COMMENT
SOLO OCEAN RACERS MIGHT BE SUPERHUMAN – THOUGH THEY’D HAVE US BELIEVE THEIR EXPLOITS ARE ALL PERFECTLY REASONABLE
The world’s top sailors can be extremely convincing. Talk to the best of the best and in no time at all you find yourself nodding in agreement at explanations of how they handle situations the rest of us simply can’t imagine.
Their logic and approach seems completely sound. In their world it is – thanks to thousands of sailing hours under their belts that allow them to consistently and repeatedly raise their game. But step outside their bubble, or try and have a go yourself, and you’re quickly brought down to earth.
The instant reminder of being slapped in the face by salt spray travelling at 40 knots while hanging on as the carbon creation beneath you bucks and lurches is precisely what makes talking to these sailors so fascinating. In the build-up to this year’s Route du Rhum I was lucky enough to head out with Sam Goodchild for a trip round the Solent on a breezy, blustery day aboard his Ocean 50 trimaran Leyton.
In the motor sport world they nickname these trips ‘taxi rides’ as various drivers take journalists for a spin around a race track. It can be both exhilarating and alarming at the same time, exhilarating for the obvious reasons and alarming every time you approach a corner at such speed that it feels like the car and the driver haven’t seen the bend. Naturally they make it round, leaving your level of expectation to catch up in time for the next turn.
It was the same aboard Leyton. Despite being aware of both technical and physical aspects of how multihulls generate high righting moments, the lifelong monohull sailor in me knows the inherent risks that multihulls present.
As we headed out from Portsmouth into 20-25 knots on a wind-against-tide Solent and bore off, the acceleration grabbed my attention immediately, shortly before I got my first face full. Even when I’d got used to this, the motion at 25 knots is so different that it takes a while for your mind to anticipate what happens next as it struggles to connect breathtaking 35-plus knot apparent wind speeds, a bucking bronco feel and a range of alien noises.
Fortunately, taking the helm helps to put things into perspective as your mind joins the dots.But after such rides I’m frequently left with the same question, how on earth do you do this alone offshore for days or weeks on end?
Talking to Sam about it afterwards he described how we were sailing in de-powered mode with reefs in, the daggerboards up and never hung around in the broad reach
