Friday, February 2nd
Report from our special correspondent in Wellington.
The Cook Strait is not known for giving sailors an easy passage. Choppy seas, strong
currents and shifting winds make this an unattractive stretch of water. Club Med was
the first of the challengers to negotiate its pitfalls today, as she sailed past Wellington,
New Zealand. Our correspondent reports on a tricky passage.
8.00 am, local time
Aboard the local lifeboat, the Spirit of Wellington, the mood is pretty cheerful. Veritably
jolly, in fact, just like her crew.
Today’s mission is to pick up some video cassettes which crew member/cameraman
Jacques Caraës has carefully prepared during the first half of The Race. The sun is
shining, although the rocky coasts are veiled in wisps of cloud.
The sea is calm – for now. The semi-rigid forty-footer is making twenty knots,
skimming rapidly over the waves, which are going in the right direction for us.
10.00 am
After a two-hour journey, and a brief detour to have a look at the beach where Captain
Cook took shelter on several occasions, helmsman George Findlay takes up a waiting
position ready to meet Club Med. Grant Dalton and his crew have been delayed
because the wind has turned against their big blue cat.
3.00 pm
Armed with binoculars, we all peer into the distance. A light mist makes it difficult to
make out the top of the giant catamaran’s mast. She is coming, though, and suddenly
there she is, a tiny speck, growing before our eyes.
It’s strange to see the boat again, as majestic and powerful as ever. Now she is
getting closer. We head for the giant cat, whose blue hulls still gleam in the sun. The
waves are still going in the right direction.
There are not many boats following her, and the reason soon becomes obvious. We
make a quick u-turn and as we begin to follow the catamaran’s wake the sea shows its
true colours. Goodbye gentle surfing, hello nasty waves. The swell is choppy and
short, and we are rapidly losing ground. Only a few bigger boats are able to keep up
with Club Med without too much trouble.
Aboard the lifeboat, it is a different story. As it jumps from wave to wave, the narrow,
red boat’s propellors are lifted out of the water and spin uselessly in the thin air.
We are losing ground, but thanks to some skilful helmsmanship, the big blue
catamaran comes back within our reach. On board, everyone is hard at work, locked in
concentration. The crew are in race mode, just as they were in Barcelona. Grant Dalton
and his men don’t seem to have let up for an instant since the off, and they are
clearly all still highly motivated.
Catching up with great difficulty, we catch sight of Jacques Caraës. He is holding a
blue bag containing the video cassettes we have come to collect.
It is not easy to get up close in this minefield. The best option is to throw the precious
package overboard. After a moment’s hesitation, he throws it cleanly and accurately,
in spite of the conditions, and the exchange is made.
Aboard our boat, Alister Thompson catches the package in a manner worthy of the All
Blacks, who, along with the country’s sailors, have established New Zealand’s
reputation as a first-class sporting nation.
Grant Dalton calmly supervises the work on board. On the port side we can see the
repaired plexiglass hood, battle scars from the Southern Ocean to which the crew will
now return. This is the last sunny day they will enjoy for some time.
4.00 pm
Our boat finally draws away and we quickly begin to lose ground. The crew had lowered
the staysail for a moment in order to slow down a bit, and now they have got it back
up and the boat is picking up speed again, in a slightly stiffer breeze than before.
And so she disappears again, for another thirty days, perhaps less.
It is too early to say who will win at this stage, but one thing is certain – Grant Dalton
and his men won’t give up the lead without a fight.
The boat’s silhouette becomes difficult to make out and the enormous catamaran
disappears over the horizon.
The waves are getting stronger and we set off back to port, leaving the sailors to their
fate. The sight of dry land doesn’t seem to have diminished their appetite for the open
sea. They are on their way once more, now heading for Cape Horn at a pace which, if
they carry on the way they are going, could very well topple some more records.
Farewell one and all!
Stay tuned to TheRace.org
CF
Special correspondent in New Zealand
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