This account was written at the time of the race in 2016
Disclaimer
Some of you may have heard the news, and I wanted to give you a summary of the events of the past few days in case you’re interested. It’s been a blur so I’m sure I’ve missed some crucial details, or jumbled up a time line, taking journal notes was impossible in the conditions we experienced. But I hope you will get the gist of things.
Postcard Perfect Start
We had a great start and led our division out the gate on Tuesday morning. The wind and seas started building as we zipped past the Farallon Islands under clear skies.
Working Shifts
As the seas and wind increased so did our boat speed. We were working in two man shifts, Robb and Kirk (the two boat owners) on the first watch from noon to 6 PM. Roark and I taking the 6-10 PM. Basically 4 hours on, 4 hours off through the night until 6 AM rolls around, we then switch back over to 6 hour shifts. This is done to cut down on the fatigue that can set in from the intense concentration and physical demands of driving at night. We intended to stay in that sequence until we hit Hawaii.
Movable Ballast
The vibrations of the of the boat’s system’s being tested, the sound of the water rushing past the hull and over the decks along with the pitching motion were indicators of things to come and gave me lots to think about as I lay in my bunk trying to sleep. Sometime before my first watch several cases of bottled water had tumbled off a dislodged shelf in my berth. After several minutes or so I managed to re-secure the shelf but loading the water back on was impossible due to the erratic movements and confined space of the berth. So, I packed the intact cases against the leeward side of the berth and shoved the loose bottles wherever they would fit, problem solved. The slowly disintegrating card board boxes and full 2-liter water bottles became my new bunkmate for the rest of the trip. These things were to be expected as the first couple of days of this race are advertised as being the toughest. The weather was setting up to be a fast exhilarating ride, just what we had hoped for.
Settling In For A Wild Ride
When I came on deck to start my 6 PM shift with Roark, things were very lively. We switched positions every 30 minutes from driving to trimming as the wind speeds built into the mid 20 knot range. We kept our course above the rhumb line, the most direct route to Kaneohe Bay Oahu, our finish line. By 10 PM we were full on heavy weather racing, and it was the “essence of awesomeness”, just as I had imagined! Waves frequently broke over the boat and made the smallest movements treacherous. The moonlight helped but, errant breaking waves could not be seen until they hit the boat and broke over us. Hands and feet crab crawling was the safest way to make our way around the cockpit. Any movement was done only when necessary. I did manage to crawl to one of the GoPro’s occasionally to try and capture the moment, no idea currently if it was worth the effort.
Point Of Contact
Fifteen minutes before our watch ended as the half moon was heading lower in the sky. I could see the red glow of headlamps below as Kirk and Robb readied themselves. This entails getting dressed into multiple layers of warmth capped off by foul weather gear, boots, beanie and gloves. A challenging task under the circumstances. Somewhere in this process Robb was thrown across the cabin into the stove. Last year a solid stainless grab bar was installed directly in front of the stove to be used as a handhold when needed. It was at this time that Robb was injured. Kirk came up first and said Robb was going to need a few minutes to recover from the fall and that his ribs were injured. Robb eventually made his way on deck to relieve me and mentioned he was in a lot of pain from the collision and could I look at the stove when I went below because it was loose and knocked off its gimbals. After I re-mounted the stove while on my hands and knees, I stripped down to my base layers, made my way to my berth and passed out.
Kirk gave me a twenty minute heads up before our next shift started at 2 A.M. Putting on salty wet layers was next, as I was attempting to save some fresh clothes for another night in the trip. As we made the shift change I noticed Robbs moments were very labored and he indicated the pain was intense. He was able to perform his duties, but it was taking its toll. Robb slowly and painfully made his way back to our berth.
Magic Moment
When I came on deck Roark had already taken the helm and what a sight it was. The boat was flying along around 10 knots occasionally touching 12 or 13 knots with a 24 knot wind gusting to 28. The sky was super clear, no moon and the Milky Way was directly lined straight over the top of us stretching out over Hawaii and beyond, perfect! Roark and I continued switching off on driving duties managing to pass a few boats, we were only able to see their mast head lights, but it was satisfying to know we were sailing well. Other divisions had started before and behind us and we assumed that some of boats we were seeing would not be direct competition. As the sun was rising Kirk came up to relieve us and stated that Robb was unable to take his watch due to his rib injury. I stayed on deck with Kirk for a while and contemplated what this meant.
Misery
At this point Robb was in a lot of pain, lying in a bunk that kept jumping around, unable to sleep or relax, and stuck below in a wet stuffy berth he succumbed to a nasty bout of seasickness. Throwing up with damaged ribs; I just can’t imagine the misery, this carried on for far too long. After consulting with the medical team associated with the Pacific Cup it was decided to turn back and get Robb medical attention where he could be evaluated, the medical folks were worried about a lacerated spleen, this was around noon on Wednesday.
The Turn
The water had started to turn that deep blue associated with deeper water, and it felt like the water breaking over the boat was getting warmer, or maybe just “not so cold”, so turning back in these conditions came with baggage. After the turn, things got interesting. Robb was completely incapacitated, Roark started to feel the effects of the new motion and also became sick, but he did rally like a pro and was there to do whatever was needed as we slogged our way back. The rest is a blur of short watches followed by bailing water up and out the companionway, short rests, and do it all over again. Somehow water was starting to fill the bilge and became problematic. This continued all afternoon into the darkness of the night. Around 3 AM I passed out in full gear including boots full of sea water. I came too before sunrise, pickled in my foul weather gear, Kirk and Roark were totally worked over, but things were starting to calm down.
It’s been a physical, mental, and emotional journey that I wouldn’t trade for the world. “Mirthmaker” was great, along with my crew. I feel lucky to have been included in this adventure and thank Kirk and Robb for making it possible. I still plan to get my ocean crossing thing checked off while racing a sailboat. Trans-Pac perhaps?
Sitting at home typing this out, while the gear I have been living in since Tuesday is drying on the slack line in my back yard, I feel a sense of loss. I am starting to get used to the fact that I am here and not out there, trying to live in the moment and enjoy all the wonderful people that mean the most to me.
Mark Warren
P.S. I just heard from Rob that his spleen is healthy and should serve him well into the future.
Curious Observations 