually pointing in the wrong direction. The larger storm cells bring torrential rain, 30-plus knots of wind and scary electrical storms. One night, Sophie and I cower in the cockpit with bolts of lightning and deafening thunder overhead. It lasts for an hour.

Mirror calm

There are, however, moments of sheer beauty. Periods of no wind often bring a glassy sea. We drop the sails and marvel at the stars and planets reflecting on the mirror-like ocean. I stop looking at the race tracker, as I end up berating myself for each mile lost to the competitors.

I feel powerless when our progress is poor, and give myself pep talks to sail our own race. I feel myself learning the gift of patience and perseverance. Sophie is much more at peace with our situation, she calmly listens to my moaning and puts it all in perspective. I try to mimic the tranquillity surrounding us.

It is hard to know where the doldrums start and finish, but we continue to experience calms and squalls until approximately 2°S. The Code 0 is a godsend and keeps Fika moving in the slightest breeze, until it tears from luff to leech. Our wings are clipped and we drift westwards with the equatorial current, trying to fight it whenever there is wind.

Thunderstorm cells and squalls were a constant threat in the Solomon Sea. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

We are hit by squalls, spat out, and spun around. I stop fighting the tide and try to be at peace with the doldrums. The nights are magnificent and when there is no swell, we drop the sails and drift while the sea and sky become one.

The strain on Fika from the constant slatting is noticeable, and at times distressing, with halyard chafe, mainsail cars coming apart and the main traveller loosening and leaking. We reef or drop the mainsail to prevent damage, use the preventer to hold the boom when the main is up. It is a never ending battle.

Flocks of small cumulus puffs herald the arrival of the north-east trades. Our spirits rise with our newfound movement and we revel in making progress once again. Fika glides along on a close reach under full sail and staysail. We are once again gaining on Magellan.

Pacific dreams

With our newfound freedom from constant sail changes, we watch the world go by from the cockpit, awestruck at the beauty surrounding us. The ocean is a magnificent blue. It is alive and dancing, seducing us with its vibrancy. Flying fish, false killer whales, booby birds and giant tuna grace Fika’s presence. I’m spellbound by the clouds and realise I can predict the day ahead by their behaviour and size. Time is marked by the phases of the moon, its light and reflection on the dark ocean bringing comfort to our night watches.

Fika’s huge overlapping headsail was a handful in tacks. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

We cross the equator and mark the milestone with an offering of rum to King Neptune. I make us Turks Head bracelets to mark the occasion, and we celebrate with pancakes. This is Sophie’s second crossing and my third.

All the while there is never-ending navigation and tactics to decode. Sophie and I spend each morning uploading GRIB files and working out the best strategy for passing through the Federated States of Micronesia and the Marianna Islands. Having made a decision, I then doubt myself when I see the other yachts taking different routes through the islands. We opt for the rhumb line, and I remind myself, again, to sail our own race. Sophie is steadfastly unfazed.

Osaka Wan

With 1,000 miles to go we feel like we are almost there, but know that our greatest challenge is yet to come. We leave the tradewinds and sail into the variables. As we inch closer to Japan shipping increases and we plan our final leg weaving our way through the Kuroshio Current to exploit its northbound flow.

The weather is moody and we prepare for low pressure systems sweeping across the course. Following a gale warning we make our final approach towards the entrance to Kii Suido, the entrance to Osaka Bay. With no moon, and building wind and seas, we sail blindly through the night. The phosphorescence outlines the breaking waves behind us. Fika is goosewinged with reefed sails, surfing down waves at 14-15 knots. It is a black night with a cacophony of ships flashing on our AIS and radar. We are back to chasing Magellan hard, now 12 miles ahead.

Sailing through the seasons from autumn to summer requires a full complement of foul weather gear. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

I hope that our luck holds and we don’t entangle the multitude of fishing floats and matted nylon rope ‘islands’ we’ve seen during daylight hours. With Fika’s skeg-hung rudder we’re susceptible to snagging flotsam.

By dawn, we are in fog with ships surrounding us. Horns sound every few minutes. We have just 70 miles to go and Sophie and I are tired. I know these last miles may take us 24 hours as the winds are fickle in the Osaka Wan. I remind us both that we need to stay safe and patient – in 2018 five yachts finished within hours of each other. All of us lost sense and many yachts did more damage in the final 50 miles than the whole race.

Sophie tackles each ship and its impending collision one by one. The wind eases and we favour the western side of Kii Suido which is predicted to have more wind. We are gaining on Magellan, painstakingly close to the finish. Inch by inch we close in. By dusk we ghost through the Yura Seto, the neck between the Kii Suido and Osaka Wan. There is a Traffic Separation Scheme with ships funnelling through. With luck, a gap opens between ships and we cross through it without being run down.

Sophie watches telltales. Photo: Sophie Snijders/Sailing Nakama

The final hours of our race are incredibly tense as we pass Magellan, only for them to overtake us again. We fall back into a tacking duel up Osaka Wan. By necessity rather than strategy we tack side by side, avoiding unlit seaweed farms, anchored barges, ships, tugs and lumps of reclaimed land.

The wind increases from the north. In 20 knots, we are tacking Fika like a dinghy, Sophie at the helm. With Fika’s huge overlapping headsail, in each tack the headsail threatens to entangle with the staysail before breaking free. I heave on the sheet with all my might. Fika is pointing high, slightly overpowered and we feather her up with the gusts.

Fika crosses the finish line. Photo: Kazuyoshi Yamano

There is light pollution and obstacles everywhere as Magellan and Fika blindly wrestle their way towards the finish. We are so amazed that after 5,500 miles we can be within metres of our competitors, a father and daughter team – this race really is a family affair. We cross the line in chaos, unsure where the virtual mark is. The VHF booms to life as the Japanese volunteers tell us we have finished. Magellan had snuck across nine minutes ahead having favoured the windward end. Regardless, we are blown away with excitement.

Sophie and I are in disbelief at what we have achieved. We spent 38 days at sea together and sailed over 5,500 miles racing our beloved cruising yacht. We sailed through equatorial heat, emotional highs and lows; beauty and joy. I am immensely proud of my daughter, her capability, empathy, resilience and strength, and honoured to be part of this great race.

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I awoke to the violent motion that comes with an angry squall in the night. Jumping out of my passage berth I rushed into the darkness and pulled on my harness, which was already tethered to the jackline. The portside rail was completely awash, forcing me to reach into the sea to find the winch and release the jib sheet to shorten the headsail. Next I fought to tie in the second reef, as the squall didn’t seem to be in a hurry to pass on. After shortening all sail, I collapsed in the cockpit, soaking wet and exhausted. I was alone, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and had to remind myself that I’d chosen this solo sailing life.

The next morning, Triteia sailed fast and smooth across a comfortable sea, the sun warmed my skin and the sky was packed with fluffy tradewind clouds backed by a brilliant blue sky. That same solitude was joyful.

There’s no place on earth where you’ll feel more alone than at sea. To some this is what dreams are made of, for others it’s the stuff of nightmares. Often, it can be both at once. From shortening sail to watch-keeping to repairs at sea, the practicalities of cruising alone means it’s not a choice for the faint of heart.

When you’re sailing solo, there’s no one to catch your mistakes, and you must have confidence in your decision-making as there’s nobody else to discuss how you might best handle a situation. But much like the challenges, the rewards a solo sailor receives are beyond measure.

Solo sailors are a different breed, enjoying solitude for days or weeks at a time. They generally have a different relationship with fear and anxiety than those who’d rather not face the risks of the sea alone. When solo, you must approach all aspects of sailing with extra caution.

Injury is of great concern to anyone who cruises alone, there’s no one else to run the ship if you get hurt, seasick or worse still, fall overboard. So why do we do it? I asked some of my fellow solo sailors to explain the allure of such a life.

Solo sailing gives plenty of time for contemplation. Photo: Tor Johnson

Personal choices

There are many reasons why sailors decide to cruise alone. For some, it is simply not having someone to share the adventure with at the same time, for others it’s a conscious choice. Holly Martin, now 33, has been sailing since birth, having been born in New Zealand while her parents were completing a circumnavigation. Martin started her solo cruising life in 2018, setting off from Maine on her Grinde 27 double-ender.

“I bought a 27ft boat because I was on an extremely tight budget,” she explains. “My parents circumnavigated on a Cal 25 so I wasn’t afraid to go small. Instead of spending years saving up for a bigger boat, I bought one that I could afford. Cruising on a small boat is more a mindset than an inconvenience.”

“I’d worked professionally on boats for five years by the time I bought my boat, but I knew I still had a lot to figure out as far as being the captain was concerned. I wanted to fill in all the gaps in my knowledge on my own for two reasons. One was that I didn’t want my mistakes to potentially affect the safety of crew. The other was that I didn’t want to be influenced by someone else’s opinions.

I’d spent years as a deckhand and mate being told what to do and how to do it and I was excited to make 100% of those calls on my own. I was also excited to spend weeks alone at sea and dig into myself to see what I found. I only intended to sail solo for a few months, but I quickly found that I loved it and didn’t want it any other way.”

Self reliance is the most important skill for solo sailors – there’ll be no-one to help you out when things don’t go as planned. Photo: Tor Johnson

For any solo or short-handed sailor the size of your vessel is always a key consideration. It needs to be small enough to be easily handled alone, not just at sea but also in port. The larger the yacht gets, the more comfortable in a seaway they become, and the faster the passage – which will in turn increase the safety factor due to being able to complete an ocean passage in a shorter time and navigate weather systems with more ease.

But with an increase in size comes greater challenges of handling the boat alone, from reducing sail during a squall to attempting to dock solo in strong winds or currents. The loads become much greater – reefing a mainsail solo on a 40ft boat is considerably more difficult than reefing a mainsail on a 30ft boat.

Many larger yachts these days are adorned with electric winches for ease of handling, but what happens if they fail while at sea? Could you still manage the boat solo without their assistance? You’ll have to find a balance between what you can handle safely and what you can afford to maintain.

When it comes to comfort, this should also be seen as an element of safety, because there’s little more dangerous to a solo sailor than fatigue.

Bigger is not always better, especially when you consider the fact that many new yachts have wide open cabins that look more like condos – space that becomes unwanted and dangerous for the solo sailor.

All this is not to say that solo cruising is limited to 30-footers or smaller. David Haigh chose his steel 40ft Van de Stadt cutter, Sahula, for extended cruising both solo and with crew. “I first chose a well reputed cruising yacht designer. The outside shape of the yacht is critical to its being a capable sailing boat. I wanted shallow draught (for rivers and canals) and a rudder on a skeg. I wanted over 6ft headroom in the living quarters.

Holly Martin sailing solo on her Grinde 27 Gecko. Photo: WindHippieSailing

“I wanted both an aft cabin and a forward cabin so the skipper and crew could have maximum private space, and I wanted ‘stretch out’ space in the cockpit. Sahula provided these assets and more.”

Haigh, now 76, decided to adopt a ‘hybrid’ model of cruising during an 11-year circumnavigation that he began in his 60s, taking on various crew for longer passages while enjoying stretches of coastal cruising solo. “On ocean passages I always took on a crew. It was not fair to my family to risk a solo ocean passage. Also, I was aware of how trying storm conditions would be and maybe more so when aged over 60 or 70 years old.

“I enjoyed the company of crew. I undertook to teach them sailing and they quickly became competent. For them it was a lifetime adventure. They were educated youths – a physicist, a specialist carpenter etc, on a pre-university year out.”

Kiana Weltzien is another solo sailor who has enjoyed ocean passages with friends as crew but prefers her solitude. Weltzien started her solo sailing adventures in 2018 at the age of 22, and has since made five Atlantic crossings aboard her 1971 Wharram Narai MkI multihull, Mara Noka.

Weltzien explains: “There is something about being alone that allows me to be completely and absolutely myself, and when other people are around, even the best of friends, I feel as though I must suppress that a bit.
“Decision-making is a big factor too, as not having to explain or justify my decisions brings me a lot less stress when I am in riskier situations.

Holly Martin is cruising the Solomon Islands aboard Gecko. youtube.com/WindHippieSailing. Photo: WindHippieSailing

“I suppose though, what I prefer the most about being solo is not having the added responsibility of people’s lives. Because that’s intense.”

Personally, I find the easiest times to be alone on the boat are when things are at their most challenging due to sea state or heavy weather. I’m very comfortable being uncomfortable, but if I had someone else on board my small boat in big mean seas I would be concerned about their discomfort.

Worse still, if I had crew on board who were complaining. For me, misery loves solitude.

Managing fatigue

There’s no getting around the fact that solo sailing is far more demanding physically and mentally than sailing with others. From ship handling to watch keeping, all tasks fall on the sole crewmember. Never getting more than a few hours of sleep at a time, for weeks on end, also taxes you mentally and leads to one of the most dangerous obstacles to overcome; extreme fatigue.

Sam Holmes started his solo ocean sailing career on a 23ft Ranger, Swedish Fish, that he sailed from Los Angeles to Hawaii. He later traded up for his current boat, Pickled Herring, a Cape Dory 28 which he has been cruising on in the Atlantic since 2020. Holmes recalls: “Sailing overnight in the English Channel and trying to keep a watch for ships, wind farms and oil platforms with limited opportunities for sleep, I definitely would have liked to have someone to trade off watches on those passages!”

David Haigh is currently cruising in Vanuatu with partner Lin Pardey on board Sahula.
pardeytime.blogspot.com. Photo: David Haigh

I believe fatigue is the greatest threat to safety for a solo sailor. When you’re exhausted you make poor decisions, become forgetful and your reaction times are slower.

At sea, alone, that combination can result in serious injury or death. The more you sail the more you become aware of this and learn how to mitigate it. I try to rest as much as possible, day or night. Even if sleep is impossible, to just ‘power down’ and lay in your bunk with your eyes covered, resting your body and mind, is as important as keeping your ship in order.

On my solo passage from Los Angeles to Hawaii my older brother, David Frederick, sent me a message on my Iridium GO! asking me to write down a list of all the things that needed to be done daily and tape it up in the navstation. He could see that as my fatigue increased, I’d find it harder and harder remembering what I needed to do. Being ex-military, he’d been trained to make physical lists during challenging situations in the field.

I found this process very helpful and have repeated it on all my ocean passages since (it’s a trick the pro racers also use, during The Ocean Race, Team Malizia did the same, with playbook instructions for manoeuvres pinned up in the cockpit).

One of my most challenging moments as a solo sailor was making landfall in New Zealand. I sailed into the Bay of Islands at first light in a building gale, having not slept all night due to ship traffic and nervousness about approaching land. I passed Nine Pin Rock with a third reef tied in the main and less than 90% of my headsail out. Still Triteia was making between 7-8 knots with big following seas that were stacking up as the depths became shallower.

David Haigh. Photo: David Haigh

In the dark of the morning I could see rocky shores to starboard and scattered islands to port. I had no working engine and the storm was forecasted to build throughout the day. By the time I tied up to the quarantine dock at Opua I’d been awake for 36 hours. Everything felt like it was in a semi-dream state and I was operating at the very edge of what was possible for me.

When it comes to solo sailing, sometimes this scenario is unavoidable. I find the best course of action at getting through these situations successfully is to consciously dial back your movements to half the speed you normally operate at. Move slow and think each action and reaction through before you do them. This will greatly reduce your risk of injury or worse.

Secret joys

However, there is a peace that falls upon the solo sailor once land and its associated dangers are out of sight. Once you’re settled into the routine of passagemaking, being alone often leaves you more attuned to your environment. The sound of the sea rushing past the hull, the distant call of seabirds, the small creaks and rattles in the cabin underway create a soundtrack that accompanies you for the days or weeks ahead.

Henry David Thoreau wrote: ‘I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude’. This sentiment rings true for all sailors who have found they prefer to explore the world in their own company.

Without the distractions of crew, your senses heighten, alert to not only the dangers but also the beauty of the world around you. You find silence while being surrounded by sound, stillness while in constant motion. Visits from wildlife make your heart swell and you know all that you are seeing and feeling belong only to you.

To allow time for rest and recuperation, thoroughly reliable self steering gear (with redundancy) is essential equipment. Photo: Tor Johnson

“A memory I’ll never forget is my first sight of land after 41 days alone at sea from Panama to the Marquesas,” recalls Holly Martin.

“The final sunset before my arrival day had a peculiar tang to it. Part of me wanted to stay at sea forever. I’d sunk into a deep meditative state. I could lie in the cockpit for hours listening to music and staring at the clouds. I could examine my life, my past, my problems and trepidations with no emotional attachment. It was like being my own therapist. I wrote pages in my journal every day.

“Life was simple and sweet. Going back to land meant giving that up. But it also meant colour and movement and joy. When the sun rose over the green mountains of Nuku Hiva, I felt a wild elation.

“Thousands of miles of wind and waves had pushed me towards this giant rock sticking out of the ocean. The smell of flowers and soil rushed into my nostrils and overwhelmed my senses. It was heady, overwhelming, and completely perfect.”

Kiana Weltzien is sailing in the Caribbean. Photo: womenandthewind.com

Alone, or lonely?

A common question solo sailors get is: ‘Don’t you get lonely?’. For me, I prefer doing ocean passages solo and love having friends visit me in port to explore the islands and countries I’m cruising. I rarely find myself lonely at sea but often when coastal cruising I long for a familiar face to share the beauty of a place. This sentiment was shared by many other solo sailors I spoke to.

“I have the unfair advantage of being extremely antisocial and loving my solitude more than any other person I know!” says Kiana Weltzien.

“Out there I have my boat, the birds, fish, and myself to talk to so that isn’t much of an issue. And I have books and podcasts to talk back to me.

“One of my favourite parts of going out to sea solo is knowing that I don’t have to hang out with anyone, and I don’t even have to make an excuse for it.”

Holly Martin adds; “I don’t get lonely at sea. This is my ‘me time’ when I slow down and tune my brain to a lower frequency. Being at sea alone is a joy. The times I experience loneliness is when I’m on anchor with no friends around. I love to share the pleasure of exploring a new port. But this is usually easily remedied because sailors are friendly everywhere in the world and always open to making new friends.”

Kiana Weltzien on board Mara Noka. Photo: womenandthewind.com

While cruising sailors are, for the most part, a very friendly bunch, sometimes it can be hard to meet people when sailing solo. One of the easiest ways I’ve made friends in various ports and anchorages was by being a part of the Ocean Cruising Club and flying my yellow and blue club burgee, as well as simply striking up a conversation when you see anyone in their cockpit.

Sam Holmes noted: “I enjoy having someone along for some of the coastal cruising bits. You see places in different ways when you’re solo versus with company.

“I’ve seen and snorkelled at so many amazing places that sometimes I get a little jaded. When I get to take someone else to an awesome spot and see their excitement, though, it really makes me excited about exploring more places again.”

Like Holmes, I too enjoy sharing the experience of an amazing place with others. Recently I was invited by Andy Schell of 59º North Sailing to join the crew on board their 65ft Farr Falken for a sail from Newfoundland to Greenland and Iceland with a total of 11 crew. Sailing on a yacht that is more than double the size of my 30ft sloop, with 10 other sailors, was so incredibly different to my experiences of cruising solo.

I stood on deck while Falken transited Prince Christian Sound in Southern Greenland, staring up at the most remarkable mountains I’d ever seen as we sailed past iceberg after iceberg. Glancing around at the crew I saw nothing but amazement on everyone’s faces. This incredible experience was made all the more beautiful by sharing it in the company of fellow sailors.

Solo sailing certainly isn’t for everyone. But those of us who have held communion alone with the great oceans of the world have an experience that cannot be understood until you’ve done it.

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The post Ever dreamed of setting off on a solo sailing voyage? appeared first on Yachting World.

Yesterday’s scheduled start for the Transat Jacques Vabre – the double-handed race across the Atlantic from Le Havre to Martinique – partially got away on Sunday 29 October, but the IMOCA class have been held ashore and both the Class 40 and Ocean 50 trimarans are racing only as far as Lorient before pausing to restart. The Ultimes were the sole fleet to set off on non-stop transatlantic.

The reason for the disrupted start schedule is a series of low pressure systems forming in the Atlantic. With a particularly strong depression scheduled to cross the fleet on Wednesday, the decision was made early on start day morning to send the Class 40s and Ocean 50s on a 320 mile passage to Lorient on the French Atlantic coast, where they will be able to pause racing and then restart.

However, the 40-boat IMOCA fleet – many of whom now carry large foils – are not so easily accommodated in other ports and so will be held ashore in Le Havre until conditions moderate. Results will be calculated with aggregate race time.

“We were all prepared to go, until the fleet got a message saying the start will be postponed,” explained IMOCA Medallia skipper Pip Hare yesterday. “Unlike the other fleets we’re not going to do a short leg, basically because there’s nowhere for us to go – all the ports are full. So we’re staying here.

“I think we could be here for a week because we’ve got the monster low that’s causing all the problems, and then there’s another one after that.”

Article continues below…

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The challenge for the TJV skippers would have been to make sufficient ground to the south in order to avoid the incoming secondary low – but for almost every IMOCA skipper the Transat Jacques Vabre (and the return solo race, Retour a la Base) are key qualifiers for the 2024 Vendée Globe and so many would have been planning a conservative approach to the early stages of this transatlantic.

The giant ultim trimarans, capable of 700-plus miles per day, are capable of outrunning the approaching low pressure system and so have started their race non-stop.

Despite the IMOCAs being held ashore, the start was spectacular, with five giant Ultim, 44 Class 40s, and six Ocean 50s launching out of Le Havre in tough and gusty conditions.

LE HAVRE, FRANCE – OCTOBER 29 : Ultim boats start the Transat Jacques Vabre in Le Havre, France, on October 29, 2023. (photo by Jean-Marie Liot / Alea)

In the challenging seaway there were some early collisions and overnight the Class 40 Crédit Mutuel dismasted off the coast of Guernsey, while two other boats have paused racing, one after colliding with an underwater object.

By this morning the Ultim race leaders were already nearly 200 miles west of Ushant and setting up to cross the first front into the 15-20 knots north-westerly winds which will set them up for some fast sailing southwards.

Furthest to the north-west, Francois Gabart and Tom Laperche on SVR Lazartigue are likely to get into the new wind first, while Armel Le Cléac’h and Seb Josse on Maxi Banque Populaire lead on the tracker by 8.5 miles.

Gabart said this morning, “We wanted to keep things simple with fewer manoeuvres. It wasn’t easy to get well positioned in winds that kept changing direction. In any case, the routings to the north or south of the TSS were fairly close to each other. We now have the wind behind the front and are on a long starboard tack towards Cape Finisterre.”

Transat Jacques Vabre start delayed: The right decision

Despite the last-minute announcements – “I had my boots on!” one skipper joked – there was support among the IMOCA fleet for the race committee decision to delay the Transat Jacques Vabre start.

“At this time of year a weather front coming up the western approaches and into Biscay is relatively normal, but this one that’s coming in Wednesday is particularly aggressive, it will have a big sea state behind it and as it approaches Finisterre where the continental shelf is that means huge breaking waves, damage to boats, damage to people, and its’ just not a good idea to head out into that,” explained Pip Hare.

“I think in general the response among the fleet is this is the correct decision. Those of us that were looking for bail out options realised there were very few.”

IMOCAs held ashore

Yoann Richomme, who is looking to qualify his new Paprec Arkéa for next year’s Vendée Globe, said: “Yesterday evening, I understood we would be heading out into an exceptionally deep low.

“We can cope with 40-50 knot winds, but here we are looking at 80 knots gusting to 100-115 knots with 10-12m high waves. With the danger to life, there is no good reason to be out at sea. It’s not reasonable to send the boats out in this, even cargo vessels.”

One of the early race favourites, Charlie Dalin with his new Macif, had already confirmed that he was not going to compete due to a medical issue.

Dalin planned to cross the start line and then retire due to a health issue, as there is provision within the Vendée Globe rules for a new boat to gain qualification miles even if a medical or technical issue prevents them for completing the course.

However, the majority of IMOCA skippers will be looking to complete two transatlantic in the next few weeks and will be watching the weather forecast carefully.

Regular updates are being posted on the official Transat Jacques Vabre website.

The post ‘Boat breaking’ depression disrupts Transat Jacques Vabre start appeared first on Yachting World.

Double handed sailing skills are increasingly important to master as the recent boom in double handed racing, both inshore and offshore, continues and boats designed for couples to cruise two-up become ever more popular. We now regularly see crews of two managing all sizes of boat, and sailing them with the same efficiency and expectations as full crews.

These techniques are designed for double handed crews sailing a yacht with an autopilot, and an asymmetric spinnaker. We’re sailing a J/99, which has a fixed bowsprit and hanked-on jib. Thanks to Key Yachting for their support.

Beating can be one of the less challenging points of sail for a double handed team. If the boat is well balanced with an appropriate sail plan, the autopilot will steer efficiently and one person can manage the cockpit while the other rests or, on longer voyages, manages cooking and maintenance. In poor weather only having one person on deck at a time ensures the crew can take time to get dry and warm between watches.

There are, however, times when it is useful to have both sailors on deck when sailing upwind. Previously we focussed on tacking double handed, while this month we’ll focus on reefing and active upwind trim.

Managing power and reducing sail area when sailing upwind are important skills for double handed crews to master; for those racing without the benefit of extra weight on the rail, the boat will overpower more quickly and require different techniques to sail fast as the wind speed increases. Cruising sailors will want the confidence to know that, should a squall arrive or conditions change quickly, they have the capability to respond with ease and without drama.

The boat will overpower more quickly without crew on the rail. Photo: Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Sail trim

As conditions get gusty, a double handed team will need to use all trimming tools available to keep the boat from overpowering, so if regularly sailing short-handed it is worth investing in a cockpit setup that allows the commonly used controls to be managed easily by one person from the helm. This will include traveller, backstay, mainsheet and vang, and you could also look at cross sheeting the jib sheets for longer tacks on smaller boats.

Playing the mainsail constantly in gusts can be exhausting for a two-person team, but also impractical over long distances as it doesn’t allow a solo watchkeeper to navigate, make a cuppa or leave the cockpit for any reason.

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As the wind speed increases, think about using more twist to give a softer leech. For the mainsail this means bringing the traveller up to centre or just above and easing the mainsheet to twist the top of the sail off. The backstay can be very effective at opening the leech of the mainsail and it’s often worth trying more backstay before changing the sail shape with traveller and mainsheet. The jib will also benefit from twist by moving the jib cars back, and easing the sheet a tiny amount. As the mainsail is eased to reduce power it will be essential to twist off the jib to avoid turbulence in the back of the mainsail.

This soft trim will allow the boat to maintain speed through a greater range of wind angles, making it easier for an autopilot or a human to drive in wavy conditions without the constant need for sail trimming. You may need to increase your average wind angle by a couple of degrees, but particularly on an offshore passage this is often a fast mode of sailing in moderate to strong winds and a lot less tiring for double handed crews.

Put the traveller down and ease the mainsheet to allow boom to rise, then ease the halyard down to first reefing point. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Reefing

The most efficient way to reef as a double handed team is with both sailors hands-on, and the autopilot steering. This way you’ll be able to pull reefs in and out at the same speed as a fully crewed team.

Upwind reefing

When upwind reefing I find it best to change the autopilot mode to compass before starting sail handling – it would normally be steering to apparent wind. Sailing in compass mode should maintain a steady course while reefing and avoid any course corrections that would lead to loss of steerage while the mainsail is depowered.

Crew in cockpit can pull on reefing line with one hand while keeping loose tension on the halyard with the other. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Once the pilot is set up, release the mainsheet or dump the traveller to depower the mainsail and ensure the boat is able to keep a steady speed and course under jib alone; in larger sea states you may need to bear away a couple of degrees from your optimum close-hauled course. Once the pilot is holding steady, the helm can move forward in the cockpit to manage running rigging while the trimmer heads to the windward side of the mast to manage the sail.

With the autopilot driving, the second crew at the mast guides down the luff and attaches the reefing cringle. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

If using lazy jacks or a lazy bag to contain the reefed sail area, ensure these are pulled on to the correct tension before reefing. Drop the traveller, release the vang, and then ease the mainsheet just enough to unload the leech. Try not to dump the mainsheet further than required – if the boom is flogging wildly it will, in turn, give movement to the reefing lines which can loop around the end of the boom.

Drop the main halyard down to the first reefing point, but no further – marks on the halyard will help a lot. The crew at the mast should not need to pull the sail down if it runs on sliders or batten cars, as gravity should bring it down. If it’s not descending alone this could be a sign that you have too much power in the mainsail and need to release vang or mainsheet. Bolt rope sails do not slide down so easily and may need a little help from the mast crew.

Once the halyard is clipped on, grind it up to re-tension the luff, then tension the foot by taking in the reefing line. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Once the sail is down, attach the reefing cringle to the gooseneck. While this is happening overhaul the reefing lines as much as possible to reduce the risk of them tangling around the boom. I do this by grabbing all three reefing lines in one hand and pulling through the slack together.

Once the forward end of the reef is attached, re-tension the halyard. Then tension the reefing line, double-check the vang and mainsheet are sufficiently eased to allow the boom up to meet the new foot of the sail, then trim the reefing line like an outhaul. Keep the autopilot in compass mode until the reef has been tidied away to ensure a steady course while someone is working on the boom. Once all is squared away, switch the pilot back to apparent wind mode and trim in. You may need to power the boat up slightly post reef, moving the jib car forward, using more mainsheet and easing the backstay.

Once reef is set, sheet the mainsheet back on, then tidy the reef away and secure the mainsail with elastics. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Reefing offwind

Reefing off the wind can be a challenge but there are some tricks that will help a short-handed team master this skill – without needing drastic course changes and even while flying a spinnaker if desired. The main challenge when reefing off the wind is how to depower the mainsail sufficiently to allow it to drop.

As breeze builds you may need to increase jib twist earlier than when fully crewed. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Reaching and white sails

When white sail reaching, switch your pilot to compass mode prior to easing the mainsheet. This may allow you to take advantage of any decreases to the wind angle during gusts, or while the boat is surfing. Prior to releasing the mainsheet and dropping the main, sheet the jib in to a close-hauled position. If you’re able, pull the jib car forward, and if using in-haulers pull them in. This may take a little time, however the action of drastically over-sheeting the jib should create enough disturbance behind the mainsail to lift it off the spreaders and allow gravity to do its work so the mainsail will drop as the halyard is eased.

An autopilot remote control is helpful for manoeuvres. Photo: Richard Langdon/Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Downwind

When reefing under spinnaker or cruising chute keep the autopilot steering in True Wind Mode and do not be tempted to head up in an attempt to depower the mainsail as this will power the spinnaker up. The mainsail will come down, but it takes a bit of time and you’ll need to use a slightly different method and be patient.

Prior to reefing, ensure the vang and mainsheet are completely eased and the traveller is fully descended. Drop the main halyard to the reefing mark. If the sail does not descend pull the halyard forward through the jammer by hand and then close the jammer at the reefing mark. This will allow the sail to drop down independently as the boat accelerates or rolls over waves and unloads the main. The crew at the mast can also try pulling the luff down, working in time with waves and boat speed – as the boat surfs the apparent wind will go forward and the mainsail will unload.

Meanwhile, load the reefing line on to a winch and gently start grinding the back end of the sail down. When reefing downwind, as the mainsail drops the leech of the sail will be blown forward, pushing the sail against the spreaders and making it more difficult for the sail to descend any further. Pulling in the reefing line as the sail descends will keep the leech to windward and allow the front of the sail to drop more easily. Watch the sail carefully when grinding on the reefing line. If the boom starts rising up or the sail shows unusual load lines, stop and wait for the luff to descend again. Drop the sail in stages, pulling on the reefing line and the luff in turn.

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British solo sailor Simon Curwen has crossed the finish line of the Golden Globe Race, the single-handed around the world ‘retro’ event, after 234 days and 22 hours of racing.

Curwen, who is from Emsworth in the UK but also a resident of Brittany, France, crossed the line off Les Sables d’Olonne at midday today in his 1976-built Biscay 36 Clara. Fans from the French Atlantic town turned out to welcome him home, and Curwen took time to enjoy the moment, sailing up Les Sables’ famous Channel with his spinnaker flying, flares in hand.

Curwen is the first solo skipper to complete the course, having set off on September 4, 2022. However, he is not eligible to win the event, which is a non-stop race, as he had to put into Puerto Montt in Chile to make repairs to his windvane system. This demoted him to ‘Chichester’ class, although he resumed racing after making repairs ashore.

He was unaware that he was first home until his arrival, as skippers can’t use modern communication devices such as AIS which would show his competitors’ position.

“That’s fantastic!” he said after being told. “I need to look and see how that happened because I must’ve been 10 days behind [the race leaders] at the Cape [Horn].

“I wasn’t in the race, it’s not a race, but it’s very nice to be back first!”

“It’s fantastic, getting back to civilization,” he added on arrival on the dock. “The race was fantastic. There were times when it was tough – not so much physically tough, and the weather wasn’t particularly extreme except for one wave – but just the fact of being on the boat for so long. 

“And particularly being on these boats downwind for so long because you’re just rocking and rolling, you can’t relax, you’re just being thrown about. And there was a lot of downwind on the race!”

Simon Curwen on Clara sailing before the Golden Globe Race start in Les Sables d’Olonne.

His scariest moment, he said, was not in the deep Southern Ocean, but passing Finisterre in fog. “There were dozens of ships around Finisterre, and not being able to see them on AIS

I was calling them up and saying ‘can you see little me?’. That was probably the scariest moment because some of them came really close, and some of the ones in thick fog I just couldn’t see at all.”

Today’s arrival will likely be bittersweet for Curwen, who led the fleet from the Bay of Biscay until some 1,000 miles off Cape Horn. In late January Curwen was sailing in 40 knot winds and 6-metre seas when his Biscay 36, Clara was knocked down; the boat’s dodger ripped off and the Hydrovane head sheared off. The mainsail batten cars were also pulled from the mast track.

He tweeted at the time: ‘Disaster, as concerns the race. Early today Clara was knocked down. Sailing with just tiny headsail. The windvane head sheared off. Boat and skipper fine. Working on a plan.’

The windvane part was irreparable, and Curwen was not carrying a spare windvane in order to save weight, so he had to retire from the race in order to make repairs.

Simon Curwen on the Biscay Clara, sponsored by Howdens, was 1st through Golden Globe Race’s Hobart Gate on Christmas Eve 2022.

Once Curwen set off to complete the course, he sailed an impressively fast return Atlantic leg. “I am ahead of my best expectations in terms of speed up the Atlantic,” he reported last week. “It is partly because the boat is still in very good nick. 

“The sails are pretty much as good as at the start, and the antifoul [he used Nautix A9000 SPC Self-Polishing Copolymer] is good and the boat is lighter, as I’ve eaten a lot of food, so the boat has been going well. 

“I have also been fortunate with the weather, and my routing, I think, has worked well. I have not done anything extraordinary at all, just kept to very straight lines, but I am a few days ahead of my most optimistic expectations for coming up the Atlantic.”

Curwen is an experienced racer, having competed on the RORC and JOG offshore circuits as well as a Mini Transat (he still holds the best Mini Transat result of any British singlehanded sailor, coming second in the 2000-2001 event). He prepared his boat assiduously, setting up base in Lorient ahead of the Golden Globe Race, and repeatedly demonstrated not only impressive seamanship on his first circumnavigation, but both his and Clara’s competitiveness again in the race.

Despite not being eligible for the race win, he was relaxed and jovial on arrival, bantering with the waiting journalists in French. The 2018 race winner Jean Luc van den Heede also awarded Curwen a pennant as a verified ‘Cape Horner’.

“What’s next? Well, food, and people probably will want me to have a shower given I’ve only used 250 litres of water the whole trip!” he added.

The first non-stop skipper in the race, Kirsten Neuschafer, is expected to arrive in Les Sables later tonight, with 2nd placed Abhilash Tomy predicted tomorrow morning. 

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In the late Noughties and early 2010s, sailing garnered astonishing levels of attention due to a series of teenagers bidding to become the youngest sailor to sail around the world. One of the most high profile was Jessica Watson, who set off from Sydney in 2009 aged 16, and completed her loop of Antarctica – and a dip north across the Equator in the Pacific – to return an all-Australian hero after 210 days at sea.

It was a remarkable story, much of which was told in real time in Watson’s blog and video diaries. Thirteen years on, Netflix has made a feature-length sailing film based on her voyage, called True Spirit. Following the film’s release in the UK, we spoke to Watson about the experience.

True Spirit is available to watch on Netflix worldwide

Jessica Watson in the spotlight

In the film version of True Spirit viewers are introduced to the teenage Jessica Watson aboard her S&S 34 Ella’s Pink Lady on a trial solo sail, when a violent collision with a 63,000 tonne cargo ship off Queensland leaves the yacht dismasted, and both Watson and her family ashore shaken.

It’s the same opening scene Watson begins her autobiography with, and it’s as shocking to watch as it is to read her written account: “I grabbed at the tiller, flicked off the autopilot and tried to steer us. It was hopeless.

“There was nowhere to go, nothing I could do. Shuddering and screeching, we were being swept down the ship’s hull. A glance told me that the ship’s stern, with its bridges protruding, was fast approaching. The noises were getting louder and, knowing that the mast and rigging were about to come down, I rushed back below hoping for some protection.

“The cupboard next to me ripped apart as the chainplate behind the bulkhead splintered it into a million pieces. The boat heeled to one side then suddenly sprung upright with the loudest explosion yet as the entangled rigging suddenly freed itself and crashed to the deck.”

While the collision would be a terrifying experience for anyone to go through, let alone a teenager on their own, the film highlights how the media storm that met her ashore was even more intimidating. Many commentators questioned the judgement of Watson’s parents, an additional pressure which the film captures neatly.

Watson, now 30, admits that the prospect of being the centre of attention once again with the film’s launch didn’t entirely fill her with joy. “I certainly went into this with mixed emotions. I enjoy my life, I like not being recognised very often, and so there was a bit of trepidation. But at the same time, I’m just so grateful and hopefully this is good for sailing.”

An ethical dilemma

The teen solo sailor trend was a remarkable phenomenon. Australian Jesse Martin was one of the earliest, when he completed a non-stop, unassisted solo around the world voyage to and from Melbourne in 1999 aged 18. Martin recounted the trip in his S&S 34 Lionheart, also the title of his book, which was a major influence and source of inspiration for Watson.

With increasing unease and debate on the ethics of encouraging young teens to take on such potentially dangerous challenges, both within the sport of sailing and across newspaper columns and chat-show sofas around the world, the World Sailing Speed Record Council discontinued recognition of its ‘youngest’ sailor category. Martin has since remained the perpetual record holder, despite the flurry of much younger skippers which followed.

Jessica Watson (right) with actor Teagan Croft who played her in the film adaptation. Photo: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy

Much of the debate ignored the fact that the teenagers were often extraordinarily experienced yachtsmen from remarkable families. Certainly that was the case for Dutch sailor Laura Dekker, as well as American brother and sister Zac and Abby Sunderland, who both attempted circumnavigations (Zac successfully, Abby’s Open 40 was dismasted).

Jessica Watson also had a fairly nomadic childhood with years spent living on boats or converted buses. Ironically, her father had a television hire company but the Watson family never owned one, as she recalled in her autobiography: “I think Dad saw how dependent people became on them and how they restricted the lives of their owners – keeping them inside and inactive – and he decided he didn’t ever want to be like that.”

The Watson family’s unconventionality gets a little lost in the film, so keen were directors and scriptwriters to make them relatable, and show the toll Jessica’s attempt took as an emotional undercurrent tugging throughout the film. For Jessica herself, however, the family storyline was a powerful one to watch.

“Seeing the emotional experience that [my family] went through is pretty intense. I think I’ve appreciated it better in the years since, particularly when other sailors I knew have been in trouble at sea and I’ve had to sit on shore. It’s far worse waiting for news, I would rather be out there in the thick of it. So it is really a reminder of the one extraordinary thing they did by reluctantly letting me go.”

Other figures who had a huge part in Watson’s story – including Golden Globe Race organiser Don McIntyre, who secured her S&S 34 – are blended into one single character who becomes her mentor, shore team, and sounding board.

Some scenes in True Spirit have been dramatised. Photo: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy

How close to reality is True Spirit film?

While it’s gratifying to see sailing in a mainstream family film, sailing hasn’t always succeeded on the silver screen and there are elements of True Spirit which will rankle. It’s something Jessica Watson is well aware of.

“Of course, as sailors there’s parts of the movie which will be a little bit maddening for us.

“I was never relaxed about the details. I always wanted the details to be right where possible. So I have mixed feelings [about some of it]. But there’s so much I love about it too, that it showcases how beautiful it is, how special it is [to be at sea], and there’s nothing better than a little S&S sailing along for me.

Scene from the Netflix film of Watson’s solo circumnavigation. Photo: Images: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy

“It was a case of spending a lot of time with the director and the cast, talking about the inspiration behind it and helping them understand that world. And then I had to step away when it came to shooting some of the details and left them to do that.”

There is one scene – a knockdown which Watson did experience in real life – that involves a degree of suspension of disbelief. “That massive wave did happen in the Atlantic, but it probably didn’t happen quite that dramatically,” Watson says. “Though they did capture the essence of the feeling that time does stand still when you’re upside down in a knockdown.”

Watson arriving back in Sydney Harbour to a hero’s welcome in 2010. Photo: Reuters/Alamy

There are other moments where dramatic licence takes over, including one where Watson is nearly swept overboard through the lifelines. The reality was rather more boring. “I had a furling headsail and then a staysail on an inner forestay, where the storm jib went as well. That all worked incredibly well. As the weather picked up, I was able to just furl the headsail away and have the storm sail ready to go,” she explains, “Something I’m quite proud of is I that I never went on the foredeck – in fact I never left the cockpit – in over 30 knots of wind.

“Sure, I maybe sacrificed a little bit of speed, but that was part of the really conservative way that I was sailing. I could put my fourth reef in from the cockpit, but very often approaching really bad conditions I’d have the mainsail stitched and away.”

Unsurprisingly there’s little in the movie to show more mundane tasks, such as waiting for GRIB files to download. In fact, Jessica Watson was very well supported for weather routing by New Zealand meteorologist Bob McDavitt, who sent multiple daily updates which Watson would overlay with her own weather charts.

Jessica Watson and Ella’s Pink Lady cross the finish line for her unassisted solo circumnavigation. Photo: Christophe Launay/DPPI Media/Alamy

While routing has always been accepted for solo record attempts, with no official governing body to answer to, the question of what counted as ‘unassisted’ for youth sailors was open to interpretation. In 2007 British teenager Michael Perham became the youngest person to solo sail across the Atlantic aged just 14, while his father shadowed him sailing in a separate yacht.

For Watson, there was controversy whether her 23,000-mile route ventured far enough north of the Equator to count as a true around-the-world. “It certainly doesn’t worry me,” says Watson. “The biggest thing for me is that there’s no official record, as none of the bodies recognise the youngest records, which is perfectly understandable. So I don’t understand how there can be a debate about whether or not you comply with a rule that doesn’t exist.

“The route I took, chosen with my team, was about making it as safe as possible. It put me in the right oceans at the right times, and it did the things that are generally recognised as sailing around the world. I’m very at peace with that.”

Scene from the Netflix film of Watson’s solo circumnavigation. Photo: Images: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy

The next Jessica Watson?

While Watson was inspired by reading about Jesse Martin’s adventures, would she welcome new young sailors inspired to tackle a circumnavigation after watching True Spirit? “Absolutely, if people are serious,” she says.

Such a project is, however, very reliant on having the right yacht. “People do ask me if I would do it again, and my answer is only if the boat was exactly the same and I had the same support crew, otherwise it’s a resounding ‘No!’.

“It was absolutely that boat and how she was set up that enabled it to be possible. Someone said almost as a criticism, ‘lt was just the boat that got her there.’ But I agree with them.

“The S&S 34 is just such a gorgeous little boat. There’s nothing quite like the way that they sail beautifully upwind in a bit of a blow.”

Watch True Spirit on Netflix
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Golden Globe skipper Tapio Lehtinen has been rescued by fellow solo competitor Kirsten Neuschäfer after Lehtinen’s boat sank and he spent over 24 hours adrift in the southern Indian Ocean.

Lehtinen and Neuschäfer were both racing in the ‘retro’ single-handed non-stop around the world Golden Globe Race, in 2nd and 3rd place respectively.

At 0800 this morning, race HQ confirmed that Neuschäfer had successfully rescued Lehtinen from his life raft, and “after a glass of rum, transferred him aboard the Bulk Carrier DARYA GAYATRI.”

Lehtinen was 2nd in the 2022 Golden Globe Race when his yacht Asteria sank. Photo: GGR/Etienne Messikommer

Golden Globe rescue

Yesterday, at 0654 (UTC), Lehtinen manually activated his Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) while some 450 miles south east of Port Elizabeth in South Africa.

At 0922 UTC Lehtinen activated the emergency YB3 satellite tracking and texting device which is part of the grab bag, and at 1002 UTC manually acknowledged the message sent by the GGR Crisis Team.

In communication with organisers via the YB3, he reported that his Gaia 36 Asteria had rapidly sank, stern first, and that he was in the liferaft, and was wearing a survival suit.

At 1105 he messaged: “I GAVE ASTERIA A LAST SALUTE STANDING IN THE RAFT AS SHE WENT DOWN”

Weather conditions at the time were 15-20 knot winds with 3-4m waves.

Initial reports from the Golden Globe race organisers made clear the enormity of the rescue, and also explaining that without his usual glasses, the 64-year-old Finnish sailor was struggling to read and send messages.

Race organisers also raised the alarm with fellow competitors. Initially 4th-placed sailor Abhilash Tomy, who was himself rescued mid-ocean during the 2018 race, turned back towards Lehtinen’s position. Tomy was approx 170 miles south-west of Asteria’s last known position. Third-placed Kirsten Neuschafer was closer, around 105 miles south-west of Lehtinen’s last known position, but race HQ could not initially make contact with the solo skipper.

MRCC Cape Town also established communication with the bulk carrier DARYA GAYATRI which diverted to assist. The vessel was 250 nm NW from Lehtinen’s position and had an initial ETA of today (November 19) at 1200 UTC.

Later yesterday morning, Golden Globe Race HQ made contact with Neuschäfer, who diverted her yacht Minnehaha to Lehtinen, while Tomy was stood down and resumed racing.

Asteria had a sleek cuddy added, originally designed for racing powerboats to withstand a capsize at 100 knots. Photo: Rupert Holmes

24 hours in a liferaft

Remarkably, Lehtinen then proceeded to send live updates from the liferaft (reported via the Golden Globe Race news feed) as he waited 24 hours for rescue.

At 2:47 PM he sent: “BACK2FAM&YEAM,I,(JNGOODHANDS,RGDS2K,WLDHAVE PRFRRDMINNEHAHA))

[Interpretation: Love Back to Family & Team, I’m in good hands, regards to Kirsten, Would have preferred Minnehaha]

At 4:24 PM he messaged: “ADMIRIMG SUMSET&BIRDS”

At 6:12 PM he attempted to get some rest, messaging: “:HITTING THERMAL SACK,IT,S A LUXURY RAFT 4 1 ERSON:)

That was shortly followed at 6:44 PM by “2ALBATROSSES KISSING IN THE LEE OF THE RAFT!”

Early this morning (02:00hrs) he reported: “A PIECEFUL NIGHT UNDER THE STARS, HAVE SLEPT LIKE IN CRADLE”

03:13 ”YOU CAN:T GET MUCH CLOSER 2 THE OCEAN, I LOVE IT, BUT THIS IS C”
03:18 ”CLOSR ENOUGH, THMX 4 LOOKING AFTER ME”

He continued updating on the wildlife he saw, writing at 04:17 “A JUVBMILE WANDERING A CAME2AAY HI,A CPL STEPS&FLAPS&OFF HE WENT GLIDIN, THEIR FLIGHT IS ADDICTIVLY SEAUTIFULL SSE F4. CUMULUS”

Then, at 05:09, came the messages he had made contact with Neuschäfer: ”JST SPOKE W HER”.
05:22 “I D HER”

At 0639 Neuschäfer confirmed that she had spoken to Lehtinen via VHF, and was on a direct course to the liferaft’s position. Conditions were fair, F4 SSE and 3m waves.

An hour and a half later, race HQ confirmed that Neuschäfer had successfully rescued Lehtinen from his life raft, and “after a glass of rum, transferred him aboard the Bulk Carrier DARYA GAYATRI.”

Lehtinen was reported to be well, and ‘on good form’. In a statement, organisers said: “GGR wishes to thank the MRCC Cape Town, Capt. Naveen Kumar Mehrotra and the crew of the DARYA GAYATRI for the exemplary coordination of Tapio’s rescue.”

Neuschafer on her Cape George 36 cutter, Minnehaha, was first to reach Lehtinen in the lifefraft. Photo: GGR

Experienced competitors

Both Lehtinen and Neuschäfer are exceptionally experienced sailors. Lehtinen was the only skipper returning to compete in the second running of the ‘retro’ Golden Globe Race in the same boat that he sailed in 2018.

Asteria was the oldest boat in the fleet, but lovingly restored and highly reliable. The Gaia 36 is an S&S design from 1965 which Lehtinen successfully completed the circumnavigation in in 2018/19, finishing 5th, despite massive barnacle growth that slowed his boat to a crawl.

The boat had been extensively refit before the 2018 race especially for the demands of the non-stop round the world course, including laminated kevlar panels for impact protection.

Besides three watertight bulkheads and foam buoyancy in the bow, Lehtinen added an additional pair of watertight bulkheads aft, which were not specified in the safety requirements of the race rules but he built in for added security. The first was just forward of the rudder tube, the second a few feet further forward. All through-hull fittings were position between the two to try and eliminate the risk of a failed skin fitting flooding the boat.

Lehtinen also narrowed the original cockpit well of Asteria, so it snugly fit the liferaft, and lessened the volume of water that the cockpit would be flooded by in waves.

See our sister title Yachting Monthly’s tour of the boat

Lehtinen’s extensive experience includes competing in the 1981/82 Whitbread Round the World Race, the Azores and Back Race (AZAB), and other offshores. He has also been preparing a crewed entry in the Ocean Globe Race, which celebrates the 50th anniversary of the Whitbread Round the World Race.

Kirsten Neuschäfer sailing in the prologue race in Gijon ahead of the 2022 Golden Globe Race start. Credit: GGR

Neuschäfer is a South African sailor who has sailed extensively in high latitudes, including the Antarctic Peninsula with Skip Novak’s Pelagic Expeditions. She is among the Golden Globe Race skippers with the most Southern Ocean experience.

Her Cape George 36 cutter, Minnehaha is one of the fastest boats in the fleet, and was thoroughly refit in Prince Edward Island, off Nova Scotia, in 2020/21. Pre-start, Neuschafer then sailed Minnehaha solo from Newfoundland to South Africa, then up to France, giving her invaluable sea miles to test reliability.

Neuschäfer has now resumed racing.

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With 138 single-handed boats on the line, the 2022 Route du Rhum start was always going to be spectacular. 

Three days later than originally scheduled, thanks to a severe depression and sea state forecast for the North Atlantic, the 2022 Route du Rhum started today in a near-perfect south-westerly of 11-15 knots with sunshine.

All 138 entries – from the giant 100ft Ultimes to the smallest 40-footers – set off upwind from the same line, the largest multihulls furthest out to sea, the huge 38-boat fleet of IMOCAs looking for clean air in the middle, while the 55 Classe 40s ducked and dived around each other at the inner marker as if they were about to start a local club race, not a transatlantic against a multi-million Euro fleet.

Photos: Close racing for the Ultimes from the start of the 2022 Route du Rhum. Photos: Philpre Arnaud/Route du Rhum

Despite the fact that the race is 3,542 nautical miles to Guadeloupe, there were several boats called OCS at the startline, including the overall leader, Charles Caudrelier on the Gitana Ultime (Maxi Edmond de Rothschild). The standard time penalty is four hours.

There was an incident early in the Ocean 50 class, when British skipper Sam Goodchild, the 32-year-old skipper of Leyton, was injured in the pre-start and had to be evacuated ashore to hospital in Saint Malo. He was reported to have injuries to his arms and face.

A statement from the team this evening said: “Whilst trimming the sails of his Ocean Fifty Leyton during the start phase Sam Goodchild suffered injuries to his arms and face. A technical problem caused the pedestal winch to backwind and he was hit hard by the handles. He was evacuated from the boat and taken to hospital by doctors. He was able to see his family. It is with deep sadness that he is forced to abandon the Route du Rhum-Destination Guadeloupe.”

Ocean 50 skipper Sam Goodchid has had to retire from the Route du Rhum following an injury. Photo: Philpre Arnaud/Route du Rhum

Two IMOCAs have also returned to port after being involved in a port-starboard collision approaching the Cape Fréhel buoy, around three hours after the Route du Rhum start. Ollie Heer (Oliver Heer Ocean Racing) and Kojiro Shiraisihi (DMG MORI Global One) both suffered damage, the most obvious being damage to Heer’s bowsprit and pulpit whilst DMG MORI has damage to the starboard side which is being assessed tonight. Both teams will be reviewing to see if it’s possible to repair and restart.

Heer explained: “I am gutted to say the least. It was a port-starboard incident at the Cape Fréhel gate. I was on starboard and Koji on port. I decided that even though I would have made it through the gate, I decided to hitch closer inland to get out of the tide.

“I tacked over and was a couple of minutes into the tack and was about to pull the windward daggerboard up and there was a massive bang. I was thrown into the pit. I was convinced he had seen me. But now there is huge disappointment and frustration, we have worked hard to get here. 

“But we have until Saturday to get it repaired. We are optimistic. The biggest damage is the bowsprit, the crash box took most of the impact and we have a minor hole in the port side. We have a lot of people supporting us. I have Pete Hobson, who was the designer of Alex [Thomson’s] Hugo Boss, on the way here on the ferry. And we will try everything to get going again. We are optimistic.” 

On the dock Koji apologised, saying, “We were on the same tack near the mark and he tacked and I did not see him coming. Then the buoy was really close and I could not avoid him. The damage is really big but at the moment I am really glad Ollie is fit and healthy.”

Route du Rhum early leaders

The early overall leader was Charles Caudrelier on the Maxi Edmond de Rothschild in the Ultime class, chased hard by Armel Le Cléach on Banque Populaire XI.

In the 38-strong IMOCA fleet Charlie Dalin on Apivia was first past the first rounding mark of Cape Fréhel. Going into the first night, his nearest rivals were Kevin Escoffier on the new Holcim-PRB, and long-term rival Thomas Ruyant on LinkedOut, who had both taken an inshore line along the Breton coast.

Although the fleet will avoid the most severe weather (50 knot gusts and 6-7m sea state) forecast, thanks to the start postponement, that same front has left some tricky conditions for the skippers to contend with, and are likely to face wave heights of up to 4.5m as they exit the English Channel tonight.

Close racing for the largest fleet, the Class 40s, from the outset. Philpre Arnaud/Route du Rhum

The first major decision will come overnight, as skippers have to decide whether to sail to the North or South of the Traffic Separation Scheme off Ushant. Caudrelier looks to be the first to have tacked to the south-east of it, and was sailing at 30+ knots this evening. 

A front stretching from the west of Scotland to the Azores is currently generating stronger winds to its east, though that is likely to also generate heavier seas. An alternative route will be to cross the Bay of Biscay towards La Coruna, although this option will involve an additional number of tacks upwind. 

Follow the Route du Rhum 

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French skipper Damien Guillou, one of the pre-race favourites in this year’s solo Golden Globe Race, is facing his second major windvane breakage, which will require significant mid-ocean repairs if he is to remain in contention in the race.

Damien Guillou, an extremely experienced offshore racer and IMOCA boat captain, is racing a Rustler 36 with sponsorship from PRB. Given his race background and extremely well-prepared boat, Guillou was expected to be among the front runners in this solo non-stop ‘retro’ around the world race. However, he had to return to port just four days after the start to fix the mount for his Hydrovane self steering system.

The starboard screw/axle windvane attachment to the transom of his Rustler 36 had broken while sailing in 30 knots headwinds and heavy seas in the Bay of Biscay in the opening stages of the race.

‘I was going upwind close-hauled in strong headwinds and heavy seas, which is not a point of sail where the windvane is under strong pressure,” Guillou explained at the time. “Once this [lower starboard] screw broke, and we lost one of the three fittings, the rudder acted as a lever. I tried to use lines to stabilise the system and fit a new axis, to no avail in the wind conditions and sea state of that night.”

After returning to port, and fixing the axle – in part with the help of Vendée Globe legendary skipper and long-time PRB sailor Vincent Riou – Guillou restarted, six days and some 700 miles behind the fleet.

Guillou setting off to restart the Golden Globe Race after making repairs to his the bracket for his wind vane after suffering damage in Biscay. Photo: GGR

Guillou does a ‘Desjoyeaux’

Guillou rapidly made up the miles, and was back in touch with the main pack by the Canaries. His race called to mind that of Michel Desjoyeaux’s 2008-09 Vendée Globe, who was among four skippers forced back to Les Sables d’Olonne by damage to his Foncia in the opening days of the race, but then restarted. Desjoyeaux then relentlessly climbed back up through the fleet, taking the lead before Christmas, and going on to win overall. Desjoyeaux himself noted Guillou’s achievement, tweeting: “He is in the process of doing a “Desjoyeaux”, only better. If I may [say so]!”

Guillou was up to 4th place yesterday as the front-runners chased hard in the South Atlantic. Race leader Simon Curwen was approaching the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, some 2,000 miles to the east. The fleet has been contending with confused seas of  4m plus, with winds averaging 15-20 knots but gusting 30-40.

Guillou called race control yesterday to report that the stainless steel rudder shaft of his wind vane had broken at the top of the rudder. The rudder was secured by a safety line so was not lost, but Guillou has no functioning self-steering, although overnight he was still maintaining boat speeds of 6+ knots.

He has a complete spare rudder shaft onboard PRB. In order to effect the repair, he will need to remove the main transmission gear from the self-steering unit, take the broken shaft out and then slide a new shaft in before replacing the main gear. He will also have to replace the rudder mid-ocean, which will require him to go over the side of the boat to get into the water.

Guillou told race control that he can make the repair, but needs calmer conditions to do so. A high pressure system is currently to the south-east of the leaders, or an alternative option may be to head for the shelter of Tristan da Cunha. He may not lose too many miles, as a forecast northerly windshift could potentially give Gillou a more direct route to Cape Town.

Curwen leads Golden Globe

British skipper Simon Curwen on Clara at the start of the Golden Globe Race. Photo by Sebastien SALOM-GOMIS / AFP via Getty Images.

Meanwhile the overall leader Simon Curwen’s position looks secure, nearly 500 miles ahead of Guillou, and well positioned to hook into the Southern Ocean westerlies. However, he too has been dealing with challenging maintenance issues, which at one stage saw him stuck up the mast of his Biscay 36 Clara.

After breaking his genoa halyard early in the Southern Ocean, Curwen sought shelter off Trinidade island, a compulsory passing mark of the course (but not a film drop ‘stop’). He climbed the mast to try and repair the halyard, to no avail, and had to detach himself from his safety harness and climb down after it became damaged.

‘There was not enough shelter behind a small little island so I hove-to as there was no chance of anchoring. I was up the mast for a couple of hours, but the trouble was I was just getting bashed into the mast. I got to the top [of the mast] and most of the way back down again, but my bosun’s chair started falling apart and I fell partially out of it and I had to cut myself free and free climb down.

“I lost my mousing line, which I may be able to recover. At the moment, I am not much better off than I was,’ Curwen told organiser Don McInytre during a weekly satphone call. He is now hoping to make repairs in the shelter of Cape Town’s harbour at the next ‘film drop’ (where skippers are met at a passing mark for media interviews etc but do not go ashore).

Irish Skipper Pat Lawless has had a halyard breakage in the South Atlantic. Photo: GGR / Nora Havel

Other skippers have also suffered damage after six weeks of racing: Irish skipper Pat Lawless has had his Solent halyard snap, Ertan Beskardes cannot store power in his batteries after manage a significant electrical failure onboard, including a small fire onboard; Abhilash Tomy reported a gas leak, which is now repaired; and Elliott Smith is suffering major deck/hull leaks from starboard on this long, windy port tack to Trinidade.

Several skippers have already reported issues with barnacles, which were the bane of many during the last edition of this relatively slow around the world race.

Follow the race tracker live at GoldenGlobeRace.com and watch our sister title Yachting Monthly’s boat tours on YouTube

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A flurry of competitors in the Sevenstar Round Britain and Ireland Race crossed the finish line in Cowes today after an intense race which saw many boats take a full two weeks in order to complete the course.

Despite the light airs forecast, the 1,800-mile race took even longer to complete than predicted for many, with some boats having run very low on food and non-emergency water by the time they finally crossed the line.

Ten teams finished the race today, with the very relieved crews enjoying an impromptu dock party on Trinity Landing was followed by a welcome meal at the RORC Clubhouse in Cowes.

Among them were Richard Palmer, sailing with Yachting World regular contributor and boat tester Rupert Holmes on the JPK1010 Jangada, who are currently leading as 1st IRC overall, having finished this morning with an elapsed time of 14d 22h. They are also 1st IRC 3 boat and 1st double-handed team.

Though five boats are still racing none can realistically better the IRC corrected time scored by JPK 1010 Jangada, so the Royal Ocean Racing Club has declared Jangada the overall winner of the 2022 Sevenstar Round Britain & Ireland Race.

Richard Palmer’s JPK 1010 Jangada, racing Two-Handed with Rupert Holmes is the overall winner of the 2022 Sevenstar Round Britain & Ireland Race Photo: James Tomlinson/RORC

Round Britain and Ireland Race winners

The overall win was decided by the thinnest of margins, as after 15 days of racing, Jangada won overall on IRC corrected time by just seven minutes and nine seconds. Rob Craigie’s Sun Fast 3600 Bellino, racing two-handed with Deb Fish was 2nd.

In percentage terms, RORC calculates that Jangada won by just 0.03% of the time taken to complete a race of 1,805 nautical miles.

Sam White and Sam North racing JPK 1080 Mzungu! are 3rd overall, with all three top teams racing in IRC Two-Handed.

“Just a full-on race, absolutely no let-up; snakes and ladders all the way. The pressure was always on. Mentally this race was totally exhausting, but great fun with really close competition,” explained Jangada’s Palmer.

“The final 12 hours was incredible. As soon as Bellino crossed the line the clock started ticking and we had a goal to aim for. Our routing programme predicted we could reach that goal with two minutes to spare. I woke Rupert up and told him it was game on and we went for it.”

“This race really is the pinnacle of offshore racing because it offers absolutely everything; close racing on the IRC ratings and the race track has plenty of headlands and tidal gates, all with weather systems that are constantly changing. This race just throws everything at you and it tests you to the limits,” continued Palmer.

Medallia at the start of the 2022 Sevenstar Round Britain & Ireland Race © Paul Wyeth/RORC

Pip takes line honours

First to finish was Pip Hare on Medallia, this time sailing her IMOCA with a crew of five. Hare and team completed the circumnavigation in 10d 13h, with even the foiling 60-footer languishing at sub-3 knots at times as a high pressure system dominated the first portion of the race.

Medallia took over seven days to get to Muckle Flugga, at the northern turning point of the course, from the start on the Isle of Wight.

“It is not often I go into a race wanting to take line honours, but that really was a goal, so we are very happy,” commented Pip Hare. “We concentrated on trying to extend from the other boats in the race and get around the course as quickly as possible. I am really stoked to get line honours in a race around Britain and Ireland.”

“In the Vendée Globe it is a big deal to race around Cape Horn, but the Shetland Islands is way further north than Cape Horn is south. I’m very, very proud to have my name against line honours in this edition of the Sevenstar Round Britain and Ireland Race. I have full admiration for everyone out there; this is a tough race for all of us.”

Stronger breezes for the second week saw Medallia cover the eastern return leg in just over three days, and as Hare was pulling back into Cowes, competitors at the back of the fleet were rounding Muckle Flugga in near gale conditions.

Not just for lightweight flyers – Marie Tabarly’s 73ft, 34-ton ketch Pen Duick VI was the winner of IRC 1 Photo: James Tomlinson/RORC

Class 40s round Britain

Next to finish was James McHugh’s Tquila, the first Class 40, sailing with a highly experienced crew of Brian Thompson and Alister Richardson.

“It was a fantastic race but very long,” commented McHugh after the finish.

“As we were passing Galway where my parents are from, a few boats had retired and the thought did cross my mind, but we carried on! It was a real change to see the scow bow boats pull out as it was interesting to match up against them to see how we would go against them. 

“This is only my third Class40 race […] and Brian and Richard have been putting me through my paces to get up to speed. They are great sailors, really intuitive. It has been wonderful to do this race with them and work as a team.

“For me going around the Shetlands was something special; it is an incredible landscape.”

Former Vendée Globe racer Mike Golding was also in the Class 40 fleet, racing on Greg Leonard’s Kite (USA). “This was great fun to do, if rather long,” Golding said afterwards.

“We always saw that it was going to be a slow race but I don’t think any of us expected it to be quite that slow. Everything was very well prepared on the boat, we didn’t run out of anything. Greg is really organised and we even had enough water – we did economise when we saw the writing on the wall but, to be honest, we’ve got another two days left.”

Rising talent

“I love the Class40, it’s a fantastic class,” added Golding. “The boats actually feel like the first Open 60s; they feel very powerful and they are quick. They sail so beautifully, as a class I really like them.

“It’s interesting sailing on different boats and particularly the scows, which I know a lot of sailors don’t like, but don’t knock it until you’ve tried it because they are rather good. Kite isn’t particularly scow-ish but it is a powerful boat.”

“Hannes Leonard (Greg’s son) is really the hidden star in all this. Unbelievable. It’s a very long race for us, but for an 18-year old to have maintained the endurance and stamina and staying power to do a race like that is quite something.

“Hannes is a fantastic sailor and a credit to his Dad and his family. I wish I was that good at his age.

“These long races do take a lot of preparation and for Greg, this is part of his prep for the Route de Rhum (solo from Saint Malo to Guadeloupe in November) and that’s quite a commitment. But RORC’s Sevenstar Round Britain and Ireland Race is definitely accessible and it is a matter of biting the bullet and going out there and giving it a go.

“Understandably some of the competitors have had to retire because of time constraints, but most have stuck with it so that’s a testimony to all the people out there.”

Double-anded competitors Deb Fish (Bellino), Maggie Adamson (Tigris), Shirley Robertson (Rockit), Ellie Driver (Chilli Pepper) and Dee Caffari (Rockit) Photo: James Tomlinson/RORC

Staying power

Of the 23 boat fleet, just four were still racing this evening, with 11 finishers. 

The final boats still racing include Charlene Howard on her Sun Odyssey 45 AJ Wanderlust. Howard commented as she rounded Muckle Flugga:  “This has been a slow race so far but it is not mentally tough if you flip your thought progress. 

“AJ Wanderlust and her crew (Robert Drummond) love sailing, so the longest on the water wins, right? We just try to enjoy all the magic of nature in its various moods. AJ Wanderlust does not come to start races, she comes to finish them!”

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We all know how French solo skippers get so darn good. They move from youth sailing to Mini Transat and Figaro classes, where they drill for years. Then the lucky few step up into IMOCA 60 and test themselves against each other at training camps like Port la Foret, refining their single-handed skills further and further. It’s a production line of talent that no other nation can compete with.

But it’s not the only way – even in France. Kevin Escoffier took another route, and the career he has built is all the more impressive for it.

Escoffier, now 42, is full throttle on his second Vendée Globe campaign for the 2024 race, but he only did his first solo IMOCA race in July 2020, racing in the Vendée Arctique. Four months later he set off on the pinnacle of single-handed competition, around the world non-stop.

Escoffier’s talents were well proven, but he honed his craft as an engineer and his reputation as one of the best ocean racing crew in the world before taking on the challenge of racing solo at the age of 40.

Training on his previous PRB ahead of the 2020 Vendée Globe. Photo: Yann Riou/polaRYSE

Breton youth

That the young Kevin Escoffier did not leap straight into the world of short-handed racing is even more surprising given he was immersed in it from a childhood in Brittany. His father Franck-Yves was passionate about sailing, and moved the family from Paris to St Malo when Kevin and his two brothers were boys in order to be by the sea. Kevin quickly fell in love with the sport (along with rugby, an enduring passion), though even then he opted to crew rather than race solo in classes like the Optimist.

Family holidays were spent cruising, and his father went on to compete in the Figaro and short-handed races like the Route du Rhum, teenage Kevin and his brothers earning pocket money by diving to scrub hulls before the start.

After school, Escoffier studied engineering for three years in Paris, then Montreal for another two and finished his studies in Maryland, USA, specialising in composite structures. The extended studies reflect an intellectual rigour which has been a career constant.

Back in France, he took an internship with Michel Desjoyeaux at Mer Agitée. It was a dream opportunity – working on Orma 60s and the build of two boats in particular that would go on to play a huge role in his career: the Multi 50 Crêpes Whaou II and Vincent Riou’s IMOCA PRB.

While in his sailing Escoffier seems fearless, his decision to build a solid engineering career reflects a degree of cautious realism. He explains: “I’m quite a safe guy, it meant that it was also a job. If you study engineering, you can do whatever you want after. I knew that I wanted to sail, and I knew that if I was an engineer, I wanted to apply that on sailing boats.

“You can see plenty of people who are very good at sailing but at 35, 40 are not lucky enough to have a sponsor. It’s not like soccer, it’s not a sport where you can earn enough money from 20 to 35 to then say, ‘I’m done.’ You have to think about the long term.”

Celebrating winning the TJV with his father in 2005. Photo: Reuters/Alamy

That balance of passion and pragmatism was learnt from his father, who built a fishing business in order to be able to go racing. “For my father the start is a love of the sea. He also loves competition, for sure, but his way of thinking was how to earn a living built around the sea.”

Multi-talented

In 2005 Kevin and his father raced Crêpes Whaou II in the double-handed Transat Jacques Vabre to Brazil, and won. Shortly after, aged just 26, he was offered a role as head of the design office for Banque Populaire on one of the most ambitious builds ever: the 130ft (40m) VPLP-designed maxi trimaran Banque Populaire V.

“They told me, ‘you won’t be sailing’. And I didn’t care. I would be doing one of the best boats ever built. But since I was physically strong, and I knew the boat perfectly from the daggerboard to the top of the mast, they said, ‘Okay, come on the boat just to double check some things’.

“From then on I was pushing, pushing, and pushing. I’d done all the sailing days – every single day that boat was on the water I’d been on board. So that’s how I did the Jules Verne. I was the youngest on board, I was 30 years old sailing around the world.”

Escoffier was part of the 14-strong team led by Loïck Peyron which smashed the fully crewed round the world record in 2011/12, taking nearly three days off the previous time. From beginning his career with Michel Desjoyeaux to racing with the legendary Peyron, Escoffier learnt from the best.

A young Kevin (far left) having just broken the Jules Verne Trophy round the world record with Loïck Peyron on Banque Populaire V. Photo: Reuters/Alamy

“I’ve been very lucky. Every time I’ve been sailing, I was sailing on top sailing boats with top people, on top budget projects. For me it was my goal – to be part of very interesting projects that are competitive,” he says.

Next, he joined the Dongfeng Volvo Ocean Race team, sailing with Charles Caudrelier in two editions of the fully crewed round the world race.

I went aboard the Dongfeng V065 before the first race, and the striking thing about Kevin was that you never quite knew where to look for him. One minute he would be on the bow, the next tending to the keel, another beside the helmsman. By all accounts, he kept that up for two round the world races, often going up the mast, over the side to clean the rudders, or into the bowels of the boat to make repairs. He is also a strong trimmer and driver.

“I love doing the Volvo,” he says. “Especially fully crewed – for me, the new Ocean Race is not quite the same because there are less people, so you’re using autopilot.

On the bow of Dongfeng in the Volvo Ocean Race. Photo: Yann Riou/Dongfeng/Volvo Ocean Race

“I love to be at the helm of the boat; some of my best souvenirs are the North Atlantic record, which we still hold on Banque Populaire, 3d 15h, and the 24 hours record we set of 908 miles in the south. On the Volvo, when you’re getting smashed by the waves, you can see the squall to windward, the tension of being at the helm, to feel everything and trim the boat as you want, I love it.”

Article continues below…

Extraordinary boats: the new radical PRB IMOCA 60

As if the new PRB IMOCA 60 were not eye-catching enough, the story behind it is truly remarkable. The reason…

Vendée Globe rescue: Kevin Escoffier on his sinking and recovery

“I AM SINKING. THIS IS NOT A JOKE. MAYDAY” At 1345 (UTC) on Monday 30 November, on a grey and…

It was only after the second, victorious Volvo Ocean Race that Escoffier considered going solo. “After having gone around the world on a multihull, and round the world with the Volvo monohull fully crewed at 38 years old, I asked myself: ‘Okay, today am I able to do single-handed?’ And just when I had this question in my head, Vincent Riou phoned me.”

Going solo

The reasons Escoffier had not considered single-handed racing before are various. Partly, he was just too busy, working back-to-back on overlapping projects as his career went stellar. It’s also easy to see why his personality makes him such a great asset in a full crew; he’s warm, convivial, attentive to those around him, and excellent company – not traits universally shared by solo sailors.

His engineering side enjoys the challenge of pushing a tool to its limits. “What I like in full crew sailing is to be able to use the boat to 100% of its capacity. For me single-handed racing was not the same,” he explains.

With Armel le Cléac’h on the Ultime Maxi Banque Populaire XI. Photo: Fred Tanneau/Getty

“There’s another thing; sometimes single-handed racing is part of a big ego. I don’t care at all about that. If I could, I’d be sailing without talking about me and PRB.”

Most tellingly however, he adds: “Maybe I did not trust myself enough at the beginning.”

But when Vincent Riou offered Escoffier the keys to the PRB campaign, there was no question of turning it down. That PRB was a 2010 Verdier-VPLP designed IMOCA, with foils retrofitted. Escoffier poured all his engineering knowledge into rigorously preparing a boat that, for the first time, he would skipper around the world, and alone.

“I knew this boat,” he recalls, “I knew it was light. I knew what I needed to work on. It was a very good boat for me to start single-handed racing in, with a lot of performance but easy, since light is easy. I put 200 kilos of carbon in the boat to be sure not to break anything. That was my job. The first thing I designed when I took on this project was a new keel ram structure. I designed it on the computer, I sent the drawing to the machine guy. At no time had I made a choice between performance and reliability. I always chose reliability.”

But on Monday 30 November, 2020, three weeks into Escoffier’s Vendée Globe, the boat suddenly and catastrophically broke up. He had time only to send a three line Whatsapp message:

“I AM SINKING. THIS IS NOT A JOKE. MAYDAY”

Escoffier swimming to transfer to a French naval frigate from Le Cam’s IMOCA after his dramatic rescue in the 2020 Vendée Globe. Photo: Marine Nationale/Défense

Mental fortitude

What followed is one of the most remarkable tales of survival the Vendée Globe has ever witnessed. The bow of PRB ripped off. “The stern of the boat was underwater and the bow was pointing skyward. You’ve seen images of shipwrecks? It was like that, but worse,” he recalled.

He had time only to don a survival suit, snatch a single grab bag and launch the liferaft as PRB sank beneath him. It was the start of an ordeal which saw him drifting in a raft, without even a handheld VHF, for over 11 hours.

Four skippers were diverted to search for him, frantically criss-crossing the south Atlantic through the night in 22-25 knot winds. Finally Jean Le Cam, who had himself been rescued by Vincent Riou after capsizing in the 2008 Vendée, found Escoffier’s liferaft and plucked him from the sea.

Escoffier and his Vendée Globe rescuer Jean le Cam. Photo: Jean-Francois Monier/Getty

PRB sank without trace, leaving Escoffier with no answers as to why it had failed so dramatically. The fact that he’d prepared the boat so thoroughly, he says, made it easier to come to terms with its loss – and to contemplate entering the Vendée again.

“Since I think I had done everything right, I’m not the reason why it broke, so there is no reason why to stop. My wife would say that I don’t usually think like everybody else, but for me, knowing that helped me to recover.

“While I was with Jean, I had already recovered from the danger. For my family; my wife, my brothers, my father, my mother, my kids, they experienced trauma. I hadn’t because when you are in this situation, you need and must imagine the best [outcome] so that you’re able to give all your energy to get it. When you’re on land, you are a spectator, you think the worst. My wife was already thinking how to tell the kids that I will not come back. That is a trauma, but [it was] not for me.

“I was very lucky as well that I was with Jean, and we discussed it because he has been in the same situation. After 36 hours of being on the boat with Jean, I was already thinking how to design my next boat.”

Escoffier reunited with his family at a 2017/18 Volvo Ocean Race stopover. Photo: Jesus Renedo/Volvo AB

Escoffier is not, however, going back to the Vendée with his brand new PRB IMOCA 60 to lay old demons to rest. He wants to race, to win. When PRB broke up he was lying 3rd, a point he is justly proud of. “I want to show that I will fight competitively again. I’m not coming only to finish.

“Obviously I want to finish, but not at all costs. I won’t slow down just to finish. If you want to sail around the world alone, you can do that cruising.”

Similarly, he rejected well-meaning suggestions he race double-handed with Jean Le Cam. “He’s a great guy, a great sailor, but you don’t want to repeat the story.”

For Escoffier, every sailor he sails with has something new he can absorb. “I’ve been sailing with Pascal Bidegorry, Loïck Peyron, Vincent Riou, Michel Desjoyeaux. That’s the top of the top. And I’ve learnt they are definitely not all sailing in the same way. Pascal is always – vroom! – a very flat sail, trying to go fast. Loïck Peyron sails very twisted and smooth. Armel le Cléac’h, I love the way he is sailing. Always the average speed, never the fastest, never the slowest.

“In sailing you’re able to get to the same place in lots of different ways.”

Since this interview, Escoffier has announced he will also compete in The Ocean Race in his IMOCA 60, now Holcim-PRM. He’s also a brand ambassador for North Sails Performance clothing.

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Solo sailing may seem daunting at first, but if you regularly sail with a novice crew, you’re probably already going through the motions of a solo sailor without even knowing it.

The toughest part of managing a boat alone is being able to understand the components of each task that need to be carried out and what order to do them in. If you explain this regularly to a crew, then you’re halfway there. Break the task down in the same way, but do all the stages in order yourself.

That said, heading out on your own for the first time should not be taken lightly, so here are my tips for how to prepare your boat and your confidence to ensure you have a positive experience solo sailing.

Play it safe

Choose a passage that plays to your strengths. You are already testing yourself by being alone so there is no point in adding extra stress by trying things that are challenging even when fully crewed. Choose an area you know well to avoid tricky navigation, if sailing overnight avoid making landfall till the dawn, keep manoeuvres simple – reduce sail early and try not to make too many tacks or gybes.

Being prepared: Damien Guillou training solo under spinnaker with a snuffer on his Rustler 36 PRB ahead of the 2022 Golden Globe Race. Photo: Yann Riou/polaRYSE/PRB

If using a spinnaker solo for the first time set a wind limit, under which you know you can wrestle the thing down and, unless you have practised it solo already, snuff or furl your kite to gybe. Believe me, trying to unwrap a spinnaker alone is a horrifying experience and one for later on in your solo career.

Use sails in a configuration you are confident with sailing double-handed or fully crewed, don’t push laylines to the limit and, regardless of rules of the road, steer clear of close-quarters encounters with other vessels.

When leaving or entering marinas, ask the marina staff to come and help catch or let go lines – it’s in their interest too for you to arrive and leave safely. Set yourself realistic time frames to get in and out of the harbour at each end, and don’t put yourself under any unnecessary time pressures.

Do nothing?

One of the most common mistakes I see in novice short-handed sailors is the need to always be actively doing something. Giving yourself time to think and plan is crucial to managing situations well and one thing you need to develop is your spatial awareness and sense of time and distance. For this, I cannot recommend enough letting the boat sail itself under pilot and sitting with your head outside, connecting with your environment, observing wind, traffic, the speed at which you are moving and thinking ahead.

Make sure you’re always positioned to give maximum room to leeward even when motoring. Learn how to heave-to in your boat; this is not always easy to achieve with more modern hull shapes, but at the very least you should be able to tack and get into a configuration which considerably slows your rate of travel and where, with the correct amount of helm, the boat will remain stable. This is a great go-to position if you don’t want to cover a lot of ground while finding time to think, or make a cup of tea while below.

Think about how lines can be led to the helm position for easier sail-handling. Photo: Pip Hare

When preparing to enter a harbour, once the sails are down it’s fine to let your boat lie ahull with the engine in neutral while you fix lines and fenders if you have sufficient leeward room. This is a lot less stressful than motoring into a river or harbour, having to watch your course and setting up mooring tackle at the same time.

Put the bow down

You’ll very quickly learn that the best way to take the heat out of a situation is to turn downwind, reducing the apparent wind across the deck, your boat speed and your heel angle. Situations that seem quite punchy will be a lot more manageable when heading downwind at a true wind angle of 150°-160°. This again highlights the importance of leaving room to leeward whenever possible.

To further reduce speed downwind for more thinking time, over-sheet the main – but if you choose to do this, make sure your pilot is able to steer a steady low course, without risk of gybing or rounding up. Any manoeuvres with spinnakers must be done at a low true wind angle or the sails will simply be ripped out of your hands.

Use your solo sailing tech

It has never been easier to get set up for solo sailing. There is a lot of technology out there to support and give confidence to those sailing alone. Before taking your first solo steps, make sure you have got to grips with what you have and are able to use it to the fullest advantage.

Whil hand-steering is necessary sometimes, you should also buy a remote control for the autopilot to make life easier for yourself.

Your autopilot should be set up to steer a smooth course and make sure you know which mode to match conditions. Most modern instruments, as well as navigation software, have built-in alarms which can alert you to changing conditions. These include: depth, wind speed, wind direction, cross track error, waypoint arrival, as well as AIS and radar proximity alarms.

The latest displays include conditional formatting, which changes the colour of a display once it reaches certain parameters. When your attention is pulled in a million different directions it’s important to make sure your tech will alert you before a situation becomes difficult to manage. Any time reading manuals is time well spent. If using different devices make sure you know what each different alarm sounds like and that the volume can be heard from the cockpit. You may need to consider investing in a cockpit speaker for additional volume.

Set up before leaving

While your boat is tied up and secure there is a great opportunity to get ahead of the curve by setting everything up that the wind will allow. If you are leaving the dock unassisted look carefully at tide and wind, work out which dock lines can be completely removed and how many fenders you can take off comfortably. Then give yourself time to put these things away in their proper places.

If conditions allow, set up sails on the dock, plug in headsails, well furled Code 0s can be hoisted, sheets properly run, lines loaded onto winches and, in lighter airs, the head of the main can be hoisted to clear lazy jacks if it will not affect handling under power adversely. Test both the engine gears and the autopilot while you’re on the dock.

To check the pilot engage first in compass mode to hear the clutch engage and see if the helm stays in the middle. Then check port and starboard commands which is best done in rudder angle or NFU mode.

Make sure screens are set to show the data that you’ll need to see and at a size which can be viewed from the helming position. Think about how zoomed in you want your chartplotter to be, make sure you have a depth display large for leaving harbour, AIS alarms should be set to a suitable sensitivity to avoid the stressful constant flow of collision alarms that can ensue when passagemaking in busy waters.

You can even practice solo reefing, furling and unfurling sails on calm days while in your berth. The benefit of this – particularly with reefing – is understanding how you need to move around the cockpit to get to lines in the correct order, and how quickly you can get forward and back to hook on reefing points.

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The post What you need to know to head out to sea alone appeared first on Yachting World.

The rapidly growing double-handed and shorthanded racing scene has attracted a flurry of recently launched models specifically optimised for this type of competition. But a cost-effective way of competing can also be found with a used boat.

In little more than five years short-handed racing has transitioned from what was often seen as a fringe activity to become mainstream. There was an explosion in interest when a doublehanded mixed doubles class was mooted for the Paris Olympics. This attracted big names including Dee Caffari, Shirley Robertson, Henry Bomby and Ocean Race veteran Emily Nagel.

Even after the class was subsequently dropped from the Games much of that talent has remained in the fleet, and social distancing rules provided a further boost: for a few weeks after the initial 2020 lockdown the only racing possible was solo or doublehanded.

“Growth over the past couple of years has been exponential,” confirms Nigel Colley, Solo Offshore Racing Club director and MD of Jeanneau dealer Sea Ventures. “Once people tried it, many didn’t rush back to fully-crewed sailing. Instead a lot modified their boats for shorthanded racing or downsized.”

Jean Pierre Kelbert’s JPK 10.30 Léon is a double-handed Fastnet winner. Photo: James Tomlinson

It’s easy to think of a good short-handed raceboat as being of a certain mould, with broad transom and twin rudders: Sun Fasts, JPKs and so on. These designs have common traits that include huge stability, translating to better control when pushing hard in borderline conditions and easy depowering when the breeze builds.

However, you don’t have to look far to find examples of wildly different designs that have notched up decent results, including many older models. The most obvious of these is Kelvin Rawlings and Stuart Childerly’s J/105 Jester that won the double-handed division of the 2015 Rolex Fastnet Race, took 4th overall on IRC, and was first British boat on corrected time.

Then there’s Will Sayer’s masthead rigged, shoal draught Sigma 33C Elmarleen, which won the 2008 OSTAR on corrected time and the doublehanded class in the 2011 Fastnet.

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Second hand boats: how to buy a ready to sail yacht

It’s no secret that if you want to buy a new yacht the wait is now likely to be two…

How to win at double-handed racing – 5 top tips from a Fastnet champion

The popularity of double-handed sailing is on the rise. The Rolex Fastnet Race is the perfect case in point –…

More recently, in the 2019 AZAB (Azores and Back Race) my partner and I were 4th overall racing Zest, a 36ft Rob Humphreys one-off from the early 1990s, beating all but one of the seven Sun Fasts in a fleet of 45 boats. Equally, Jeffery Knapman’s MG335 Virago – a design from the 1980s – has a long list of successful results, including overall victory in last year’s RORC Channel Race.

Even before the recent explosion of interest, demand for good second hand shorthanded racing yachts was such that many of the best craft changed hands before reaching the open market. Now that’s typical across the board.

“Demand on the brokerage market has been huge for the last 12 months,” says Hannah Le Prevost, sales director of J/Boat distributor Key Yachting. “It’s coming from people new to racing, those already in the scene wanting a different boat, and from people changing from fully crewed racing.” As a result she says they have a longer list of people looking for a boat than those with one for sale.

Dee Caffari and Henry Bomby racing. Photo: Rick Tomlinson

“The market is really tough at the moment,” adds Colley. “Right now there’s very little available. Inflation in new boat prices is high and lead times are long, so many people are hanging on to their existing boats.” In the last year he’s sold a couple of used JPK 10.10s and 10.80s, plus four or five Sun Fast 3200s, all for 10-20% more than they would have fetched two years ago.

IRC optimised shorthanded racing yachts

Shorthanded racing in the UK and France is predominantly under IRC and there are no one design classes, so it’s imperative the boat will rate competitively (unless six or eight owners eventually get together to seed a new class). In this size range IRC still appears to treat some very lightweight planing boats quite harshly, which tends to rule out designs like the Figaro 2 and many of Pogo’s ultra-fast cruising models.

Equally, the stability requirements for Category 1 oceanic races such as the OSTAR, AZAB and RORC Transatlantic now rule out designs such as the Sigma 33. If your future plans include one of these events it’ll pay to factor it in at an early stage when looking for a second hand boat. Equally, there are few boats shorter than 30ft that comply with the equivalent requirements for the Fastnet.

Outside a handful of small yards such as JPK, two designs currently dominate the market for new boats in this sphere. The most obvious is the Sun Fast 3300 which is offered with a wide range of possible specification and final on-the-water prices varying from around £240,000 to £280,000, including VAT.

Photo: Paul Wyeth/RORC

More than 100 J/99s have now left the factory and racing successes include first doublehanded boat in the 2021 Rolex Sydney Hobart Race under both IRC and ORCi rating rules. Typically the on-the-water price of a fully equipped new boat is in the £170,000 to £190,000 range including VAT.

Shorthanded racing set-ups

Many myths still circulate about appropriate set-up for shorthanded racing. Perhaps the biggest of these is that symmetric spinnakers are difficult to handle. This may have been true a couple of decades ago, but the professional sailors in the old Figaro 2 fleet got it down to a fine art. This knowledge – and more – is now well embedded in the UK short-handed community.

Once you know the drill, gybing a symmetric kite when sailing solo in up to 20 knots of true wind is straightforward. Depending on the boat and sea state, it’s still possible in 23-25 knots.

A J/105 is a solid shorthanded option. Photo: Key Yachting

IRC is relatively kind on downwind sail area and many older boats benefit from larger spinnakers. On Zest, for instance, we increased the S2 by more than 20%. This is particularly important for offshore racing, where extended periods of very light airs can be encountered.

Headsail choice is important too. Even older boats have almost all changed to non-overlapping jibs, as these rate well and sail changes are enormously easier than with big genoas. A few boats have roller furling, plus a heavy weather jib set on a removable Dyneema inner forestay.

However, most have hank-on sails fitted with a slab reef, which makes for a quick and easy change down from a J3 to a J4, for instance. Equally, a North Sails J1 with a Helix structured luff can be fitted with a Cunningham to flatten the shape to match that of a J2.

Shorthanded boats in the UK invariably carry a Code 0, although they are not so popular in the French fleet. When I sailed with JPK founder Jean Pierre Kelbert last autumn he told me his own JPK 10.30 Leon – which won the doublehanded division of both the 2019 and 2021 Rolex Fastnet Races – has a very flat nylon A3 that can be reefed to an A5.

You don’t have to have a super-modern, wide transomed doublhanded race boat to compete

In very light airs it’s as good as a Code 0 at true wind angles as tight as 60-65°, but is a more flexible sail that means fewer kites are needed, which confers a small rating benefit.

Beyond that, Colley recommends buying “the best pilot you can afford.” He also points out that small tweaks to the deck layout can make big differences to how easy boats are to handle when you’re alone on deck. Additional turning blocks for headsail sheets, for instance, can make cross-winching possible. Moving spinnaker sheet turning blocks forward a little from the transom may enable them to be led to any winch, allowing them to be trimmed from the helm.

Another useful modification is cam cleats on the mast for halyards. Sails can then be hoisted at the mast and temporarily cleated when you’re alone on deck. Once the halyard is fully tensioned at the pit, the geometry means it pops out of the mast cleat automatically.

Kate Cope’s Sun Fast 3200 R2 Purple Mist. Photo: Tom Hicks

Going shorthanded

Kate Cope started sailing later than many, before buying a Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 36 for cruising. Her first exposure to the racing scene was in 2015 when she helped a friend, who had replaced his heavy old Rival 32 with a J/105, prepare for a doublehanded Fastnet Race.

“When I was helping Rob cast off, I realised I wanted to compete as well,” she told me. She entered her own boat in the Myth of Malham Race the following year, following it with the Channel and Cherbourg races. In 2017 she completed a full RORC season, including the Fastnet, sailing with a team of six. They were third to last on the water – “But we had a massive sense of achievement,” she says.

It helped that a lot of people, among them Rob Nelson, Deb Fish and David Cooper were really generous with their mentorship. “Even though I was at the back of the fleet, no one made me feel stupid – instead they sought me out and helped me explore how we might have done better.” Initially Cope measured progress by noting the few boats she beat in each race. That list quickly became longer and longer.

After a couple of years, she was ready to step into a more performance oriented boat, with the goal of competing in the 2019 AZAB in a new Sun Fast 3200 R2. “In hindsight, the transition from being almost last in the 2017 Fastnet, to completing the AZAB in a high performance boat two years later was a huge one.”

In 2021 she finished 7th out of the 28 boats that competed in the UK Double Handed Offshore Series and her next big goal is the RORC Transatlantic in January next year. She’s also now organiser of the UK Double Handed Offshore Series and JOG vice-captain.

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The post Second-hand boats: Buying a shorthanded racing yacht appeared first on Yachting World.

The latest generation of autopilots require less manual input to perform well but, besides selecting the correct mode (read Pip Hare‘s piece on how to make the most of your autopilot), there are other ways to go about tuning an autopilot for optimum comfort and speed.

Manufacturers have rolled the basic adjustments into ‘umbrella settings’ to allow ‘one touch’ tuning – some pilots (such as the H5000 from B&G) are even able to change settings automatically if the boat is struggling to hold its course.

However, many of us will still be sailing boats with older systems and even the best autopilots sometimes require a bit of human intervention.

Although the individual settings may be hidden on new pilots they can generally be found and adjusted in the deeper menus of a system so it is worth having a poke around and understanding what can still be manually changed.

Tuning an autopilot: response

The response level determines how often your pilot makes course corrections. Response should be a setting you change often, aiming for your pilot to use the minimum response level to keep a good course in any given conditions.

As the sea state or wind angle changes, just as a human being will modify their helming style, the autopilot response level will need to be changed.

A higher response setting should deliver tighter course-keeping but will require greater power consumption and can result in an uncomfortable ride for your crew so remember to adjust the performance down as well as up.

Finnish sailor Ari Huusela programs the B&G H5000 Hercules pilot aboard his IMOCA Stark

Gain

Gain is the function that controls the size of each rudder movement. This is a setting that may not be found on more modern pilots as manufacturers tend to incorporate the gain into the umbrella response settings so they both change together.

If working with a pilot that still has a separate gain then use it to tune the aggression of the rudder movements. I’d recommend lower gain and higher response for sailing upwind (small but frequent movements of the helm) with higher gain and lower response sailing downwind (large movements of the helm but fewer of them). Big wind and big seas reaching or downwind will require high gain and response.

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Don’t forget to check sail trim if you are needing to boost either response or gain, especially when reaching or sailing upwind. Take the helm and feel the balance of the boat – it may be that you need to take in a reef or ease the vang rather than adjust the pilot settings.

Counter rudder

Counter rudder is the setting that determines how much opposite rudder is applied to slow down the rate of turn as your pilot returns to its set course.

In everyday conditions with modern pilots, counter rudder is not a setting that will need to be trimmed and it will be incorporated into an ‘umbrella’ response setting as with gain. However, there are conditions when the ‘factory’ counter rudder settings will not work and you may need to manually adjust.

Increase your counter rudder settings if the pilot is weaving across your rhumbline. This can often be required in cross seas or big swell downwind. If you do manually adjust counter rudder, don’t forget to drop it back down again as conditions diminish: if your pilot is making short, jerky course alterations the counter rudder is probably too high.

Wind response

The wind response is a bit like rudder response. It’s used when the pilot is steering in wind mode and determines how tightly the pilot will keep to any given wind angle.

Fabrice Amadeo takes a break while the autopilot drives his IMOCA Art & Fenetres

Sailing upwind with a well-balanced sail plan, your wind response could be set quite low; downwind sailing under spinnaker may require a higher response rate. If conditions become shifty you may also need to increase your wind response. Remember the higher the response the more uncomfortable the ride and the more power you will use.

When trimming your pilot for wind response you must also consider your sail trim – the two things are intrinsically linked. If the pilot is struggling to hold a particular wind angle then don’t go straight for an increase in response.

Take the helm first and feel the amount of weather or lee helm on your rudder. If conditions are gusty or shifty sailing upwind try increasing the twist in your sails, move the jib cars back and the mainsail traveller up and ease sheets a little. This will allow the boat to carry on driving through a great range of wind angles so the pilot will not need to be as ‘snappy’.

You may see a little luffing at the front of each sail when you are pointing at your highest but so long as the back of each sail is still driving the boat will keep powering forwards. This mode of sailing will be a little slower overall but it will be more comfortable and the pilot will require less energy, so think about what your overall objectives are. If you are not racing then comfort and power consumption may be more important.

Wind damping

This is a setting that can be found on older pilots and will help achieve better results in gusty conditions. Whereas wind response dictates how closely the autopilot will keep to a given wind angle, wind damping controls the amount of data that is being fed into the autopilot computer; increasing the wind damping will reduce the flow of data. This can be a particularly useful tool in sea states with a short wave length, or light airs with residual swell.

If the mast head is moving around a lot, the wind instruments will be registering greater variations caused by the movement of the boat and not necessarily changes in the wind so damping down the data flow can help.

Of course, the other option for these conditions is to switch to compass mode.

Conveniently mounted cockpit pilot controls

Gust response

Not all pilots have gust response – or surf response/surf mode – options, but if yours does then I would 100% recommend you get to know it and use it. These settings can be activated when the boat is steering in wind mode and will enable the pilot to react automatically to changes in the apparent wind caused by gusts or large increase or decrease in boat speed.

Gust and surf modes are used downwind and allow a boat that is steering to a true wind angle to bear away as the apparent wind comes forward in a gust or a surf and then head back up again as the apparent wind goes back aft. Most often these settings will need to be enabled, and then can be tuned to determine how aggressive the response will be. This will be an extra layer of response over and above wind response, so if gust/surf response is required, I’d expect a pilot to be already steering to a higher wind response setting.

Once this mode is enabled you can choose how aggressively the pilot responds to each change. Some pilots’ gust modes can be set to activate automatically if steering in wind mode between two prescribed wind angles.

Trim your pilot

This is far from an exhaustive guide to pilot controls but hopefully should provide a good grounding for some of the base settings. The pilots I use when racing solo offshore are now capable of incredible levels of response to a huge range of data inputs.

Whatever your pilot set up there is no getting away from the fact that the more you know about it the better it will perform.

Every boat is different, and every time you go sailing the conditions, sail trim and sea state will require a slightly different style of course keeping.

An evening spent with your nose in the long form manual, working your way through all of the menus on your control head will pay dividends in battery management, comfort and speed on any longer passages.

While passagemaking, take notes of what works and build your own pilot trimming guide to reflect changing conditions so everyone on board can make the most of this incredible, uncomplaining crewmember.

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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The post Masterclass: Pip Hare on tuning an autopilot appeared first on Yachting World.

The tireless whirring of my coffee machine brought me back to my senses as I stood, lost in thought, in the cockpit of Mirniy Okean, my 40ft Boden South Sea steel ketch. I watched the sun rise over Bora Bora knowing that today was checkout day: I was about to begin a solo passage to Australia, across the Pacific in full Covid lockdown.

All the islands between Bora Bora and home were closed, except for Fiji, which I’d decided to skip due to the high entry fees to get in. That means sailing 3,400 miles non stop, and I’m not ready for this.

Maybe it’s the more than 30,000 miles I’ve sailed since I embarked on this journey, or the knowledge that after this passage my dream of circumnavigating is over, but something inside me has changed. Going back to ‘normal life’ is not going to be easy. I’ve been living life to the fullest for five years.

I set off from Australia in 2017, having made the decision to sail around the world after competing as a professional tennis player, and then working for the Australian National Tennis Academy. One day, with no previous experience, I sold everything I had, bought a boat and set off. Over three years I crossed the Indian Ocean, rounded the notorious Cape of Good Hope, and transited the Panama Canal before arriving in French Polynesia. Now it was time to complete the circle.

Carlos Cuadrado at the helm. Photo: Linda Terii

I motor my dinghy to shore and start walking to the gendarmerie, but I can’t go in. I’m struggling to come to terms with my journey coming to an end, and I fail to hold back tears. My heart is telling me to stay but my mind is pushing me to go. Somehow I find peace halfway, promising myself that one day I’ll be back and I just have to get the immigration process done. With my passport stamped there’s no turning back.

Pacific immersion

Sailing is the excuse I use to experience the challenge of crossing oceans, but my deeper drive is to integrate myself into the native cultures of the isolated places I sailed into. Researching the history, geography, and culture of the places I have visited became one of my main activities as I planned my circumnavigation.

In March 2021 I was lucky enough to be able to explore three of the eight beautiful islands of the Marquesas: Nuku Hiva, Tauata and Fatu-Hiva. The Marquesas left a lasting impression on me. I relished learning about their powerful cultural dances, skilful artisans, the complex history of their tattoos, and the love and generosity of the people. It will always be a very special place to me.

South seas island anchorage in Moorea.

After spending four months in the Marquesas it was time to start moving westwards, and a weather window of easterlies gave me a perfect wind angle for the four-day passage to Fakarava, part of the Tuamotus Islands. Ten days in Fakarava passed in the blink of an eye. I experienced an exhilarating dive of the famous South Pass with more than 300 sharks, and spent my days diving and learning to spearfish with other sailors.

Next was Tahiti, 280 miles to the south-west. Tahiti was a different experience to the rest of Polynesia: even if it is easy to get away to find unspoilt nature, the centre feels like any other busy and noisy city. The positive of this is there are plenty of shops to restock and buy or fix parts. I also spent six weeks working with the Tahitian Tennis Federation helping athletes and coaches with their high performance programme. I’ve been very lucky in my tennis career to be exposed to great mentors and I loved passing on my experience in Tahiti.

From Tahiti I sailed to Moorea, Huahine, Taha’a and, in what would be my last stop before the big crossing, Bora Bora. Bora Bora had no tourists because of the pandemic, becoming instead one giant playground for sailors. I was going to miss this life.

Scuba diving with sharks in Fakarava’s South Pass. Photo: 1000amares

When the day for departure arrived, I faced this passage like any other, with a spice of fear and respect for the ocean that translates into excitement and caution. The previous days spent getting the boat ready I prepared just as I did for my days on the tennis court: I visualised the problems that could arise and created a game plan, then I made sure I had everything I needed to solve problems ready to go.

Mirniy Okean has taken me around the world without complaint, it has nurtured me and kept me safe. I put my hand on top of the compass and whispered, ‘One more time, baby, one more time.’

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Cruising at Warp Factor 10

Imagine cruising across the Pacific at 40 knots!

Gitana 13 attacks North Pacific crossing

11-man crew leave San Francisco in a bid to reach Japan in record time 31/3/08

I made final preparations for food, gas and water and checked every system on the boat. My competitive mentality loves challenges and once I could put all my emotions to one side, I started to feel excited again for my next ocean passage.

I emailed the Australian Border Force of my estimated time of arrival and port of entry, and made a passage plan that put me well away from the many islands and reefs that dot this route. I studied patterns of weather windows and systems – it looked like the low pressures from New Zealand were a bit higher than normal. That pushed my decision to get away from the rhumbline and give Fiji a wide berth. It would definitely add more miles to the passage, but since I was alone, comfort and safety were top of my priority list.

Heading off

I left Bora Bora on a sunny afternoon at the end of a high pressure, giving me 15 knots of east-north-easterly winds for the next four days. Setting a course for 270° I set off making a pleasant 6.1 knots on a starboard tack. Then, after 500 miles and four days, the wind disappeared.

I could choose to use the engine, or simply float until the next winds pushed me towards my destination. With more than 3,000 miles to go, and conscious of the need to save fuel, I chose the second option. I doused the sails and drifted at 0.3 knots while taking some time to sleep and cook good meals, had a proper shower and made some fresh water.

Taihoe Bay, Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas. Photo: Linda Terii

After floating for 24 hours I made the most of the super-light winds and poled out a genoa, picking up to 2.5 knots speed over ground which, if not very fast, is better than nothing and still gained me 60 miles over the next 24 hours. By day seven, the wind was back, progressively building until it reached a solid 25-30 knots and guaranteed a fast passage for the week ahead. With it there was a 3-5m sea with an eight second wave period on the beam, which made the passage bumpy and uncomfortable.

At night, if there’s no moon or it’s too cloudy to see the squalls approaching, I normally reef from midnight until first light. If a squall comes in before midnight I’m still awake enough to put in a reef in three minutes, and if it comes after first light I’d see it with enough time to reef early. Every time I reefed, I gained in safety and comfort but lost around 0.5 knots of boatspeed, which equates to a lot of time over 3,000 miles.

After 14 days of passage I’d passed Fiji and with a solid high pressure generating consistent winds in the mid-20s from the south-east, it looked a good opportunity to change course to 235°, sailing south-west and aiming for the southern tip of New Caledonia’s Isle of Pines at 7 knots. With a little bit of favourable current I managed to log a few days sailing over 150 miles in 24 hours, and relished the sense of making good progress. It was hard to believe I had been on this same island four years ago, learning to sail as I went.

When conditions allowed Mirniy Okean could achieve 7 knots and cover more than 150 miles in 24 hours. Photo: Linda Terii

Thunderous welcome

Two weeks of solo sailing in, and I was starting to feel tired. Fatigue is something I’m used to from my days on the gruelling professional tennis circuit, but this tiredness was more mental than physical due to the sea state. Mirniy Okean was being hit by huge tropical squalls that hit peak wind speeds of 40-plus knots, and my sleep patterns were all over the place. My alarm was set for every 40 minutes, but I couldn’t manage to sleep even that much. My body didn’t know whether it was breakfast or dinner time, so I ate when I felt like it.

I have to admit, however, that I get excited when things don’t go easily; it must be my competitive personality constantly looking for a challenge. On day 20, somewhere between New Caledonia and the Australian Coast, there was a loud bang and I went out to find the block that holds the vang totally destroyed. I smiled to myself that of course this had to happen at night.

I hove-to, giving myself a few minutes to work out what to do. Then I grabbed my cordless grinder, thankful that I’d remembered to charge it before setting off, took a metre of Dyneema rope and my head torch, clicked my harness to the safety line and prepared to step outside the cockpit. With the boat rolling so much, I had to try my hardest not to cut myself, but managed to round off all the corners of the broken block and reattach it with Dyneema. It worked a treat.

I reset the boat back on course and the alarm for 40 minutes of sleep with a big smile, having realised that I’d not have been able to do something like that four years ago without screaming with frustration.

With 600 miles until Australia the wind disappeared once again. We had averaged 6.2 knots until then, so it didn’t seem fair to complain after the good three week run we’d just enjoyed. After considering all scenarios, this time around I took a different approach. Strong low pressure systems from Australia are not uncommon at that time of the year and one coming my way would be less than ideal. I put the engine on and we kept making progress. Three hundred miles later the winds returned, and I found myself sailing once again at nearly 7 knots.

Cuadrado was able to put in a reef solo in just three minutes. Photo: Linda Terii

There have been just two nights on this circumnavigation when I’ve been scared: the first was the very first day I bought my yacht in New Zealand, facing a huge storm in Cook Strait. The second was the final night before arriving in Australia.

Just 60 miles from land I was surrounded by lightning, the sky illuminated every 10 seconds. Having had a broken radar for two years, I had been facing storms without data since 2019, when I was sailing from Madagascar, but this one seemed like a big one. I told myself one more time that it will pass, but it didn’t.

Although I can’t believe this is happening on my last night at sea, I have to make the decision to avoid it and divert our course. The problem is that I can’t really see which direction it’s moving, and it seems that wherever I go the storm is chasing me.

I hove-to once again, trying to see the direction of the storm and hoping it will miss me. When it becomes clear the storm is heading straight towards me, I make a 180° change of course and simply try to get out of there as soon as possible. I was afraid we’d get hit by lightning so I put all the electronics I could in the oven, hoping the advice I read years ago in a tattered sailing magazine was sound. I reefed the mainsail as much as possible and rolled the genoa away. After four years around the world it was finally time to hoist the storm jib.

I managed to pass right along the edge of the storm, although the winds still reached more than 50 knots. After riding the margins of the storm for six hours, as nothing major was damaged apart from a broken UV strip on the storm jib. I sat down heavy with relief.

The difference between that first night in Cook Strait and the final night is that I wasn’t panicking, which allowed me to think more clearly and make smarter decisions. Sailing makes you earn every mile, and managing stress and fear becomes part of the process of learning. There are no shortcuts, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Cuadrado arrived in the Marquesas in spring of 2021. Photo: Linda Terii

Home at last

Next morning was like nothing had happened, and I was sailing a perfect beam reach on a sunny day approaching the Gold Coast – feeling absolutely exhausted. Just before I went to drop the sails I spotted a splash in the water.

I reached for my camera and saw two humpback whales breaching and slapping their tails just metres from the bow. Whales make those sounds to communicate with others many miles away. I don’t believe in coincidences, but the ocean has made me believe in magic. I felt deep inside that, just perhaps, the whales were sending a message to the ‘other side’, telling my late father of my safe arrival home. In that moment I felt deeply connected to my father, from whom I learned a love for the ocean, and who I know would be proud I followed my dreams.

I finally let down the sails after 28 days at sea: I’d completed the passage single-handed, but realised that I’d never sailed truly alone.

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Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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The post Homeward Bound: across the Pacific appeared first on Yachting World.

If ever the stars aligned to see a sport’s popularity grow exponentially, they did so for the recent story of double-handed racing offshore.

Societal changes, a brief hint of a future Olympic Games role, and even social distancing all conspired to make double-handed racing a phenomenon. Add in a high level of competition, plus the increasing availability of purpose-designed yachts, and the growth in the double-handed scene has been explosive.

One of the most surprising developments of the last decade is just how competitive double-handed offshore racers have become against fully crewed boats.

Pascal and Alexis Loisin won the 2013 Rolex Fastnet overall in their JPK 10.10 Night and Day. Photo: Kurt Arrigo

Nowhere was this better demonstrated than in the 2013 Rolex Fastnet Race when Cherbourg surgeon Pascal Loison and his pro-sailor Figarist son Alexis, sailing their JPK 10.10 Night And Day, won not only the race’s Two-Handed class and the hotly contested IRC 3 class, but also the race outright on IRC against a giant field of 294 boats. Among their opponents were 249 fully crewed boats featuring several top international campaigns.

Double-handed competition in the Fastnet has now reached the stage where IRC 3 is entirely dominated by double-handers, with nine of the top 10 spots in 2019 occupied by two-man crews in the Royal Ocean Racing Club’s biennial offshore.

The class was again topped by Alexis Loison, then sailing with Jean Pierre Kelbert aboard the French boatbuilder’s own JPK 10.30 Léon.

But the most telling statistics from the Rolex Fastnet Race show how massively double-handed offshore racing has grown in popularity. An IRC Two-Handed class was first introduced to the Rolex Fastnet Race in 2005 when it had 20 entries. This grew to 36 in 2011, then to the last race when there were 64.

At the time of writing no fewer than 91 two-man crews were entered in IRC Two-Handed for the 2021 edition of the race, contributing to the event’s record-sized fleet of 450-plus boats.

From small beginnings

So, how has this come about? Double-handed offshore racing has a longer history than its recent boom might suggest. It was created in the UK during the 1960s and 1970s by visionaries such as Cockleshell Heroes leader Blondie Hasler, born out of a pioneering spirit and a demand for adventure following the end of World War II.

Cockleshell Heroes leader Blondie Hasler (left). Photo: Ajax News/Alamy

Hasler encouraged the Royal Western Yacht Club in Plymouth to run the first Observer Single-handed Transatlantic Race (OSTAR) in 1960, which by 1976 had become a monster event with 125 boats. But equally stirring the imagination were the RWYC’s double-handed events, and Hasler spurred the club to run the first double-handed Round Britain and Ireland in 1966 with four stops: Crosshaven, Ireland; Castle Bay, Barra in the Outer Hebrides; Lerwick, Shetland; and Harwich (subsequently replaced by Lowestoft).

The inaugural event was won by Derek Kelsall and Martin Minter-Kemp aboard the trimaran Toria, inadvertently also demonstrating the early potential of multihulls for offshore racing.

The TwoSTAR was later created as the double-handed version of the OSTAR, running from Plymouth to Newport, Rhode Island, and first held in 1981.

However, thanks largely to the notoriety of Eric Tabarly, the OSTAR winner in both 1964 and 1976, French race organisers spectacularly – and in the most magnificently successful way – hijacked both the sporting and business elements of short-handed offshore racing.

On the single-handed side this kicked off with the Route du Rhum in 1978 and the Vendée Globe in 1989, but there were also significant double-handed events such as the Transat en Double (first run in 1979) and the Transat Jacques Vabre, held biennially since 1993.

Apivia, IMOCA 60 sailing double-handed in the 2021 Rolex Fastnet Race

Nowadays, top level double-handed offshore racing takes place in France across all the pro fleets from the IMOCAs, to the Figaro class (notably with their Transat AG2R transatlantic race), to the Class 40 (Normandy Channel Race and Les Sables-Horta-Les Sables) and a multitude of events in the Classe Mini.

Today the Royal Western Yacht Club’s short-handed events still take place on the same great courses, but are purely Corinthian. Meanwhile, over the last 20 years in the UK the amateur side of double-handed offshore racing has been growing steadily and organically.

Whereas once it was broadly acceptable to leave work on a Friday lunchtime and not return until the following Monday afternoon, weather beaten and full of rum and tall tales, this is no longer the case.

Today’s ‘time poor’ society has resulted in owners of race boats finding it ever harder to muster committed, reliable crew. Racing double-handed provides a neat solution: fewer crew to organise and pay for and a smaller, cheaper boat to campaign.

Rob Craigie and Deb Fish race the Sun Fast 3600 Bellino. Photo: Paul Wyeth

Rob Craigie and Deb Fish, who race the Sun Fast 3600 Bellino, began racing two-up together in 2012 and are among the UK’s best Corinthian double-handers. Both previously raced fully crewed, and have even tried single-handed, but settled on racing as a team of two.

The main attraction, said Fish, is the challenge: “You run out of them fully crewed – I’d done the Fastnet, done transatlantics on the ARC a couple of times fully crewed, and the deliveries back. Double-handed is good, because you have to do everything and you are always busy.”

Craigie agreed: “You are very much more involved with the boat. Fully crewed, you are usually sitting on the rail, you aren’t involved, which is a bit dull.”

Over the last two decades, racing for the likes of the Bellino crew has been supported in the Solent by clubs like the RORC, the Royal Southampton and JOG, which have either laid on specific series for double-handers or allowed them to race alongside their fully crewed fleets.

The pattern is repeating worldwide – Rhode Island, San Francisco and the Great Lakes in the US have thriving double-handed communities, and the cancelled 2020 Rolex Sydney-Hobart Race was set to be the first to include a double-handed division.

The medal draw

More recent developments helped an already growing sector of the sport turn supernova. In 2019 mixed offshore double-handed racing was mooted for inclusion in the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, and proposed to the International Olympic Committee by World Sailing.

Kevin Rawlings and Stuart Childerley took 2nd place in the RORC Two-Handed Series with Aries. Photo: Rick Tomlinson

During the event selection process, which is notorious for its politics and power-mongering, it was rejected earlier this month by the IOC in favour of an additional formula kiteboarding medal. It is a huge shame that France, the world’s top nation for short-handed offshore racing won’t host an Olympic event that could engage a vast number of its sailing fans.

Nonetheless even the possibility of double-handed offshore racing becoming an Olympic sport enticed a whole crop of top flight international sailors to move into the fleet.

Titans of our sport such as Ken Read in the USA, Shirley Robertson and Dee Caffari in the UK, and Nick Moloney and Adrienne Cahalan in Australia have all got involved. It has also caused yacht clubs across the globe to start supporting double-handed racing with class events.

Many clubs were further encouraged to increase their support of short-handed racing due to the pandemic. For example, in the UK, due to social distancing restrictions, double-handed racing was the first non-elite aspect of competitive sailing to recover after last spring’s lock-down. Even without the Olympic factor, double-handed racing looks set to continue expanding.

Dee Caffari says she was initially encouraging members of her Turn the Tide on Plastic Volvo Ocean Race crew to consider the new Olympic discipline before deciding to give it a go herself.

The opportunity was spurred when she was contacted by a young sailor, James Harayda, who was taking delivery of a new Sun Fast 3300 Gentoo. During 2020 this led to the duo representing the UK at the EUROSAF Mixed Offshore European Championship, where they didn’t do well, but followed this up with a 2nd place in the Drheam Cup in France, and winning the RORC-organised IRC Two-Handed Nationals. This year they are entered in the Rolex Fastnet Race.

“The focus was generated by its Olympic potential, but actually I have found it is a really competitive class of racing that has been really good fun to sail, and I have just really enjoyed regular racing,” said Caffari, who raced double-handed in the IMOCA class in two Transat Jacques Vabres and a Barcelona World Race.

Dee Caffari is loving sailing double-handed with James Harayda in the Sun Fast 3300 Gentoo. Photo: Paul Wyeth

The principal differences between the double-handed racing she has done aboard her IMOCA and in Gentoo are scale-related.

Transatlantic on an IMOCA, racing is more about chasing weather systems, whereas on Gentoo the much shorter courses are more about boat-on-boat tactics and tidal decisions. A 32-footer is vastly more manageable than even a purpose-built IMOCA, but the racing in what is effectively a one design fleet, is far more intense, with much less use of the autopilot.

Caffari explained: “Everything is loaded really well, it is manageable and within reach and there’s nothing that’s too difficult to get out of. It’s all just about getting the procedures so that you know what is required – what wind strength you need to dial down in before you can drop the kite, or ‘in this wind strength I know I can gather it in myself’.”

New double-handed racing tools

Part of the beauty of double-handed racing is that many owners compete on the boat they already have. However, as double-handed racing under IRC has risen in popularity, manufacturers – particularly those in France – have responded with new designs specifically optimised for short-handed racing.

They notably include Jeanneau, with its Sun Fast range, and JPK. Both have created boats that IRC smiles upon; such as the Loison’s 2013 Rolex Fastnet Race winning JPK 10.10. In 2015 Géry Trentesaux’s won the Fastnet outright aboard a JPK 10.80, which can be configured for racing fully crewed or short-handed.

Nigel Colley heads the UK Jeanneau dealership Sea Ventures, and is a keen short-handed sailor himself. Few have observed the development of these boats as closely. “It started with the J/105, which is still an excellent short-handed boat, but then the JPK and Sun Fasts came along. They don’t race as one designs but they can race on a level-ish playing field under IRC.”

For Jeanneau the breakthrough boat was the Sun Fast 3200 launched in 2008. This was purpose-designed for the French Transquadra race, a transatlantic race for amateur over 40-year-olds.
“They didn’t make it extreme – it could have been lighter with a taller mast but they ended up with a boat that was perfect for double-handed and short-handed racing, which was manageable with a competitive IRC rating,” says Colley.

The Dehler 30, one of the new generation of double-handed favourites.

The genre has evolved further with the more recent Sun Fast 3300 and JPK 1030, as well as the J/99 and Dehler 30. A key factor in their being tailored to short-handing is their inherent stability, gained from hull form and water ballast, allowing them to carry sail without having to reef too often.

According to Colley they have high ballast ratios of 40%, while water ballast is modest, 200 litres on the Sun Fast 3300 for example, or “the same as having three people sitting on the side of the boat.”

That French IRC designs are leading the way in this offshore sector should come as no surprise given the huge amount of development that takes place in offshore classes across the Proto Minis and Class 40s up to the IMOCAs.

Over past decades this has prompted the development of everything from roller furling systems, self-tailing winches and autopilots to twin rudders, and even the evolution of cockpit layouts with all lines from the foredeck and mast led aft to the cockpit.

The slightly scow-bowed Jeanneau Sunfast 3300. Photo: Jean-Marie Liot

Another visible influence is the highly effective (but to some eyes rather ugly) scow bows we are more used to seeing on modern grand prix race boats are now adopted by IRC 30-footers.

Sails for short-handed racing have been refined so, instead of having a giant wardrobe spanning the entire range of wind speeds and points of sail, fewer sails can be carried to cover a wider range, including jibs and even spinnakers that can be reefed, to minimise time consuming and potentially risky sail changes.

As boats and their gear are getting lighter they are in turn less loaded. A Sun Fast 3300 weighs 3,500kg compared to the volumetrically smaller Sigma 33 at 4,100kg. The new designs are also much more inclined to plane, rather than ‘dig themselves a hole in the water’, helping to keep loads light.

Upping the level

While the hardware is improving so are the sailors. When it comes to training for offshore racing the Pôle Finistere Course au Large in Port la Forêt has been considered the best in the world for decades, initially for Figaro sailors but now across all the major offshore fleets. Similar centres have started up across France, with training now extending even into the IRC classes.

With the prospect of double-handing going Olympic training for the discipline greatly improved in the UK too, supported by both the RYA and the RORC. Tornado Olympic sailor turned coach Hugh Styles has been brought in to help. He provides weather information and analysis pre-race and post-race debriefs.

While in Port la Forêt this might take the form of classroom sessions, in the modern locked-down era Zoom debriefing and training sessions have proved just as effective, and in fact work especially well with the double-handed fleet spread across the Solent. It is not only the aspirant Olympians who’ve been keying into this, but all levels.

Double-handed offshore racing in the UK has also benefitted from getting ‘organised’. Leading this is former Artemis Offshore Academy star turned Volvo Ocean Race sailor Henry Bomby, who has been racing with double Olympic gold medallist Shirley Robertson.

Henry Bomby and Shirley Robertson double-handing on the Sun Fast 3300 Fastrak XII. Photo: Tim Butt/Vertigo Films

He has led the formation of the UK Double-handed Offshore Series, which comprises the leading RORC races and Round the Island Race in the build-up to this year’s Rolex Fastnet. The Series is for boats with an IRC TCC of between 0.990 and 1.055, which covers most of the double-handed fleet.

The group behind it includes Bomby; Stuart Childerley, a former Olympian, Etchells World Champion and world class race officer; plus 19-year-old Ellie Driver and Corinthian sailor Kate Cope; thus a broad range of double-handed offshore racers are represented. Expecting to get a handful of boats signing up to their Series, much to their surprise 29 boats pitched up to their first event in early May.

While the 2021 UK season is fully domestic due to the pandemic and Brexit, Bomby hopes to include French events in the future such as Spi Ouest-France or the Drheam Cup, thereby in turn encouraging more French boats to participate in the UK. Colley also believes that in future there will be more short-handed racing internationally under ORC.

Bomby is particularly keen to push the encouragement of youth sailing. Great existing initiatives include Gavin Howe, owner of the J/88 Tigris, lending his boat to an under-25 year old crew to use. “The best model is an owner who pays for the boat and a young guy or girl who puts the boat in the water, trains with them on Friday, races at the weekend and does it again the next week,” says Bomby.

The double-handed fleet now offers the closest offshore racing in the UK. Bomby points out: “This is not the Figaro, but it is close enough that when you’re sailing away from a boat which is the same as yours you know you are going pretty well.” Especially if it has the likes of Shirley Robertson or Stuart Childerley on the helm.

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He’s the solo skipper who might remind you of Keith Richards. A rugged, hawkish face topped off with an unruly mop of black curly hair, Jean Le Cam was the rockstar of this year’s Vendée Globe. When he finished, he danced, fists pumping the air, to French rocker Johnny Hallyday played loud as he made his way up the channel of Les Sables d’Olonne.

Appearing on the race’s live video calls, Le Cam updated his fans with a self-conscious grin and the famous twinkle in his eye. “Clack, clack, clack,” he would mutter, mimicking the rotating camera as it spun to show outside his beautifully optimised IMOCA 60 (which he refers to as ‘Hubert’). “Why are you looking at me?” he demanded in his gravelly voice, scowling into the lens.

‘The King’, as he is known, surprised a lot of people by running in the top 10 all the way around the world and then finishing 4th overall in his fifth Vendée Globe. That’s because, at 61, Jean Le Cam was the oldest skipper in the fleet and his daggerboard-configured boat (the 2008 Farr design that Michel Desjoyeaux won with in 2009) was not one of the latest foiling models.

Jean Le Cam sets out at the start of the 2020/21 Vendée Globe aboard his IMOCA 60 YES WE CAM! Photo: Jean-Marie Liot/Alea/YES WE CAM

But those who know him were not in the least bit surprised. What they saw was the evergreen Breton legend bringing his usual ingredients to bear: immaculate preparation, a racecourse he had encountered four times before (solo, as well as double-handed and crewed round the worlds) and self-confidence in his own ability, born of a 40-year career at the top of professional ocean racing.

Jean Le Cam earned his ‘King’ nickname thanks to his utter domination of the Solitaire du Figaro circuit 20 years ago, which he won three times. He is one of those unreconstructed characters in French sailing (Francis Joyon is another) who has never tried to change his natural persona to meet the needs of commercial backers.

Outspoken, and a man who loves a drink and a smoke, he can be, by his own admission, a pain in the arse. But his relationship with boats and the sea gives him a unique aura. He has a knack of explaining why he loves sailing, and what motivates him, that people find compelling.

When he reached Les Sables d’Olonne at the end of January, he was exhausted by the stress of worrying whether his boat would fall apart before he got there (due to delamination issues he only revealed at the finish), his diction slurring. Yet Le Cam spoke like a philosopher about why he is still doing the Vendée Globe – and who is to bet against him turning up again in 2024?

“It’s the dreams,” he said. “It’s the extremes, it’s about things which are unreachable in daily life. You need to know what is bad to know what is good. You need to know unhappiness to know what is love… When you start accumulating difficulties, it becomes hell. And later on when you get out of it, it is true happiness. Two days ago it was quite difficult, a week ago it was horrible but today it is incredible.”

Breton hero

Le Cam was born in April 1959 into a Breton family living near Port-La-Forêt, where he would go on to play a key role in establishing the world renowned offshore racing school and the CDK shipyard, now one of the top composite yards in the world.

Le Cam on the Atlantic record winning Jet Service V in 1990. Photo: Jaques Langevin / Getty

One of three children, Jean Le Cam sailed dinghies as a boy and on the family keelboat with his father, competing in local races. He clearly had a natural affinity with the sea, but what really fascinated him were the technical elements, and working on boats to maximise their performance.

In his early 20s he was part of Éric Tabarly’s crew in the 1981 Whitbread Round the World Race on Euromarché. He went on to become a regular on the Figaro circuit, winning the solo multistage title in 1994, ’96 and ’99. He was Formula 40 champion three times, raced on multihulls with Philippe Poupon and Philippe Jeantot, competed in the ORMA 60 class and crewed on Alain Thébault’s record-breaking speed machine Hydroptère.

Hydroptère speed trials, with Le Cam on the helm. Photo: Alain le Bot/Gamma-Rapho/Getty

In his first Vendée Globe in 2003-04 Le Cam finished 2nd on Bonduelle behind Vincent Riou. Four years later Riou saved his life after Le Cam’s boat VM Matériaux lost its keel bulb and capsized 200 miles west of Cape Horn, while racing in 3rd place. Le Cam would later say his best ever memory at sea was seeing Riou’s PRB approaching, as he emerged from his escape hatch in his survival suit after waiting for 16 hours in his upturned hull.

Returning to the race again and again, Le Cam was 5th on SynerCiel in the 2012-13 edition and then 6th on Finistère Mer Vent four years ago.

A Vendée addiction

Le Cam’s great friend and fellow sailing legend, Roland ‘Bilou’ Jourdain, has known Le Cam since they were teenagers. Jourdain says Le Cam has two qualities that set him apart: his understanding of the technical side of the sport and his uncommon feeling for a boat.

“He belongs to the boat and the boat belongs to him, if you see what I mean,” he explained.
But, Jourdain added: “Jean needs the sea. He needs to be on the water. He’s a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He says a lot, he can be a real pain and can sit in the corner complaining, but he needs his fix and sometimes, between Vendée Globes it can be hard for him.”

Le Cam rescued Vendée competitor Kevin Escoffier from a liferaft 850 miles south-west of Cape Town. Photo: Kevin Escoffier

Kevin Escoffier gained a unique perspective of Le Cam’s approach to solo sailing, when he lived in close quarters with him for five days after Le Cam rescued Escoffier from the South Atlantic. He says what struck him most was the way Le Cam does not get obsessed with detail.

“The way he sails, he tries not to zoom in too much, but to have a big picture of what he wants to do and what he can do with his boat,” explained Escoffier. “He looks forward to doing the best thing, not only for the next few hours but for the next few days.”

Escoffier was impressed by how on top of everything Le Cam was, pre-empting problems. He added that Le Cam carries the bare minimum of kit on board – what he needed and nothing more. Tactically, Le Cam does his own thing. “He will follow his own path and do what he thinks is right,” Escoffier noted.

For someone who has prepared his boat so assiduously, contending with serious delamination issues will have been tortuous. “[After] Kevin disembarked there was a big front,” Le Cam explained after the finish. “I went to the bow and inside the hull, the boat was delaminating. The hull had moved about 5cm and you are afraid that you are going to sink. I repaired the bulkheads, I cut out the ballast and had carbon everywhere.

“Since then, [I couldn’t] slam and bang. Every hour you are telling yourself that you don’t want to go on. Even the day before yesterday I told myself, I can’t do anymore. You open the hatches and see what is happening every time the boat hits on the waves. It was terrible. And finally I managed to finish. Hubert brought me back home.”

His own path

Jean Le Cam celebrates his Vendée Globe finish. Photo: Jean-Louis Carli/Alea

Despite the structural issues, Le Cam was within 200 miles of the leaders when he recrossed the equator, and finished on the same day as the winner, Yannick Bestaven (Le Cam finished 8th, and both he and Bestaven received time in redress for their part in Escoffier’s rescue, awarding Le Cam 4th overall).

Bernard Stamm, the Swiss ocean racer who won the double-handed 2014-15 Barcelona World Race with Le Cam, says his old friend is a master at sailing the shortest course with the minimum sail area.

“Jean is somebody who does not like to hurt his boats,” said Stamm. “He doesn’t like to over-charge the boat. He prefers light or medium conditions and is able to sail with less sail area than others.”

Stamm recalled racing with Le Cam for three months was fun, despite a growing list of problems on board. “He is somebody who listens a lot,” he said. “Even if he doesn’t agree, he listens and then afterwards gives his opinion.”

Marcus Hutchinson, who managed Thomas Ruyant’s Vendée Globe campaign, has known Le Cam since the late 1990s on the Figaro circuit. He believes Le Cam is the ultimate single-hander. “In terms of preparing a boat properly, preparing yourself, anticipating correctly, imagining all the scenarios – he’s a commensurate all-rounder who has been right at the top of his trade for the last few years,” said Hutchinson.

Hutchinson recalls Le Cam on stage in Concarneau, having just won his third Figaro, and being asked why he kept coming back to sailing alone. “There is only one way I can show you,” he told the presenter, “and that’s for you to come with me next time. But unfortunately you can’t because it is a single-handed race so, unless you do it yourself, you will never know…”

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The post Jean Le Cam: Vendée Globe legend they call ‘The King’ appeared first on Yachting World.

There was a crunching sound underfoot as we loaded Pelagic Australis with provisions for the South Atlantic Ocean crossing ahead. Snow flurries had covered the deck with a layer of white, reminding us that we were setting out in deep winter.

Monitoring the weather closely over the past week we had tracked a train of deep depressions that were wrapped around Cape Horn and funnelling across the furthest southern boundaries of the South Atlantic ocean. A shiver of adrenaline ran through my body. 

Sophie O’Neill and Chris Kobusch made the voyage from the Falklands to Cape Town double-handed

We were days away from casting off our lines from the Falkland Islands. We’d be taking the expedition yacht Pelagic Australis across a wintry ocean, during a time of year we knew few sailing boats would venture out. Where hours of darkness would preside over light.

What’s more, it would be just the two of us on board, my partner Chris and I. For the first time ever, I had a taste of fear mixed with a rush of excitement for the unknown.

This hadn’t been the intended plan. After 11 months in the high latitudes we were supposed to fly home in April after a busy season. Covid thwarted our plans, and worldwide travel restrictions left both us and Pelagic Australis sitting tight in the Falkland Islands four months after our last Antarctic expedition. But we couldn’t leave Pelagic Australis there: moorings are few and far between, and besides, she had become a part of us. So it was time to take her home, to Cape Town, South Africa via the South Atlantic Ocean.

Three of us and the South Atlantic Ocean

We had been searching for a third crew member who’d be prepared to fly to the Falklands during this challenging time – a big ask. Yet our friend Nikki Henderson, the youngest ever Clipper Race skipper, and runner-up in the last race – offered to help with the passage. Delighted, we set about furiously putting arrangements in place to get Nikki out to join us in Port Stanley.

This was no small feat. The RAF operates the only flights into the Falklands, and our initial request to the government to bring in an additional crew member was rejected. Hurdles had to be leapt and endless forms filled in. Finally Nikki was granted permission, only for her flight to be cancelled. We immediately made arrangements for her to catch the next one a week later.

With much excitement, Nikki boarded the plane and took off. Relief swept over us all, but it was to be short-lived: whilst refuelling in Dakur, they announced that the flight was being cancelled and returning to its UK base.

Chris and I were stunned into silence but realised that we couldn’t wait any longer. We called our boss, Skip Novak, and he said: “Maybe you guys need to consider sailing Pelagic Australis back on your own?”

He followed up with his advice: “Play it safe, keep low sails, head further north, hove-to when fatigued”. So, after a long walk to discuss it with clear heads we made the call. “Skip, we’ll do it.”

South Atlantic Ocean beckons

The day before our departure on 22 July an endless stream of people came to the boat in Port Stanley to wish us farewell and a safe passage. It seems the departure of Pelagic Australis was quite an event; there are so few yachts in these regions, and the Falkland Islands so remote, that slipping out of the harbour would never have gone unnoticed.

Heavy snow at Port Stanley prior to departure

After the last well-wisher had left, Chris and I sat in the saloon looking at the latest weather and ice reports. Normally before a voyage we both spend time carrying out a thorough pre-departure brief with the crew. This time, the brief was to each other. 

It felt strange to carry the weight of knowing that we’d be solely dependent on each other, in the South Atlantic ocean where there would be very few, if any, other vessels around, and in winter conditions that could be relentless for the next four weeks.

At 75ft and 60 tons Pelagic Australis is a large and heavy boat, if all went well then we could have a good, safe crossing, but if things went wrong, with just two people alone on such a big boat, that is operated entirely manually, we knew it could be brutal out there. Tension clenched my stomach, but I didn’t share my worries with Chris. Instead, we reassured each other that Pelagic Australis is built to go places, and has weathered many great storms.

“Chris, there are three of us here, it’s you, me and Pelagic Australis too,” I reminded him. After living on board for 11 months, Pelagic Australis wasn’t just a boat to us, it was our companion. We knew it would work hard to look after us, and we would do the same in return.

Casting off from the Falklands at the break of dawn

Slipping the lines

At the break of dawn we fired up the engine and slipped lines to make our way out through the Narrows. Looking back we quietly bade our own goodbyes to Stanley, which had been our safe haven over those strange past few months. In William Sound we hoisted the mainsail. Pelagic Australis creaked and groaned as if standing tall after a long period of sitting down. I looked aloft and marvelled at its beautiful rig. Very quickly we pulled into a sprint out of William Sound, the island at 52° south disappearing behind us.

That night icy cold Southern Ocean winds built to 35 knots and the sea state grew until we were surfing at 12 knots. We reduced sail area and eased the pressure off us all: after all, it was our first night at sea and we wanted to go easy on Pelagic Australis. 

But the conditions set the tone for the voyage, and the noise of the wind whistling through the rig was a sound that rarely abated. 

Heavily reefed, Pelagic Australis makes steady but rolly progress in the big South Atlantic seas

For the first eight days we headed roughly north-east, to get out of the ‘Furious Fifties’ and storm through the ‘Roaring Forties’ as fast as we could.

A hidden moon cloaked us in darkness for the first week until electrical streaks of lightning appeared, illuminating every detail inside the pilothouse while our faces flashed an instantaneous white. 

The crack of thunder overhead kept the off watch person wide awake.

Prior to skippering Pelagic Australis my partner, Chris, had raced around the world as a Clipper skipper. His yacht Qingdao had been struck by lightning off Brisbane, Australia, with the damage destroying their windvane, hitting their instruments and generator starter motor, even shooting down into the depth sounder. 

He was understandably anxious that lightning should not strike twice.

Every time the lightning storms set in, he shut down the entire boat’s systems, so in between the flashes we were truly in black out mode. For the first time ever Chris confided to me: “Of all the times I’ve cast off, this is the first time I have a strange feeling in my stomach.”

I confessed I’d felt it too, and was thankful he’d shared his concerns.

Double checking position with chart against GPS

It was during this first week that our main communications system went down. We were unable to download grib files and from then on relied on text messages from the handheld satellite phone to give us an outline of any weather systems coming our way. 

Before we had always spent a great deal of time reading weather files so it was strange to not have detailed information. However, it made us much more aware of the clouds and conditions around us instead, monitoring them more closely than ever before.

One eye was always on the barometer. At one point we watched it drop from 1005mb to 994mb in four hours, going from an eerie silence to the wind whipping up to 46 knots all around us. 

I’d committed myself to bettering my knowledge of celestial navigation and so endeavoured to take sights the whole way across the South Atlantic ocean. Even if I was off watch, Chris woke me up by putting the sextant in my hand, standing by ready to take the time. It felt more real now, and with our communications systems down, should we genuinely ever need to navigate this way I enjoyed being prepared for it.

O’Neill practises taking sun sights for position in case the electronics should fail

We made our way towards the lower latitudes in the 40s, relaxing into the trip more as each day passed, despite an endless gauntlet of squalls, both day and night. The air warmed us for the first time in nearly a year, and it felt great to finally be on deck without the cumbersome gloves that we’d worn for so long. 

At 0600 one morning I awoke to the high pitched ringing of an alarm telling us the propeller shaft was overheating. Pelagic Australis has a fixed propeller and the shaft spins: in the colder water further south it stayed cool enough to not overheat. We switched on the shaft pump but not long after the alarm sounded again; the pump had failed. 

If it continued to over-heat it could damage the seal and start leaking. We put the shaft brake on, but with each great surf over a wave the boat accelerated and the shaft spun, screeching on its clamp. The sound was ear piercing and excruciating.

Wanting to continue making forward progress we brought the canvas down to the fourth reef. The reins were pulled on, and Pelagic Australis drew back to a plod of just 5 knots, rolling heavily in the big swell under this sail setting. 

We set to work to replace the pump. Thankfully Pelagic Australis has spares for everything, all methodically arranged. Ironically, as we repaired the pump conditions eased to the best of the voyage so far, and we sailed in rolling waves with a pleasant interval between them and a steady breeze. Small fluffy clouds even lined themselves before us, looking like they were forming into the north-bound trade winds. We were reluctantly, and rather painfully, slow, but at least heading in the right direction.

But we knew never to get too comfortable, things could change out there so quickly. Just as we were leaving the 40s we received a weather text: ‘Head further north now. Big low behind you. Developing’. 

More checking of chart positions against the GPS

As the sun set that evening we saw behind us that the marching clouds had dispersed and instead there stood a towering cumulus. The sea seemed to loom from astern, waves began tumbling over one another, white horses colliding. 

Without hesitation we scrambled on deck to reef. 

Two big waves knocked Pelagic Australis onto her side, one pummelled into the cockpit and rushed inside the pilothouse. This was big, the reef had to happen now. Chris and I worked silently on deck, no words uttered between us over the screaming winds. We both deeply resent shouting on boats and this manoeuvre felt almost balletic as we were lifted up by each great wave while the sails formed into their new shapes, like a dancer on stage.

Article continues below…

Sailing the Falkland Islands: A life-changing voyage on board Pelagic

In spring 2016 my partner, Magnus, and I delivered Pelagic, one of two yachts owned and run as a high-latitudes…

Summer sailing in high latitudes is no guarantee of good weather – sometimes winter is better

Although we are in the business of providing uncertainty as one of the mainstays of the Pelagic experience, there are…

That night the winds built to 50 knots and continued into the following day. A heavy grey covering hung over us and the winds blew wild across this open expanse of water. 

The wind speeds reached 58 knots and the waves roared, with just a few seconds between them as they surged into Pelagic Australis from all sides. We bounced, pitched and rolled as they tossed us around, and I pictured us as a Japanese piece of art with a tiny boat balanced on the top of a mighty curling wave, white spindrift flying from the top. 

Up ahead a 700ft bulk carrier, the Ionic Patris, appeared on the radar, our first sighting of another vessel since we set off. As we were already sailing deep we radioed to ask if they would mind keeping clear. A voice came back: “How are you doing out there?” Those were the roughest conditions yet but knowing other seafarers were out there too brought a degree of comfort.

Pelagic Australis is built and equipped for serious expedition yachting

Reaching for home

In between the periods of stormy weather we raced along, often reaching or running before the wind with a poled out headsail, our favourite sail combination! Pelagic Australis has a stunning rig, and although it has the fuel capacity to motor great distances, the explorer yacht is happiest sailing. If you are under-canvassed, the yacht will most certainly let you know. For a number of days in the 30° latitudes we enjoyed some truly fine sailing with steady winds.

Finally, the end was in sight. Pelagic Australis had carried the two of us across the great ocean, with never a cross word said. We three had got on better than we could ever have imagined. 

But it was as we made our final approach to South Africa that we experienced the strongest blows, with 60-knot winds – thankfully without confused seas – and enjoyed our fastest surfs, hitting 17 knots some 400 miles off Cape Town!

As our last night at sea pummelled us with squalls, Pelagic Australis kept charging on. When Table Mountain rose before us the next morning we both silently stared at this new world ahead we were about to enter. The sight of land would normally appear as a safe haven but we had sheltered so far from the COVID-19 pandemic. Now, 22 days after we set off, we were moments away from stepping into the midst of it. The whole journey had been an emotional rollercoaster. 

I thought back to my 12-year-old self, when I went sailing on the sea for the first time. Having only sailed on the Norfolk Broads before, I’d looked to my coach, Paul Whiteman, for reassurance as he held the transom of my Mirror dinghy. I whispered to him: “I haven’t sailed one of these before.” His hands let go and in his steady manner he replied, “It’s just the same.”

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Although not a new product, this webbing line furler is rarely seen outside of French performance cruising yachts, writes Rupert Holmes. It’s a great option for anyone who wants to maximise the efficiency of a roller furling headsail, but whose boat is not configured for a below-deck furler.

Using webbing in place of a furling line allows for a much lower profile furling drum – it’s only the height of the 15mm wide tape – giving an additional 200mm of luff length to the headsail.

A metal link with a swivel joins the webbing part of the furling line to a rope tail, so operation in the cockpit is exactly as for a conventional furling system. The stanchion leads are shaped so that the swivel passes smoothly through them.

The system has a couple of additional advantages. Firstly, the furling drum of the Flat Deck system has a larger diameter than that of conventional furlers, which translates into a greater mechanical advantage, which means furling requires less effort. Secondly, if the furling line is released too quickly there’s no danger of it forming a tangle on the drum.

No tangles on the drum due to webbing line feeder.

But watch out for chafe on the webbing line.

Normal furling line links to webbing (so winching performance is not compromised). The Stanchion rings need to be wide enough to accommodate the linkage.

The unit on my yacht has performed flawlessly for eight months, over 4,500 miles of mostly solo and double-handed racing, along with a little cruising. It’s noticeable that the relatively thin webbing chafes more than a conventional furling line. As it’s a custom product, it would be sensible for anyone crossing oceans to carry a spare.

The FD190 is from Facnor’s racing/performance cruising range and has an elliptical twin groove foil. It’s suitable for boats up to 11.88m (39ft) with an 8mm forestay. There are other sizes for 7, 10 and 12.7mm forestays, as well as a four-model cruising range with a round single groove foil.

www.facnor.com

The post Facnor FD190 flat deck furler appeared first on Yachting World.

The simple things we take for granted when sailing with crew can become a nightmare double-handed. Dropping the main on a blustery night with one of you stuck behind the helm and the other wrestling a flailing sail is not fun for anyone.

These problems are often compounded when couples sail together as women tend to be (although not always) physically smaller and less strong. It is not enough to plan that the strongest crew member should always handle sails, as this leaves a potential area of weakness and risk.

Ideally no part of a double-handed boat should be manageable by only one of the two crew members, not only to ensure that you can sail to safety if one crew is injured, but also for everyone’s enjoyment. If either crew finds an area of the boat too physically demanding, it’s important to adapt the controls to suit the less powerful sailor, starting with the mainsail and cockpit.

For short-handed crews, mainsails need to be quick to drop in an emergency and require no feeding when hoisting, to avoid unnecessary trips out of the cockpit. Avoid using a main with a bolt rope, because when the sail is dropped it will not remain captive at the mast and can quickly become uncontrollable.

My ultimate choice for a double-handed cruising main would be fully battened on a track with lazy jacks and a stack pack bag – a system also used by some of the larger ocean racing boats. With this set-up if pointing into the breeze, you can just release the halyard and the whole sail will fall down and be contained.

Keep in touch with the wheel and the mainsail controls at the same time.

If you don’t want to install a track on your mast then check out trackless batten car systems. Sliders with lazyjacks are a good second choice.

Mainsail controls need to be manageable for either crew, and positioned within reach of the helm. Conventional mainsheet systems should be set up with a bottom block that can swivel and a cam cleat pitched at the right angle for release from the helming position – this may take a bit of trial and error.

For couples, test the loads on mainsheet and traveller when the boat is powered up and make sure you are both able to sheet on the main and pull up the traveller. If this is not the case, look at increasing purchase or adding a fine tune.

Keep your traveller clean and well lubricated; stiff travellers are often caused by a damaged track, or missing ball bearings from the car.

Find a system for leading the kicker back to the helming position so it can be released quickly if overpowered on a reach or run. On a lot of boats the kicker is fed through a jammer on the coachroof, which means if you are helming on deck alone, it would be impossible to release. In these situations a kicker with a longer tail could perhaps be temporarily led to the windward primary winch, with the jammer open.

Jib cars and spinnaker tweakers can often become so loaded they are difficult to pull or release. Jib cars that are positioned using stoppers on a track should be replaced for cars that are adjustable from the cockpit.

Ensure your jib cars and tweakers can be adjusted from the cockpit single-handed.

When setting up these systems use the thinnest diameter rope you can comfortably hold and don’t be afraid to add in an extra loop of purchase. Also, consider using jammers instead of cam cleats for easier releasing, and if possible position jib car jammers with a clean lead to the primary winch.

Less powerful crew members need to make the most of the boat’s winches. Use locking turning blocks to hold jib sheets while the winch is used for something else, plus snatch blocks in the cockpit to help lead ropes temporarily across the cockpit to other winches. But watch for riding turns when doing this and don’t forget to unlock your turning block when the jib sheet goes back on the winch.

The post Expert tips on getting your cockpit set up perfectly for short-handed sailing appeared first on Yachting World.

The decision to reef is as much about boat handling as it is about wind strength. So try to take a holistic view of how the whole boat feels and don’t let the numbers on the wind instruments dictate your behaviour.

When sailing upwind, consider the boat’s angle of heel, the sea state and the amount of helm being used to keep the boat on course. Too much of any of these factors is reason enough to reef. Also, bear in mind that reefing early on a long upwind passage often pays and if your mainsail is getting a little bit older, taking the first slab out of the bottom can give a flatter shape.

When sailing downwind or reaching short-handed, be proactive; a manageable boat is essential and reefing on these points of sail will mostly help with boat handling. Listen to the autopilot motor when down below or watch the movement of the helm. If the corrections are frequent and/or large, then it is time to reef.

Under spinnaker in moderate seas it is often a full mainsail that causes handling issues rather than the kite. Sailors tend to drop the spinnaker first then still end up reefing when the boat handling doesn’t change. If using a masthead spinnaker, be sure the top of your mast is supported well enough without the full main. If in doubt, ask a rigger.

Finally consider your overall objectives for the next 24 hours. If you need to make repairs, cook, clean or charge the batteries reefing can make everything easier. When there are only two crew members on board, it is important not to lose sight of the bigger picture – even if the boat can take the extra sail, dropping the pace for a while might be of benefit in the long run.

Reefing tips

There is no need to make huge course alterations in order to reef your mainsail. When sailing downwind, head up just enough to lift the back of the main clear from the spreaders. Drop your traveller to its full extent, release the kicker and ease the mainsheet a little. Another tip for reducing the amount you need to alter course is to over-trim your headsail to funnel wind into the back of the main.

Get the autopilot to drive, even if you are both on deck, to speed up the process. However, be aware that suddenly releasing pressure from the mainsail may cause the pilot to veer off course, so switch to compass mode and increase the response rate if necessary.

Before easing the halyard, make sure the reefing lines are fastened far enough back on the boom to provide tension in the new main foot as well as in the leech. If necessary, use a secondary reefing line as a makeshift outhaul.

If you prefer not to leave the cockpit for reefing, a two-line system is fairly simple to rig up. Keep a downhaul line attached to each of the cringles at the front end of the sail and run each one through a block at the foot of the mast and then aft through jammers on the coachroof.

Quick tips

• With the wind aft or on the beam get the main clear of the spreaders by over-sheeting the jib to create a backdraft.

• Swap your rams’ horns for snap shackles on Dyneema strops to ensure your reefing cringles never stray from the boom.

• Whip marks into your main halyard showing how far to drop when hooking on each reef. Luminous or white twine shows up at night.

• Use elastic sail ties to tidy the remaining slabs of sail. If the slabs fill with water, the weight will stretch the elastic, draining the sail.

Marking the halyard with whipping twine will take the guesswork out of reducing sail.

Use a downhaul line attached to the rams’ horns or to a strop to control the new tack of the main.

Locking off the first reef pendant on this simple slab reefing arrangement.

The post How to reef short-handed and how to know when the time is right to reduce sail appeared first on Yachting World.

Your diet offshore should be as good as, or even better, than it is at home. As with any sport, nutrition and hydration are essential for maintaining good performance. The 24-hour nature of short-handed sailing is a lot more demanding than the average land-based day, so eating patterns should reflect that.

How do you provision for a crew for three weeks or more at sea?

Whether you are competing or cruising, a balance of carbohydrate, protein and fat is required to keep a constant supply of energy and help your muscles and brain to recover.

Eating four smaller meals a day will help level out your calorie intake over time and also guard against that dozy feeling after eating a big meal. Eating together gives double-handed crews a valuable time to talk, so I normally eat a midday and evening meal with my co-skipper, and will manage my own breakfast and a second hot meal in the early hours of the morning. Quite often I will split a larger evening meal into two and reheat the second part on my early-morning watch.

For those that are keen, making meals at home and vacuum-bagging them is great. For the rest of us, freeze-dried meals or microwavable pouches (which can be heated up with boiling water) can also offer a variety of good, well-balanced meals.

Freeze-dried and vacuum-packed meals are easy to stow and prepare although, if the budget allows, a Jetboil is simpler and quicker to use than a kettle.

Don’t pack food you don’t like: try before you buy. Get hold of a few samples of any freeze-dried and prepared food products before you commit to buying lots. Avoid over-processed ready-meals and check the labels to avoid meals that contain large quantities of sugar and salt. As a rule of thumb I am suspicious of anything that has a lot of unrecognisable ingredients.

Bluewater cruisers give us their top pick of galley equipment

Snacking is good for morale and for maintaining energy levels. Make sure you have a selection to hand when on watch. Sugary foods should be avoided, as they will cause a short-term spike in energy levels followed by a slump, which, personally, makes me feel cold, tired and really grumpy. Instead, consider dried fruit and nuts, cereal bars, chopped-up fresh fruit or a sandwich cut into
halves or quarters.

It is really easy to get dehydrated when sailing: short bursts of activity when fully layered-up can lead to sweating, while in cold conditions you don’t always feel thirsty, and going to the heads can often be such an ordeal that some may deliberately avoid drinking. Dehydration can lead to tiredness, muscle cramps, insomnia and decreased physical and mental performance, particularly around decision-making, so drinking enough should be a top priority.

January 23, 2015. Leg 3 to Sanya onboard Team Brunel. Day 20. Skipper Bouwe Bekking avoiding dehydration.

It is easy to monitor how hydrated you are from the colour of your pee – it should be light. Keep a bottle of water on deck and take regular sips during your watch (this will help to keep you awake) and after any activity on deck. Aim to drink at least two or three litres of water per day including in warm drinks. Electrolyte or sports drinks can be good in hotter climates to balance any minerals you have sweated out, but keep a close eye on how much sugar they contain. Plain water is often best.

Top tips for nutrition at sea

• Empty freeze-dried food into a wide-neck Thermos flask then add boiling water and do up the top. The food stays warm and can be snacked on for a couple of hours
• Consider buying a Jetboil; it will heat water in under two minutes making hot drinks and freeze-dried meals quick and easy
• Label water bottles with each crew member’s name to monitor how much they are drinking
• Porridge with milk is an excellent breakfast or midnight boost, providing proteins, fats and slow release carbohydrate
• Ginger or peppermint teas provide natural stimulation without the slump that can be created by caffeinated drinks

Ocean-bound – experienced skippers offer their advice on ARC preparation.

The post What to eat when sailing short-handed – a nutritional guide for offshore sailors appeared first on Yachting World.

Gybing a symmetric kite double-handed is a tough manoeuvre and there is no question that practice makes perfect. Setting up your boat so things are within reach is essential, as you may need to reach sheets and guys from the steering position and the pole uphaul from the bow.

Other than in very light winds or with small spinnakers, gybing with sheets and guys is a must – if you choose single sheets, make sure you have the strength to push the guy out in all conditions.

Preparation

Before going into the gybe think about where you want your kite to fly: allowing it to fly up might help to keep the sail full, but will make it less stable, whereas using the tweakers to pull it down too much could mean it is prone to collapse. As a rule of thumb I normally set the tweakers to guardrail height.

For end to end gybing I will go into the gybe deep, with the pole squared back, rotating the spinnaker well onto the windward side of the boat. Set the pilot to drive dead downwind with the mainsail well out. Put the windward sheet onto a winch and wind it in until visibly taking the weight of the windward clew.

Gybe the boat on the autopilot, through a shallow angle – around 20° should suffice if you were deep to start with – swinging the main over as you do so. With the main on the new side release the old guy and head up another 10° or 20° to ensure the spinnaker is blowing to leeward.

How to set up your autopilot to sail faster, more comfortably and be more efficient

At this stage the crew in the cockpit should be trimming the spinnaker while the other heads to the foredeck and gybes the pole. Keeping the spinnaker on the leeward side of the boat should avoid wraps until the new pole is on.

Square back the pole and sail deep downwind before heading into the gybe.

Dip pole gybe

Dip-pole gybing is more complicated for a crew of two so I choose to hand steer through this one, while my co-skipper does everything else. Set the spinnaker to fly in the centre of the boat, square the pole back, but keep the leeward sheet on, so the spinnaker does not over-rotate. You can sheet the main in at this point if you want.

The helmsman should now steer to keep the spinnaker full at all costs, allowing the boat to gybe when it feels natural. The other crew secures both sheets – ensuring the windward one has the weight of the sail – releases the guy and then heads forward to gybe the pole.

If you have a dip-pole then spend some time on the dock ensuring you have a good one-man set-up: the pole uphaul must be mast- and even foredeck-operable, poles must trip from both ends and mast cleats must be in the right place. It is easy to get a wrap around the pole end once the new guy is in, if it’s not pulled through as the pole is hoisted.

This could be a job for the helmsman if it’s within their reach, but beware as getting distracted from steering before the pole is set can easily lead to wraps. If not, the foredeck crew can pull a handful of the guy through the pole from the foredeck, then come back and tail the rest from the cockpit.

A dip pole gybe is more complicated short-handed, but can be done if the crew goes forward.

Quick tips for gybing a symmetric spinnaker short-handed

 Practise pole-less sailing with the spinnaker as much as possible – if you are confident you can keep the sail full you will have all the time in the world to complete the gybe.

 Make sure split backstays or runners are free to run out on the windward side to avoid getting the main pinned in and rounding up.

 Set the traveller to windward before the gybe.

 If you get a wrap give yourself a short time limit to sort it out (I’d say less than one minute) if it can’t be sorted then take it down and rehoist.

 Attaching a long line to the middle of the pole will allow you to swing it into the boat while dropping the uphaul at the mast.

 End to end gybes are slightly easier for two people as the pole can be managed from the mast

The post Short-handed sailing: Pip Hare on gybing a symmetric spinnaker appeared first on Yachting World.

Dropping the kite double-handed may seem a daunting challenge, but provided you take adequate steps to ensure the spinnaker is deflated, a drop can be successfully achieved by any size of crew. In most situations a conventional leeward drop down the main companionway will offer security and shelter to get the spinnaker safely away.

Preparation

Halyards, guys, lazy sheets and tacklines should be flaked, ready to run. Hoist the jib and sheet it in – at this stage the headsail is just being used as a windbreak to drop the spinnaker behind; sheeting in will keep it on the right side of the boat. Steer a course as far downwind as conditions will allow without involuntarily gybing; decreasing the apparent wind in this way should help deflate the spinnaker in light and medium conditions.

Quick preparation tips

• Be prepared for a drop from the minute the spinnaker hoist has finished.
• Throwing halyards and tacklines over the back of the boat before a drop will ensure they are not tangled and may provide enough drag through the water to control the speed of the drop.
• Allow enough length in your halyards for your sail to lie flat on top of the water and still be gathered in.
• Forgotten lazy sheets on symmetric kites are often the cause of troublesome drops, so don’t forget they need to run free as well as the guy.

Prepare for the drop by making sure halyards, lazy sheets, guys and tacklines are ready to run.

The drop

Once on course allow the spinnaker to rotate behind the jib and mainsail by letting off the guy or tackline. Once blanketed by the sails start gathering the foot under the boom – short-handed this is best done from inside the cockpit, minimising the risk of crew being pulled over the side and allowing easy access to halyard jammers. Ease the halyard at the pace of the person gathering the sail.

In bigger breeze or with physically less strong crews, consider dropping through the ‘letter box’ – the gap between a loose-footed main and the boom. This can be achieved by leading the lazy guy or sheet through the letter box when preparing for the drop then carrying out the manoeuvre in the same way – pulling the sail through this gap will squeeze any air out of the spinnaker and also give some leverage to the crew gathering in the sail.

It can be quite a mission gathering the foot of a large asymmetric so a drop/retrieval line can help pull the sail into shelter more quickly. A sailmaker-fitted drop line is usually a soft rope, attached to the centre of the sail then passing through one or two loops sewn in the bottom section.

Pulling on the drop line once the tack has been released will ‘fold’ the spinnaker, collapsing it and allowing you to gather the bulk starting at the middle rather than a corner.

An alternative method is to attach a spare rope to the tack of the sail; once the tackline has been released, this will allow you to pull the windward corner quickly round to the leeward side of the boat. Both drop lines should be long enough to come back to the cockpit for short-handed dropping.

Snuffers

When using a snuffer, dropping bare-headed gives better vision of the top of the sail and offers greater security.

When using a snuffer do not let the guy or tackline fly, just ease out enough for the windward corner to reach mid-foredeck or mast depending on where you are pulling the snuffer down. Dropping bareheaded gives better vision of the top of the sail and will allow crew to pull from the middle or windward side of the boat, offering greater security.

Put a snatch block (ideally with a ratchet) on your snuffer line, clip it onto the deck and pull up rather than down.

This will give a greater purchase and in extreme conditions it may also be possible to lead the snuffer line back to a cockpit winch and wind the sock down from there.

Extra tip

Once the sock is down, if conditions allow, the whole spinnaker can be lowered straight through the forehatch.

Big breeze tip

If caught out in a big breeze be prepared to let the guy or tackline fly out to ensure the spinnaker does not refill mid-drop. Remove knots from the end of these lines and let them run. The result will be noisy flapping and a line or two to re-rig, but allows you to focus all your attention on gathering in the sail.

Gather the foot of the sail under the boom, or alternatively through the ‘letter box’.

The post How to execute the perfect spinnaker drop when sailing short-handed appeared first on Yachting World.

A man overboard is every double-handed crew’s nightmare; with only one pair of hands left on board to call for help, handle sail, get back to the casualty and then recover them to the deck, it is essential your boat is well prepared and as co-skippers you have talked through and practised your manoeuvres.

Without doubt the best safety advice is to stay on board, but should the worst happen, wearing a well-fitted lifejacket with crotch straps, a light and a sprayhood is essential.

First and foremost, clip on when you are alone on deck, when you go forward or if you are sleeping on the rail. If you have an open transom, ensure your tether is short enough to prevent the helmsman from washing out of the back of the boat with any big waves.

I usually leave a spare tether of the right length in place at the helm to clip in and out of easily.

Make your co-skipper aware

Let your co-skipper know if you are going forward, or planning any other manoeuvres alone – even if you are not physically asking for their help, just knowing they are awake and will be aware if anything happens to you is an essential part of staying safe.

There are alerting devices which can set off an audible alarm below decks should one of you fall over the side. The NKE autopilot remote control will tack the boat if the MOB connection is broken and there are a great number of personal AIS devices that are either semi-automatic or automatically activated.

These can create audible alarms on AIS and VHF and will give you tracking information to get back to your co-skipper in the water.

Time and money invested in setting up the right system for your boat and becoming proficient at using it could be well spent.

If one of you does fall over the side then call for outside help immediately. If the rescue services are a long way off there may be other vessels in the area that can come and help with a search.

Even if your co-skipper is wearing a personal tracking device, press the MOB button on your GPS and record your position.

Systems on deck

Ideally you should be able to call for help, record your position, start the engine and track a man overboard without the need to go below. This may not need a complete rewire; investigate wireless options and handheld devices.

Getting back to your co-skipper as quickly as possible is the next main focus. Under white sails alone the RYA method of tacking immediately to a hove-to position will at least slow down your progress away from the target while you think through your plan. Do use your engine, but be aware of trailing ropes fouling the prop.

Talk through an MOB under spinnaker before you start any race – how quickly can one person get it down; in the worst case would it be possible to ditch all lines, cut the halyard and lose the sail without then getting tangled in lines?

These are tough questions and the answers will differ depending on your set-up and the conditions, but if sailing even at a modest eight knots under spinnaker you will cover over 240m in just one minute.

Quick tips

• Wi-fi enabled instruments will allow AIS tracking on iPads from the cockpit, which avoids having to install extra screens.

• Keep a stash of light sticks in your pocket – you can throw them over the side to make a trail to sail back along.

• Handheld VHFs now come with in-built GPS and are fully DSC functional. Having one of these at the steering position would allow you to record your position and call for help on the same device. Carrying one of these is now a requirement for RORC events.

• Practise with man overboard recovery devices, make sure you know how to rig them up and that all the bits are easily to hand.

• Invest in a set of knee pads and crawl in rough conditions when you leave the cockpit, keeping your centre of gravity low so you are less
  likely to fall.

Single-handed ocean sailor Pip Hare has clocked up thousands of miles racing and cruising. Among her achievements are five solo transatlantics, including the OSTAR and two Mini Transat races. She also works full-time for the RNLI on sea safety and is Consulting Editor on Yachting World. See her gear test on weather routeing packages

See also Pip’s fascinating series on advanced sailing techniques: SAIL FASTER SAIL SAFER

The post Pip Hare: How to stay safe on board when you’re sailing short-handed appeared first on Yachting World.

Excessive heel is your enemy when sailing upwind, and with no hiking crew this is something the double-handed sailor needs to consider. To sail upwind well you must learn the optimum angle of heel for your boat and then stick to it, adapting your style to allow for the lack of readily available righting moment. Over time you will get the feel of when the angle is not right, even down below.

A short-handed helmsman needs to think about and feel the whole boat; it’s not just about driving, but actively trimming with the traveller and/or mainsheet to maintain a continuous, smooth angle of heel. The backstay can also be a very effective upwind trimming tool so don’t just set and forget.

Helming position

Spend time setting up your helming position. Can one person easily steer and reach the relevant controls with the other hand? If the traveller is rough and hard to pull with one hand eventually you will give up using it and just sail badly. On boats with larger wheels the helmsman may need to sit either astride or in front of the wheel to reach the mainsheet controls.

Can you reach all the controls from your helming position?

Try twisting off the headsail in larger waves to give a smoother ride. This will often help if you are not able to control gust response with the traveller, but will require a different style of helming, ‘feathering’ the boat in gusts so the inside jib telltale is lifting more often, but the boat is flat. This technique requires practice, but is particularly useful in big waves at night.

With no crew on the rail, helming is definitely a wetter experience for the short-handed sailor. There is no way around this. Use it as an excuse to buy a really good set of foulies – consider dry seals if your boat is really wet – then get out there and get on with it.

Use the autopilot

As helming is a much more active experience for the short-handed sailor you will get tired more quickly. We know it is easy to go slow when sailing upwind so keep a copy of your target speeds in view and constantly refer to them. If you are struggling to keep up then let the autopilot take the strain.

The autopilot is a great tool upwind, but don’t just turn it on and walk away. Set it to steer in apparent wind mode and one or two degrees lower than you would normally helm; sit by the helm and trim the traveller to give the smoothest ride, watching the size of helm corrections the pilot is applying as a guide.

Try twisting off the headsail in larger waves for a smoother ride

Tuck in a reef if the pilot looks to be struggling. But if the pilot is coping well, you can use upwind time to carry out maintenance, eat, sleep and plan.

Reefing

Reefing short-handed should not require two on deck and is relatively straightforward, but do adapt your safety controls if doing it alone. Drop the traveller to depower the main before releasing the halyard and double check your pilot is still coping with the course under the new balance of the boat before you go forward.

Before night falls mark your sheets and jib cars with electrical tape when you are confident the boat is sailing well. It is really easy to mess up your sail trim on a dark night and if it all goes wrong you will then have a good base setting to return to as a last resort.

Quick tips

• Splice marks into your main halyard so you know exactly the point to which to lower the main for each reef.
• Practise feeling your angle of heel for night-time helming by sailing upwind with your eyes closed or even facing backwards.
• Put small elastic hoops on the gooseneck fitting to hold reefing rings onto the ram’s horns until the main halyard tension is
  back on.
• In conditions that challenge your speed, consider shorter watches to help your concentration and remember to keep food and drink to hand to avoid long periods away from the deck.
• Talk to your sailmaker about re-rating the boat for non-overlapping headsails; without a crew on the rail you may find the wind range for your No 1 becomes too small to be worth it.

Single-handed ocean sailor Pip Hare has clocked up thousands of miles racing and cruising. Among her achievements are five solo transatlantics, including the OSTAR and two Mini Transat races. She also works full-time for the RNLI on sea safety and is Consulting Editor on Yachting World. See her gear test on weather routeing packages

See also Pip’s fascinating series on advanced sailing techniques: SAIL FASTER SAIL SAFER

The post Sailing upwind when short-handed requires different techniques appeared first on Yachting World.

Before you decide on the best way to run watches double-handed, answer this question: are you sailing double-handed or single-handed in shifts? Successful double-handed teams pushing hard together have often beaten fully crewed entries. To make the most of sailing two-up you both need to be sailing.

Consider at what times over the course of the race will having two people on deck actively sailing make the biggest impact on your speed and when will it make less difference? What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses? How will predicted weather conditions affect your performance over the upcoming days?

Watch patterns

How you manage watches and sleep will depend on adapting to conditions, who you are sailing with, any damage to the boat, where your competition is and just how competitive you are feeling. Everyone is different and we cope with physical and mental exertion at different levels and in different ways.

If one of you needs less sleep than the other, then play to that strength, spend more time with both on deck together.

Don’t be afraid to change your watch patterns over the course of a race, and on longer races ensure you are considering your sleeping strategy as an integral part of navigational planning.

Match sleep to the weather

Matching sleep patterns to the weather ensures you don’t miss out on golden opportunities to make miles. Look for the times when having both of you alert and awake, driving the boat, will make a difference. Push yourselves hard to make it through those times: think pumping the main or trimming the kite while one of you is helming, both being on deck for a sail change at the exact moment a front goes over or having the confidence to push on with the spinnaker in those extra three knots of wind because you are both on deck to take it down if things go wrong.

Sailing upwind is often the time to bank some sleep. Autopilots are good at steering upwind and reefing the mainsail is a job easily handled by one. This is a time I would switch to longer watches (sleeping on the high side, of course) to get rested, eat well and save your energy for harder times.

Temperature may also affect the length of a watch: in low latitudes the heat and lack of shade can be difficult, you may choose to run strict short watches during the day, but both push overnight when it is cooler. You might also choose shorter watches in extreme bad weather with the off watch co-skipper sleeping fully kitted up ready to run on deck.

Running a strict watch system allows both of you to have the same – decent – amount of sleep, while other duties such as routine maintenance and navigation can be split between co-skippers to do off-watch.

I choose to fall back on this system if both crew need to recharge their batteries or if having two people on deck would make very little impact on the overall boat speed. Consider the length of your watches, taking into account that it takes around 90-120 minutes to complete a full sleep cycle, and the average time anyone can sustain a high level of concentration is four hours.

Set up your watch system around the maximum time you are happy for your co-skipper to stay on deck, agree to include changing, ablutions and making the tea in off-watch time to ensure no one person is left on deck alone for too long.

Be honest with each other

Extreme tiredness and lack of energy can creep up on even the most accomplished ocean sailor and being honest with yourself and also your co-skipper about injuries, tiredness and performance is crucial to success. Always check your performance against the boat’s polars, if you are alone on deck and struggling to get the boat going, then call up your co-skipper and work on it together.

Be honest with each other about your levels of motivation and how hard you are prepared to push before the race; pushing someone else outside their own acceptable levels of discomfort can be counterproductive. Understanding what these levels are before the start will help to manage conflict on the water.

Learn to nap

Napping is not just for single-handers; learning how to do this will really help your performance. A 20-minute nap will significantly increase your alertness and short-term energy levels. However, sleeping for more than 30 minutes may lead to sleep inertia, making it very hard to wake up.

If you are both struggling with tiredness consider taking alternate short naps until one of you feels alert enough to stay up for a full sleep cycle of 90-120mins while the other crashes.

Quick tips

• If sleeping in foulweather gear, invest in a fleece and Gore-tex blanket to wrap yourself in; your body temperature drops around 1° when you sleep.

• Tuck a mobile phone with a vibrating alarm inside your mid-layer against your collarbone, this can rouse you from deep sleep when a sound alarm may not.

• For most people 0200-0400 is the time in our circadian rhythms we most struggle to stay awake, so consider managing this time with alternate short naps.

• Dehydration will make you sleepy. If you are starting to feel tired, drink water or an electrolyte drink. This should help boost your alertness in the short term.

Single-handed ocean sailor Pip Hare has clocked up thousands of miles racing and cruising. Among her achievements are five solo transatlantics, including the OSTAR and two Mini Transat races. She also works full-time for the RNLI on sea safety and is Consulting Editor on Yachting World. See her gear test on weather routeing packages

See also Pip’s fascinating series on advanced sailing techniques: SAIL FASTER SAIL SAFER

The post How to plan watches and sleep when sailing short-handed appeared first on Yachting World.

Navigating when sailing short-handed can be an often-overlooked challenge. It can throw up stressful situations, particularly when it is the responsibility of just one member of the crew, navigating in unfamiliar waters when probably tired.

One solution is to create a road book. This is a concept used extensively by the French short-handed racing community and basically condenses all the crucial or stressful parts of your intended passage into one easy-to-understand document that can be shared between co-skippers.

Before you depart spend a couple of hours virtually ‘walking the course’ bringing together all your passage planning tools, tidal atlases, weather routeing tools and charts (paper or electronic).

Break your passage into legs or phases and for each one try to work out what the navigational hazards or pinch points might be, when will you need to change sails and what information you might need to have close to hand in addition to your charts.

Road book

My typical road book will contain: a list of legs with bearing, distance and sail selection, zoomed in screen shots of areas with tight navigation – normally these will have a lat and long grid marked on them and I will have annotated them with a felt tip pen – tidal charts, boat polars and a sail cross over chart when racing, entry or pilotage diagrams for arrival/finish.

Extract from Pip’s road book showing hazards at Land’s End

When sailing single-handed I print and laminate all these details so that I can take them on deck with me.

Though a lot of navigational software will allow you to access this information from one computer screen, it still takes time to retrieve or double check information, meaning one person will have to leave the deck at what quite often could be a stressful time.

It is also often the case that one crewmember is significantly better at ‘driving’ the software, which can be a problem if they are off-watch asleep, or even feeling unwell. The process of creating the road book will make you more prepared for any navigational challenges and enable both crew to access vital information quickly.

Waypoints

Input all chart plotter waypoints before leaving the dock and keep a list of waypoint names or numbers in your road book; it is really easy to make input errors when under pressure or tired.

It is important both crew have a bigger picture of the course and don’t simply follow a line on the chart plotter, particularly if using a plotter on deck and at night time.

Use a chinagraph pencil to write memory prompts on the side of the cockpit to keep continuity during watches – eg ‘ When wind shifts to 200 tack’ or ‘depth no less than 9m’. If you don’t want to write on your boat, get a small whiteboard to keep in the cockpit.

Always translate distance into time, especially when communicating with your co-skipper, as this will allow you both to prepare mentally for manoeuvres and understand when you may be approaching risky situations. Again this is particularly important at night time – eg ‘We have another 20 mins on this course then we must tack to avoid the coast’ or ‘We must have the spinnaker down in two miles, which gives us 15 mins at this speed’.

Quick tips

• Think course first then speed – make the position and the direction in which you are travelling a priority at all times.
• Keep a speed, distance, time graph by the chart table to convert distance to time easily.
• Discuss ‘what if’ scenarios before going off watch so both co-skippers are able to take immediate action with confidence.

Single-handed ocean sailor Pip Hare has clocked up thousands of miles racing and cruising. Among her achievements are five solo transatlantics, including the OSTAR and two Mini Transat races. She also works full-time for the RNLI on sea safety and is Consulting Editor on Yachting World. See her gear test on weather routeing packages

See also Pip’s fascinating series on advanced sailing techniques: SAIL FASTER SAIL SAFER

The post Short-handed navigation – and how to create your ‘road book’ appeared first on Yachting World.

Outside gybing is not purely reserved for boats with extra-short poles or top notch race crews. If you practise, it can be less risky than pulling the clew inside the luff and is a great alternative for crews with less muscle power.

The key to success is to ensure the spinnaker flies out freely, like a flag, so the clew passes directly in front of the boat. Picture steering the boat around the sail, rather than pulling the sail around the boat.

Leading into the gybe, steer a course that ensures you keep enough pressure in the spinnaker to blow the clew forward; in lighter airs you may need to sail higher to achieve this. You need excellent timing for the release of the old sheet – have someone on the helm rather than use the autopilot.

Let the crew call the manoeuvre as they are able to judge the pressure in the sail and if need be can direct the helmsman to come up before the gybe.

Allow the sheet to fly and the clew to go forward

Prepare your spinnaker sheets with care. The clew must fly out from the boat and around the front in one clean movement. Pull the tackline on fully to reduce the risk of a wrap.

When you are ready, spin the old spinnaker sheet off the winch, simultaneously steering rapidly downwind so the spinnaker ends up streaming directly ahead. Steering too slow or too soon, insufficient pressure in the sail or the sheet snagging can cause the clew to be pulled back towards the luff, allowing the spinnaker to fold up in a wrap.

Practise for good timing

Practise releasing the sheet to learn how quickly to turn the boat and what pressure is required in the sail. The helmsman must keep an eye on the spinnaker and actively steer to blow the clew forward.

If it starts to go wrong, cancel the gybe, head up and pull the sail back in on the old side; it is very hard to recover the gybe if the release is hampered.

Pull on the new sheet when the clew has passed the bow

Once the clew has passed directly in front of the boat and over to the new side, start to pull in on the new sheet. Do not be tempted to sheet in if the sail is still inside out. The mainsail should gybe as the clew passes round the front of the boat and at this point the rate of turn can be slowed down.

Now it is less critical to keep someone on the helm, so the autopilot could be activated, allowing an extra pair of hands to manage the mainsail.

Take in sheet as quickly as you can manage

Once the main has gybed, steer the boat up to a broad reach. Do this even if the spinnaker is not yet in as it will blow the clew to leeward and so reduce the risk of a wineglass. At this point the autopilot can take over in true wind mode so the helmsman can get stuck into grinding a winch.

There is no easy way to pull in the sail. But so long as the clew is blowing out to leeward there is little risk of wrapping the spinnaker so, if you have a weaker crew, steer the boat on more of a reaching course and wind the sail in your own time – it is not fast, but it gets the job done.

Step by step

1. The clew must be allowed to fly out in front of the boat.
2. Do not attempt to pull the clew round if the sail is inside out.
3. Tack batten prodders help stop the lazy sheet from falling under the pole.
4. The crew is best placed to call the gybe as they can feel the pressure in the spinnaker sheets.

Quick tips

• Splice lightweight tails to the end of your spinnaker sheets to give the extra length required for this gybe.
• Stick glow-in-the-dark tape to the clew for gybing in the dark – choosing a white spinnaker will help too.
• In very light airs the clew may not blow round so re-reeve your sheets and pull the clew round inside the spinnaker luff instead.
• Measure your spinnaker sheets to check they are long enough for the clew to pass round the front of the boat with the spinnaker foot at full stretch.

Single-handed ocean sailor Pip Hare has clocked up thousands of miles racing and cruising. Among her achievements are five solo transatlantics, including the OSTAR and two Mini Transat races. She also works full-time for the RNLI on sea safety and is Consulting Editor on Yachting World. See her gear test on weather routeing packages

See also Pip’s fascinating series on advanced sailing techniques: SAIL FASTER SAIL SAFER

The post How to use the outside gybe for short-handed sailing. Pip Hare explains appeared first on Yachting World.