South African Donald Alexander 23rd in Class40

Hi all, Debra again. Sorry I wasn’t able to provide more timely updates for Donald’s finish. In the process of all the logistics of getting to Guadeloupe, I forgot about it being a French island and my U.S. cell wouldn’t work. I also forgot to bring a French power adapter, so once I got to a place with Wifi, my computer battery died, so I was a bit out of luck for awhile. Donald has his U.K. cell phone (which works here) and we have a French adapter, so we’re back in the 21st century.

Donald got a good night’s sleep and is more able to function this morning. As I’m writing this, I have to laugh…he’s not totally functioning yet. He was stumbling around this morning trying to get his U.S. phone to charge, inserting this cable and that and finally using the post of my earring in the hopes of cleaning out the port (which has been highly corroded with everything it’s been through in the past three weeks.) After twenty minutes or so, he looked at me in utter helplessness, gave up and flopped on the bed saying “I simply can’t make any decisions. I’m like one of those feeble, old men who suddenly finds himself completely and utterly helpless.” That, after he’s managed to navigate his way, solo, across the Atlantic in the most challenging of circumstances!

He’s going to relax today and send out his own message on the blog, so check in again. I’m sure it will be good! In the meantime, here’s an article that was published on the official Route Du Rhum website that I think you’ll enjoy. They failed to mention, maybe not realizing it, that Donald is the first South African to complete this grueling race in the Route Du Rhum’s 40 year history. I’m very proud of this man!

More to follow today, but in the meantime, enjoy this article:

Donald Alexander, 23rd Class40

Donald Alexander Power of One Route du Rhum — Across the finish line! Route du Rhum-Destination Guadeloupe 2018

Told by his medical advisers to give up climbing mountains because of the strain on his heart and severe altitude sickness, South African adventurer turned solo sailor Donald Alexander completed the 3,542 nautical miles Route du Rhum-Destination Guadeloupe transatlantic race this afternoon when he crossed the finish at 13:34.06hrs (09.34.06hrs Guadeloupe) on The Power of 1 to take 23rd place in Class40.

Sipping the traditional rum punch which is given to each skipper as part of the warm welcome to Pointe à Pitre where the race finishes, Alexander said, “I came for the adventure and the competition was almost secondary. I got a lot more adventure than I expected, and in the competition, I did better than expected.”

The US-based 60-year old real estate investor was formerly a top dinghy racer who turned to windsurfing and kitesurfing for many years. But it was in the mountains that Alexander enjoyed his biggest challenges before he was recommended to find a pursuit which did not stress his heart so much or cause altitude sickness.   Four years ago he put a toe in the water when he made his first Atlantic crossing delivering his stock Pogo S2 series Class40 to the USA. The following years were spent preparing and planning for the four yearly transatlantic race which he finished today in 26 days 34 minutes after the start in Saint Malo on Sunday November 4th.

Gales in the Bay of Biscay and big, slamming seas during the first days of the race caused damage to his Class40 yacht which required him to divert to La Coruna in the north west of Spain when he was in the top half of the 53 boat fleet. There, in collaboration with the boat’s builders, he spent two days repairing before re-joining the race.

“I was lying 19th coming across the Bay of Biscay when I had damage to the hull, and so I had to come in to repair that. That was two days to La Coruna, two days to repair and then another day to get back to where I was. So that took five days out of my race,” he said. “Coming 23rd after that I am happy. It was an unbelievable adventure. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.”

“Some of the bad storms were crossing the Bay of Biscay,” he added, “but further on, when I got to the Azores I had worse storms there. I have a lot of experience with storms on this trip. It is a great experience but I am glad it is over. I am ready for a bath and a shower and good food, and to see my wife.”

Alexander was welcomed in by a fleet of well wishers and race officials. “From my side thank you so much for the welcome. It means so much to me to have boats come out and meet me. This is such a beautiful spot. My wife and I will spend a week here just chilling out, with no sailing!”

Link to original article: South African Donald Alexander 23rd in Class40

“Cest Bon” – Trials aboard Class40 DRAGON

Michael Hennessy DRAGON Class40 position on tracker — Michael Hennessy DRAGON Class40

"The top French skippers, particularly those with a Figaro background, never reveal when they have had an issue, never betray a weakness. At some point their mentors must take them aside and say "Francois, even if a Kracken is swallowing your boat, simply smile and say 'cest bon'". I mean look at Armel. His boat flips over in the middle of a howling storm and when he gets picked up the pictures show a guy without a hair out of place.

Not me. I am an open book. One with short chapters and large print. I share my toils and troubles, foibles and failures, all in the interest of education and entertainment.

So remember yesterday morning? You were all drinking coffee and reading my poetic celebration of a successful night of dealing with nasty cumulus squall clouds by the romantic light of the moon? That was sweet, wasn't it? Buckle up, butter up. Tonight had a completely different outcome.

Same setting. Deep down wind and hustling through the Saragaso Sea in search of a rhum. Big, towering cumulus clouds everywhere, a mine field of them. Each with the same plan. One reef in, two ballast tanks of water, ease sheets, dive deep and ride it out.

So I am stuck in one of those nasties for almost an hour. I caught the back of it as it crossed me left to right, and I was moving only slightly slower than it, so it was taking forever to get out of it. These beasties have their own local impact on wind, making lots more of it and twisting it which has the effect of pushing me more west than I would like to be. Sitting in the cockpit, watching wind puff up towards 25 knots, the pilot twitching like mad to keep it going straight and all the while headed away from the rhum. So altogether a frustrating experience and one where you are always in the edge of a bad wipe out.

If only a wipe out were the outcome this past night. Instead, as I making little deals with pagan gods to let the wind drop by 7 knots and twist back 30 degrees - they answer with a chortle. Which sounded a lot like a "BANG".

All of a sudden the boat slows and the world pauses. I look up and the top of the spinnaker is floating forward away from the boat, the sail folding and rippling like a fresh top sheet being snapped over your bed by your mom right before she makes you cinnamon toast. Beautiful, really. Peaceful too, in this quiet "world is paused" sort of way.

Then the spinnaker, after 2,000 straight miles of hard and faithful work, is in the water and coming alongside the boat which is still moving at 6 knots of speed even with this new sea anchor holding it back.

My first thought was "Huh, I am going to need some help dealing with that". My second thought was, "Rats. Guess that is not gonna happen. This solo thing is overrated".

The next 40 minutes were a pain filled blur. Try to pull in the 183 square meter spinnaker, realize that no amount of fitness training is going to enable that to happen. Try to drop the main to slow the boat. Not happening with the main pinned to the spreaders and unable to fall. So put boat head to wind. Now the spinnaker is not only filled full of water, it's under the boat. Comtemplate cutting it all away. Flinch at the price tag, and remember that race rules prohibit us from littering. So... crawl out on the sprit and blow the tack. Now the sail is behind the boat, attached only by the sheets. Grind in the sheets to bring the sail close to the boat. Haul it on board, hand over painful hand. Determine that I need to add hand strength exercises to my workout routine. Get the sail on board. HOLY FRIJOLES THAT WAS. DIFFICULT.

Now I have to get moving. It's been almost 50 minutes of letting Audi and Compagne de France gain on me. Get the solent rolled out and boat moving. Hoist main. Drink 3 liters of water.

So I am back in business and still have a kite. I repack it, run the tapes twice. Miraculously, there seems to be only one small tear in the leech tape. Examination of the sock, now off the kite, reveals that halyard has broken, 6" from the shackle. .

I am moving, but not at top potential because I need some daylight to clear a sheet tangled in my rudder and figure out what halyard I can hoist the next sail on.

And in the meantime I comb my perfect hair and practice saying "cest bon".

Notes from other competitors: “Life in the Storm”

Logbook entry from Mikael Ryking on Class40 boat Talanta

Report #5 from Talanta/ Ryking Ocean Racing in the Route du Rhum

Yesterday was a calm and nice day and I was just about to write a post about life in the storm. But the writing was overtaken by an event… The linear drive of the autopilot stopped working and Talanta accidentilly tacked just after I passed in front of a large cargo ship. Felt a bit stupid, they had just changed their course to avoid collision with me and then I tack… Like I could have done 30 minutes earlier. But I guess from the manuevres after they understood something wasn’t completely right!

Anyway, the broken linear drive cost me seven hours of standing still. The secondary linear drive was also broken as before the start everything on the to do list was overtaken by event – like the new main sail, the wind transducers and the engine. But the primary drive unit was new in June this year and had only made one transat – seems like Raymarine linear drive Type 2 has got a substantially lower quality these days. So after taking working parts from both linear drives I could make one working!

So, back to yesterdays mission of telling about life in the storm. The Doors singing Riders on the stom is going on in my head, just like it did last year when Irina and I set the transatlantic world record Bermuda to Plymouth. That time seriously worse conditions were prevailing and this is only a small piece of the starter on that menu. But still, same song singing in my head.

It may be hard to really undertand the conditions. Boat is bouncing up and down, to the right, to the left, forth and back. I made a sandwich at one point. Must have looked like a spider, standing on my knees with legs and arms in all directions to hold on. Each 15 to 30 seconds I’m lifted from the floor. Ok, I take out one piece of bread. Put it on the engine box. But the engine box does not behave like the kitchen table at home. This one is rocking and the sandwich does not intend to stay on it. Ok, I put one hand to hold the sandwich. The other hand I’m trying to get the butter out of the butter box. But then I need a hand to hold also the butter box, so one finger on the sandwich and two finger for the butter and other hand for the knife. Using arms and body to keep myself in the same position. Finally, a few minutes later a lovely sandwich was ready to be eaten!

“…will this brake you down and praying on your knees? No! I’m going down on my knees to make sandwich – not to pray for mercy!”

The banging of the hull into the waves makes a terrible noise and also things falls apart. There’s a hatch under the navigation table that lost its place. Some electronics hanging down and I go under the nav table to fix before all electronics being ripped out. Tool box is now under my face and then a very rough wave hits the boat and I am totally face planted hard into the tool box… Now the reader may imagine myself looking up with screw drivers and spanners pointing in all directions from my face and head, but it never went that bad. Only a severe nose blood and a cut in my lip… ??

Tons and tons of water is flushing over the boat and some of it comes into the aft compartment of the boat. For some reasons the bilge pump (which has a smart hose I can take anywhere needed in the boat) doesn’t pump properly anymore. So I need to crawl back with a bucket. Boat is doing 12 to 15 knots outside, bouncing in the seas and then I fill the bucket and crawling backwards out again. Waves slams onto the hull, which propagates to the bucket which then makes the water inside shoot right up into my face. Very nice, very appreciated… No, not at all. 20 buckets later the aft compartment is dry. For a short time. Then it begins again.

So the reason why I pulled out sailing south east two days ago was to save the boat from too hard banging into the waves. Talanta is like a war machine, she takes unbelievably lot – so far only small issues. But I try to not find the level where bigger things happen. Of course this has made me fall down in the ranking, but this was needed. Yesterday morning wind finally started to drop and I was out of the storm. Now heading south for the trade wind. But then the autopilot broke… And stood still for seven hours.

Today I was supposed to have a nice north westerly wind, giving me a nice ride to south west. I sailed well into the new wind and then I could finally relax. Had a good night with loads of sleep. But then in the morning…. A hole in the wind found me and my boat! This is the worst that can happen a sailor. No wind and big swells! Like a real hard core mental test that Mother Nature puts you on!! She’s saying – how about this, will this brake you down and praying on your knees? No! I’m going down on my knees to make sandwich – not to pray for mercy! ?? I’m looking forward to get out of this in a few hours time, and then at some point – who knows who knows who knows – I just go where the trade wind blows! Last sentence is from a song by Proteje – just awesome reggae! (if you want a nice reggae list you’ll find one on my public Spotify)

Take care of each other and stay safe!

#rdr2018 #itsallaboutthechallenge #nogutsnoglory #rykingoceanracing
#trueheading #dematek #batagent #cmhammar #gransegel #searchmagazine #efoy
#fjällmansjuridik

Notes from other competitors: “The Mental Game”

Skipper Boris Herrmann’s logbook post from the other day gives some insight into the experiences – mental and physical – that these offshore sailors face each day.

10/11 - 22h53
"Wishing for no bad surprises" - Boris Herrmann
Back home in hamburg it has already been dark for 3 hours and cold. Winter, which I have just escaped I realise. Since this morning I have been wearing shorts and bare feet. Another quick sunset of the low latitudes - compared to home.

I see a purple lens cloud to the North in an otherwise clear sky with hazy horizons. It’s the island Santa Maria off the Azures.
I have never been there but would like to. I imagine it is green and quiet with untouched nature.

I have barely seen any birds so far during this trip but when I do I enjoy it. When the wind was up I had some kind of mini Albatros or a kind of storm bird showing up for half an hour. Gliding elegantly behind the boat through the massive long seas of maybe 6 meters. It was a short instance of glory.

Many moments these last few days remind me of my most intense sailing I have done: the 8 month round the world with Felix some years ago. I had found at sea some kind of inner peace that is so precious and hard to come by on land, or in general, when at sea.
We had hundreds of miles separation and up to 40 days at sea allowing us to plunge into a particular rhythm. I remember two cases: in the big south - observing Albatrosses behind the boat and the south Atlantic going back north emerging from the cold - feeling the first warmth again. I remember this moment in moderate light breeze the sun directly from behind with the dots of light wandering smoothly around the inside of the boat with every one of her movements. I took note of things differently, when brewing coffee for us, it was like I was smelling it for the first time. We were listening to Barbara and saying nothing. We were just about to descend from our biggest adventure, the south, on a small boat, the rounding of Cape Horn and we were in the lead (later we lost the lead 45 mins before the finish in Brazil in a thunderstorm!)

The mind can always be occupied with something on a boat: should I change to the bigger/smaller sail? Is the wind turning as I expected? Am I fast enough? Where am I gonna end up in the ranking? Am I loosing or gaining? Am I in the wrong spot here? I should check the batteries, the motor, how much diesel is left, clean the ropes in the cockpit, sponge water from the bilge, repair the broken sensor, the broken rope, in-depth study of the strategy, do some videos and eat better. Finally I should get some rest and then start again at the top of the list over and over again. And even while I am trying to sleep my mind will constantly ask about the race.

With ever changing wind you can never reach 100 percent of perfection in trim and sail choice. You can never stop, it’s an endless quest and I feel very nervous and unsettled thinking about it. Days pass by like an hour and the race so far is just a blur of memory. A fight and struggle. I struggle also with the uncertainty that is always part of the game.

Thankfully, there are possibilities to just let the boat sail sometimes. Like yesterday, when I found this moment just for sunset. Realising that I am not in the storm anymore and conditions are significantly better. I am still upwind with a highly uncertain strategical position - enough reason to be upset but I can for this short moment find peace and disconnect from the race. Surely enough, in a few minutes my mind will start again wandering around the same above questions. Highly obsessed. I seem to find a mood pattern: evening and sunset peace and thankful. Night cool and quiet. Morning lonely and worried. Daytime a bit nervous and a bit obsessed.

This may also have to do with the fact that I started the last 3 days with little catastrophes in the mornings raising my adrenaline so far that it probably took the day to digest. Yesterday in the early morning my satcom didn’t work and I found the electronics compartment under water. Today wind instruments failed and I found myself thrown around in a bouncing foredeck under water in the darkness trying to sort the mast rotation.

Losing both or either the sat com or wind instruments would be a horror for me. Therefore, for the next 24 hours I officially wish for…..no bad surprises! I will gain clarity on the strategy over that period and write about that to you tomorrow. By the way it is about time that a non-French wins the 40 year old French Transat. Alex is sailing an amazing race and I am glad he is set up in such a strong position.
Now it’s time for my evening weather session. Good night and good start of your weekend. Speak tomorrow. Boris

Donald Alexander, 23rd Class40

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