Race to Rio, the final push

Whales and Dolphins became a regular sight as we approached race finish. It seemed strange to have travelled across the Atlantic and had only had flying fish for company! As the depths became shallow, it forces the nutrient rich water up to the surface, drawing all forms of microscopic life to the surface. This drew the migrating Humpbacks and Wright Whales to feed during their long migration North to South.

Our only fear was that we might have a collision with one of these magnificent creatures. Although we weigh roughly about the same as an adult Humpback, our flimsy hull would be no match against strength of whale blubber and muscle!

The conditions for sailing had been fantastic all the way across. Unfortunately, we now found ourselves in a wind hole! With each 'race sched' we saw our competitors draw closer!

On the morning of the final day, I was the last 'off watch'. My watch had finished some 20 minutes earlier, but I just sat on the lee ward side, searching the horizon for signs of the wind that would take us the last 120 miles into Rio. I descended the ladder down into the Saloon. Everyone was spent! I salvaged a bit of breakfast before turning in. We now had 6 hours to get some kip. We all silently slipped off to our bunks to get some rest and forget the light conditions that had blighted us for the past 4 hours!

I was awoken by a pleasant sensation.... the boat was slightly heeled over, and I could hear the water lapping past our hull! I came on deck and it was beautiful day! Slight breeze, plenty of sun. The shorts and T-shirt weather! Port watch handed over control, and I relieved Steve from the helm so he could go and enjoy 6 hours in his bunk. He warned me not to lose the breeze, and said it had been patchy, but the wind was holding.

We could see over to our starboard side the beautiful golden sands of Brazil. We were mindful not to get too close for fear of falling into another dreaded wind hole close inshore.

We soon became aware that the breeze had begun to freshen. To the level where it felt a bit chilly in the shade. An odd sensation that we had not experienced since leaving the Channel. I became aware that the horizon (on our port side) had begun to cloud over and darken. As the ominous cloud rolled towards us, the breeze began to build further.

It appeared the the mighty Atlantic wasn't about to say goodbye without one last test!

The wind swung through 45 degrees and we were soon having to beat into 20knots of apparent wind. This meant that we were heeled over at 45 degrees!

Crew were disappearing very quickly down the hatch and reappearing in full oillies. We all had a good idea of what this was developing into, and sure enough within 20 minutes the rain started! By this time I had been on the helm for over three hours! To be fair the crew had been kept busy with reefing the main, and changing down from our largest head sail (Yankee 1) down to the Yankee 2. This eased our heel slightly, but the sea state had picked up and we were starting to see some huge rollers trying to take Welcome to Yorkshire head on!

Rupert appeared on deck (also in full oillies). He gave the word to tack and head out to sea. We were in danger of coming very close to a large reef which would be under our lee (meaning we were running the risk of being blown onto it).

As I tacked the bow through the wind, the rest of the crew executed their jobs slickly. We went down to reef 3 in the main, and bagan to change down to our smallest Yankee head sail (Y3).

This manoeuvre took longer as those that were able went forward and began to take down the Yankee 2. This was all compounded by heavy seas, driving rain and some very gusty blows!

From my position on the helm, I did my best to avoid 'falling off' too many waves. Unfortunately I could not avoid them all, and on one occasion I screamed forward for everyone to hold on. The bow sharply rose skyward! The first two thirds of our 68ft went airborne, and all on deck prepared for the landing!

The wave disappeared as it carried on its original course. We had been travelling at over 11 knots, and with our momentum, we held level as Welcome to Yorkshire 'belly flop' into the trough of water in front of us.

The impact was huge, and she shuddered through her mast right down to her keel. As I looked up I was desperately counting all the crew who I could see on the bow! Yes! They are all still there! (all safely clipped on) It certainly was a day to be wearing your 'brave pants' on the bow!

Despite being soaked through (still wearing my shorts, t-shirt and sponsored fleece) I watched with huge pride as the rest of Starboard watch battled through some of the toughest conditions. They were absolute heroes! Including our Skipper, Rupert (who returned with his life jacket inflated - from receiving a good dowsing)!

Everyone returned to the safety of the cockpit / winch area, and I managed to swap with Leonie who took the wheel. I went below and changed out of my wet clothes and into something dry and then into full oillies.

Whilst I was below I noticed a few people sat around Chris (Port Watch-leader). He looked a bit dazed. When I asked what had happened I was told that he'd been in the mid bow - below decks, helping to wrestle the Yankee 3 up on deck. Andy and Keith had been helping him when a huge wave knocked us sideways, and they all went flying across to the other side of the boat. Chris ended up being at the bottom of a pile of people, and one very heavy sail. I felt incredibly guilty. Whilst there is nothing I could have done to avoid the waves that had smashed us, as helmsman at the time I felt it was my responsibility to keep us on a safe course. I apologised to Chris, and he told me not to worry about it. I still felt terrible.

I was soon back on deck, and took up position on the windward side with the rest of the watch. We watched as the shipping increased as we got closer to Rio. A huge tug (bound for one of the oil platforms) steamed by. The crew looked down on us as we battled into the wind. I could make out that one or two of them were enjoying a cup of hot drink. They must have been chatting to each other saying 'look at the crazy English people'!

Soon it was time to go below as Port watch came on. We descended into a world that was pitching around at 45 degrees, hot and humid, but the most welcoming aspect was the smell of hot curry being served up! We fought to escape our saturated oillies and were soon eating heartily! Thank you to the Mothers that day! You saved us with the best bowl of food ever!!

We'd worked out that we would be finishing in only a few hours, so we had requested to be woken up just before the finish, as none of us wanted to miss the big occasion. I was duly woken by Jim, who was going on about how 'Skipper urgently needed me on deck'. I was half asleep as I pulled on my soggy gear back on, and eventually climbed the companion way to the where Rupert stood. I could make out the huge looming shapes of the rocks of Rio, Sugar loaf mountain about a mile ahead of us.

'Everything alright Skip?' I asked. 'Ah Gary, would you do us the honour of taking us across the finish line?'
I was absolutely shocked! Jim had been watching and when I turned to him he gave me a big slap on the back, and smiled! What an honour!

The next half an hour was spent watching the navigation marks going into Rio. As we crept through the darkness, the lights of the city began to illuminate the surrounding hills and mountains. Giant sea birds followed us as if we were a trawler returning from a fishing trip. As we passed the outer markers a ghostly figure seemed to hover high up in the darkness. It was Christ the Redeemer! An amazing sight!

We crossed the line in second place, in the early hours of Thursday morning (01 September 2011). The deck was transformed into a huge party as we all embraced and cheered! Welcome to Yorkshire had crossed the Atlantic from Madeira to South America in just under 20 days!  It was an amazing feeling!