Women break another record

While I and 16,000 others were sailing around the Isle of Wight on Saturday, Dee Caffari and an all women crew, including her Vendee Globe rival, Sam Davies, were breaking the record for sailing around Britain and Ireland.

Good luck to anyone who wants to try and better them. Been there, never want to go again.

Ellen MacArthur, a real dame

This year’s Isle of Wight Round the Island Race was a great day on the water. I had the chance to go sailing on practice day with Ben Ainslie helming Team Origin’s Extreme 40 Catamaran, then on the race itself with Dame Ellen MacArthur and Sebastien Josse. I’ll settle for that.

Ainslie had only helmed the cat for the first time on Friday morning before our afternoon sail but he had the Volvo Ocean race winning skipper Mike Sanderson ready to de-power the main if a tip looked on the cards.

I had expected the race to be a bit of a procession but there were some great duals around the back of the island off Bembridge when the wind died. The after-deck on ICAP Leopard is clearly not used to anyone trying to take its wind and Josse had a lot of fun doing just that.

Most of the day was spent chewing the fat on deck with Ellen MacArthur. I’d been looking forward to meeting her for some time but hadn’t wanted a set piece interview with PRs looking over our shoulders - more of a natural conversation if that could be possible. And that’s exactly what happened. I think I had read somewhere that she is quiet and reserved. Not true. But she’s her own woman all right.

Lots of people are rightly suspicious of journalists and those in the public eye need to be particularly guarded. I didn’t want to pry in to her private life but at no stage did she put up any shutters. If you’ve read her autobiography you will know as much about her as you could know about anyone.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to be pointed out and photographed everywhere you go – wearing I should think. It’s probably why she stays on the Isle of Wight most of the time. But at least people are friendly there. There’s none of the lampooning today that happened after she rose to fame during the 2001 Vendee Globe.

I’m not the star struck type and I would run a mile from celebrity interviews but MacArthur has real star quality – beauty too. It’s the eyes and the inner woman that sort of glows. It’s difficult to explain without seeming smitten.

When I mentioned to two friends that I would be meeting her, they said: “Oh yes, she was the fastest on Top Gear wasn’t she.” No mention of her extensive sailing achievements. How quickly people forget. Or maybe they were surprised, as people are continually surprised, by the depth of her determination.

There are a lot of egos out there in sailing and some people are very good at disguising them in the presence of journalists. But I think that what you see is what you get and what you get in Ellen MacArthur is a team player who makes time for people where she can – given the demands on her time. She came a long way very quickly in her teens and dealing with so much fame so soon must have been tough. Now she handles it like a professional. It’s the only way.

At the end of the day she didn’t rush off but came up to the bar tent for a beer. She wasn’t bossy as I’d feared she might be. But she was enthusiastic, infectiously so, about her passions – sailing, sustainability (a big one) and her charity. She seems to draw inspiration from the strengths of the children she meets who are suffering from cancer or leukaemia, and they must do likewise from her own achievements.

I suspect we’re going to hear a lot from her soon in the sustainability movement. She speaks about the environment and the ecology with a campaigning fervour and she knows her stuff. It’s what we need.

I liked her a lot. Top woman, Dame Ellen MacArthur.

NB. Top picture: Seb Josse with Ellen MacArthur.
Lower picture: Working our rocks off on the rail of the BT Open 60. Picture credit: onEdition.

The things we take for granted

Brian Thompson has been writing on the Vendee Globe web site about the ordinary things in life that suddenly take on new meaning after a prolonged absence.

He says: "I am relishing the freedom to walk, to run, to go outside the 60 foot radius I was limited to. I am loving being with the family, and to see people and talk to them face to face rather than over a scratchy phone line. I am absolutely amazed to go to a shop and see a cornucopia of goodies that I was not able to have for so long; fresh milk - just go and pick it up, vegetables - take what I wish, chocolate - which flavour would I like? I am relishing listening to the radio, picking up a newspaper, going to the cinema, walking on grass, seeing the first daffodils appear. It’s all new and fresh to me.

"Do I miss those last few weeks and days of the race, being stressed and covered in hydraulic oil, coaxing Bahrain Team Pindar to the finish line to keep 5th place? Not really.

"Do I miss the Southern Ocean, the warm trade winds, the purity of the sea? Yes, I have been immensely privileged to see it once again, to live in that world for so long, to really understand we do live on a blue planet, wrapped by the sea. I am sure I will be back, hopefully in another Vendée, perhaps on another speed record attempt, and then one day cruising and showing the kids this wonderful world that we are entrusted with. I will never forget the finish of course, it was the most amazing experience, the most perfect morning to bring the circle to a close."

His comments brought back memories for me of a 43-day voyage across the southern ocean to New Zealand. His experience must have been far more acute because of the length of time at sea, the constant fight to stay in the race and the denial of normal social contact. As he points out, radio messages are not quite the same as meeting people in the flesh.

Such experiences lend a sharpness and clarity to the things that otherwise we might easily take for granted. This sharpness fades very quickly and so do the bad memories, which probably explains why so many sailors need to go back.

I remember that I adjusted so comfortably to life on board our boat that I was reluctant to step foot ashore. I enjoyed the cheering welcome but found the whole thing overwhelming. Most of my crew mates had family members to greet them but mine were on the other side of the world and I missed them.

The other thing I recall was a tremendous feeling of wellness. I had never felt better in my life. Whether it was because my body had been purged of alcohol and additives, or whether it was because the muscles had become toned by the constant movement, I have no idea.

Brian is a very grounded individual, a professional racing sailor who has spent hundreds of days at sea, so it's interesting to see that he too notices the differences of daily life. I wish these people who complain because of the colour of their steak or an inconvenient set of roadworks, would take time out occasionally to count their blessings. Sometimes when we go without for some time, it can helps us appreciate the things that really matter in life.

The Needles up close.

Anyone who has sailed regularly in the Solent out of Portsmouth, Southampton or Cowes will be familiar with the chain of rocks called the Needles - probably the most famous landmark for sailors in the south of England.

I have passed them many times in yachts but it was only this last weekend that I managed to get up close and personal - too personal as it happens.

A few of us visited the Isle of Wight to spend a day kayaking and learning some of the rescue and recovery routines. We decided to go for a paddle in the morning and do the routines in the afternoon. The weather was good and the tide was receding with the prospect of a bit of breeze getting up later in the day.

We headed west towards the Needles from the Cowes direction within the Solent where it was pretty calm, but as we approached we could see that between the rocks the sea was much less benign.

The Needles get their name from a spindly pillar called "Lot's Wife" that collapsed in a storm in 1764. Today they resemble more a set of molars.

Four of us paddled out and rounded the lighthouse under the supervision of Owen Burson, an experienced instructor who runs Isle of Wight Sea Kayaking. On the channel side of the Needles there was a bit of chop but nothing too worrying.

There was quite a bit more chop, however, between the lighthouse rock and the second of the "white teeth" jutting out from the island. The idea was to paddle through this gate towards the calmer water beyond.

I volunteered to go first, with the others following, spaced a good four boat-lengths between each kayak, so we didn't get in the way of each other. Just as I had reached the roughest part between the rocks I heard a shout from Charles Godden (who crops up with BJ - Mark Brownjohn - another of our group, in this story) behind to watch out as his canoe ploughed in to mine. I had no means of steadying myself and there was a slow inevitability about the capsize.

There was time enough for me to rip the spray deck away as I went over (no I haven't had the self-righting and rolling lesson yet) but it didn't feel too comfortable to be a canoe's length from the rocks in the waves. This is not the place you would choose to fall out of a kayak.

Charles held on to the upturned kayak as Owen arrived and paddled me clear while I held on to my paddle and the rear of my kayak. Once away from the cliffs we were able to go through the recovery routine - emptying the canoe and clambering back in while it was rafted to Owen's kayak. Then it was back with the spray deck and once more through the gate - this time successfully.

Everything went well during the recovery but I can tell you it was a relief to be back inside those cliffs. It taught me just how easy it is to fall out of one of these sea kayaks and just why it's important for comparative novices to be with an instructor. I don't blame Charles (well of course I did, continually, for the rest of the day, just as he insisted he had saved me), it was just one of those things.

In the afternoon at a calmer spot near the shore we rehearsed the routine that had happened for real in the morning. Owen says that it's good to practice your balance at home on a big exercise ball. Safer too. I must remember that.