Sevenstar Round Britain and Ireland Race - Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The theory of relativity is rarely applied to decision making. But it must have come in to play at some stage, back in the dark days of winter when I was invited to join a crew in the Sevenstar Round Britain and Ireland Race. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The race, run intermittently – the last was four years ago - is one of the most demanding in the repertoire of Royal Ocean Yacht Club events. Multiply the Fastnet race distance by three, throw in some hostile Scottish and Irish weather, add a pounding Atlantic swell, and long, arduous beating into unhelpful winds, and you have the recipe for a race that is going to test the character of the most hardened of offshore sailors.

Did any of this enter my head as I carved out space in my diary all those months ago? How could it? Britain and Ireland look quite small on a map of the world. Besides, the race was in August, a month of balmy harvest days and long, lazy snoozes by the poolside. I simply could not relate these mid-summer images to the grim possibilities that accompany any offshore race.

Some of these were awakened in the spring when I dug out my sea boots and joined a crew that had been assembled by Philippe Falle, director of Sailing Logic Racing, a company that enters teams, sailing Reflex 38s, in various UK sailing events.

On the strength of its results, one of his teams, sailing Puma Logic, one of the company’s stable of race boats, should have qualified to represent Great Britain in this year’s Rolex Commodore’s Cup, but the team was overlooked by the RORC selectors in a decision that has still not been satisfactorily explained.

With something of a point to prove, the new Puma Logic team has notched up a string of second places, putting it in contention for the 2006 IRC Class I series.

A choppy race to Dieppe in the Cervantes Cup reminded me why I struggle so much with this kind of event. An acute bout of seasickness brought me back to my senses. Sail racing, I decided, was not for me.

But the very next day I had one of those not-to-be-missed invitations to sail with the crew of Moose Sanderson on ABN Amro One, the winning yacht in the Volvo Ocean Race. The glamour, the excitement, the speed and the quality of the teamwork that makes this sport so engaging, could not be ignored. Sail racing is difficult, probably one of the most challenging and technical sports in the world. At its best, the feeling of satisfaction in a job done well is unbeatable.

The laws of relativity were at play again. How could I have doubted my earlier commitment? Good results for Puma Logic in the next two races, mostly sailing in light winds, watching the spinnaker billow, bronzing the forearms and sucking in the ozone, only confirmed the decision to sail on. Life felt good.

But nothing lasts. With 24 hours to go in the round Britain race, water was streaming in to Puma Logic’s hull through a wrong-sized ring seal on the steering column. On race day the boat was lifted out of the water for a replacement. Compounding our problems, first mate, Sara Stanton, had fallen ill with food poisoning. Hoping it would soon clear up, she was helped aboard and in to a bunk.

A day later, approaching Land’s End, Stanton’s condition had deteriorated, forcing her transfer to the Penlee lifeboat. We kissed goodbye not only to our best crew member but also to the class leaders who raced away during our three-hour detour without redress.

All the boats were struggling in pounding conditions as they crossed to the West of Ireland, when Puma suddenly lurched wildly as the steering cable broke. For what seemed an age we hove to under the emergency tiller as Falle, already exhausted from helming, sprawled in the tight space below the after deck to make repairs.

Back in the race, against unremitting winds gusting to 20 knots the long beat up to Muckle Flugga seemed endless and when we reached this loneliest point on the northern tip of the Shetlands we found it shrouded in mist.

Class leader Magnum, had gone too far ahead to catch unless it suffered some serious mishap. Instead, after clawing our way back in to third place, we concentrated on reeling in the second placed yacht, Mostly Harmless. The wind had shifted cruelly forcing more beating south with very little spinnaker work.

Constant sail changing for that extra fraction of boat speed paid off when we passed Mostly Harmless off East Anglia, extending our lead to a comfortable second place although there was nothing comfortable about sailing in a channel storm on the last day. Conditions on board these bouncing stripped-out racing boxes would make a Spartan shudder.

Popping the champagne on a Cowes pontoon at 4 am in the morning we feel satisfied with second place behind a worthy class winner in Magnum. Then, amid the celebrations a race official tells us that both our boats have been protested by Mostly Harmless for sailing within and not outside the Eddystone lighthouse which should have been left to starboard. As the column goes to press the outcome is uncertain. It’s a pity that this truly epic race, with Kingspan-Chieftain heading the standings in the higher classes, should end in the rule book and not on the water. But that’s racing.

PS. The protest was withdrawn and the positions stand.