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Going to the start line

September 27 2008

Certainly all the teams to a different extent are trying to use the passage to the start port as a full-fledged sailing simulation or at least to make “the boat delivery” be close to racing conditions. Some present it to the race organizers as an obligatory 2000 miles qualification and some are trying to practice perfect manoeuvres. Puma has crossed the Atlantic, Ericsson came from Sweden and the Irish were came from Ireland We were not an exception and made a decision to try out everything or almost everything on maximum in order to test every element of our work – whether it’s a technical part or an organizational one, new rigging or a system of keeping the sails inside.

The other day we had our mast from Hall Spars delivered (by plane!) and just 12 hours before the planned time to leave, the technicians from this North American company were making the last-minute preparations, fixing the locks and doing the measurements. Heavy blasts of wind didn’t let the crane work at full capacity and once this gigantic pre-historic dinosaur’s counterbalancing paws (carrying the weight of the vessel when the guys were installing a keel) lifted 80 centimetres from the ground, which quite radically changed the face of our always calm crane driver. Everyone understood that such a fall could have postponed our entry by many and many weeks.

However, things were slowly progressing and being a part of this mess, that looked like moving to a new apartment, I suddenly found the cork of the Moet & Chandon champagne bottle - the one we used for Christening “Kosatka” in Portsmouth in June earlier this year. Someone told me the cork should be put under the mast and even better we should insert a coin inside it beforehand. I didn’t want to insert a 2-rouble coin and instead a 5-rouble coin, which was the only one I managed to find, went into the side of the cork. Strange as it is, but no one knew the exact answer to my rather simple question, ‘where and how should I put the cork in?’ Everyone had heard something about this tradition, but there was only shrugging shoulders. Nevertheless, I didn’t leave the place where the mast was hanging through the hull already for one hour with only 10 centimetres between its bottom and huge plates, which reminded me of a set of pads put inside the “cup” of “Kosatka”. They were lifting and lowering down the mast as the procedure of straining the shrouds went on. Since the mast is brand new its curve and necessary number of centimetres in the vertical plane could be adjusted with pads of different sizes.

At last Tim called me and I got a chance to throw the cork into a 7 cm x 7 cm spot and a half million euro miracle came down and covered my mascot raising my childish happiness beyond any levels imaginable. Murray smiled like a father smiles at his child: “Oleg, we’ll be lifting it for another good forty times during the race!” Breaking my fragile crystal dream of leaving the cork untouched on the bottom of a cup. “Don’t even think of taking it out!!!” was my answer which, however, left me with an impression that already next time no one will remember this. We are now in Spain, in the start port, and it seems to me that over the four days we’ve been here the mast was lifted at least twice for some repairs and adjustments.

But let’s go back to Portland. Someone was announcing the new time to leave the docks over and over again, but every time they then cancelled it and I was wandering around the empty rooms of our base in my boots and racing clothes, listening to iTunes from time to time and downloading song after song. Finally when I was just about to buy a full album and prepared to download it for 30 minutes, Andreas appeared and bawled: “Let’s go! They are ready”. I left my laptop to Sophie, providing her with the necessary instructions and ran to the boat already filled with sails, bags and equipment and jumped up the mast to the first row of spreaders to hoist the main.

When we were three miles away from the Portland Bay, the bright sun met us, which was very unexpected - just like when someone turns on the light in your bedroom at late night and you squint in full surprise. Those who see the sun every day (or at least once in two days) won’t probably understand the irony of this small event. But for us every single sunny day after 16 months in England was like a present. Moreover, starting in September it had rained cats and dogs every day and now after making just one step off the doorstep of England we found ourselves in the sea of blinking spray, rays and sunlight.

The general mood was turning to a wave of jokes and irony about the geographical spread of Light and Warmth on Earth not being just or fair. It’s totally correct, because England as well as my native St. Petersburg is mostly seeing low pressure – and I came to know this from meteorology, which is one of essential parts of learning sailing! I don’t know how everything will turn out, but if I once make a decision to buy a house or a flat abroad the first thing I’ll do will be buying all the weather data over the last 10 years about this place – just like we did when we starting designing “Kosatka” before the Volvo Ocean Race 2008-09.