More reports from the Normandy Channel Race

Date: 20/05/2010
TUESDAY NIGHT
Members of the public who watch the Louis Vuitton Cup on TV see beautifully slick manœuvres and may be led to believe that it is always thus on boats. Well, one must be honest, it isn’t always perfect.
And so it was that last night 40 Degrees was the victim of what the Bretons call a "distribil", the English a "big fakeupe" (which becomes a "komplite fakeupe" when more than one thing goes wrong at the same time), and I call it a point where you are really “dans la m...e”.
I would like to stress that everything which is meant to happen does eventually happen and always at the worst moment, so a "fakeupe" is always at night, preferably as dark as possible, when the wind is strongest or the sea as rough as possible, and if it’s raining too, that’s normal.
The night had started well, with a calm sea, and flying the big spinnaker which we had hoisted at Longship.
But it got to the stage where we needed to change down to the fractional spinnaker as the wind had risen to over 20 knots. And that’s when the fun began. I went onto the bow to sock the spinnaker. It was mighty difficult as the boat seems incapable of holding a course at an acceptable wind angle, and I can tell you that trying to sock a spinnaker with the boat veering between 90 TWA and by the lee is not easy… After a while, the big monster was under control and inside the boat. We hoisted the fractional spinnaker, sheeted on, and we were off… for 5 minutes… then the tack snap shackle exploded. So now the little monster was whipping freely all over the place. It had to be socked and the problem resolved. But we had the same problems for socking as with the first spinnaker, except that the wind and sea-state had increased significantly. The end result was that when the spinnaker was about one third socked, it started to wrap itself around the forestay and tie itself in knots. I won’t bore you with the details of the adventure, but it took us a good hour to untangle it all, using up quite a lot of energy and getting soaked inside and out. Then we had to repair it, and rehoist it with everything more or less in order. We were exhausted by our two hours of fun and games, and the result was clear for us to see when the next position report came in: 6 miles lost.
As I’m sure we are not the only ones having "fakeupes", we are not complaining, but it is easier to lose races than to win them.
A tantot

WEDNESDAY MORNING
WHO STOLE IRELAND?
It is a little frustrating not to be able to see anything. We are in pea soup fog, and I am wondering if Ireland really exists. On the boat computer, with the position reports and the radar on, it feels like we are in a virtual world.
However, what is definitely not virtual is the shifty wind. You have to be on top of it all the time. Which means that I am not getting much sleep. Fortunately, it seems that you need less sleep the older you get. This is quite handy on a boat. Perhaps sponsors should bear that in mind when they all want to sponsor “up and coming youngsters”. In offshore racing, the winner is the one who stays alert. We know that from the Figaro Race. It is unbelievable how much you can lose by not concentrating for a moment, or a little error which takes seconds to happen, and then you have to slave away for hours to cover your losses.
Miles are gained in tiny units, but lost "en Masse", (as the Quebecquois say). What is quite entertaining is getting the position report in. It’s rather like being back at school, with the teacher handing you your marked homework with comments. Good, not good, could do better… or even « would do better to concentrate rather than staring out of the window ». That’s all from me, as it is indeed time to get the position report in.
A bientot