After all those months of preparation, hundreds of miles of qualifying races, not to mention the enormous expense of equipping the boat - and the hours spent by various members of the crew in their respective kitchens, cooking wonderful food to eat en route, it is absolutely gutting to have to report that we have retired from the Rolex Fastnet Race.
The decision to retire was a very difficult one to take. In fact the boat was coping with the severe weather fantastically well. The crew was working hard to keep her going fast, and we were actually doing reasonably well in the race, according to the tracking information on the RORC website. We also had the confidence that comes with an extremely well-found boat and all the very best safety equipment.
The problem in those conditions is not sailing the boat, but coping with the everyday realities of life: cooking, making hot drinks, dressing and undressing at watch changes, and not least going to the loo! Tim, who was doing a magnificent job helming through the darkest part of the night, as wind and waves built dramatically, confessed that he had no idea how he was going to take his contact lenses out.
If it was going to be a single storm, it wouldn't have been a problem: we were travelling rapidly west, and the weather system was travelling rapidly east, and we would soon have come out on the other side. Meanwhile, several miles south of Start Point, we had tons of searoom. The problem was that early in the morning a new forecast appeared on the Navtex promising that the southerly gale propelling us along the English coast was about to be replaced with a northerly gale in the Western Approaches.
Not only would we have to beat against strong winds all the way to the Fastnet rock - another 24 hours or more without much in the way of home comforts - but the sea would be appalling: the huge seas whipped up by the southerly winds crossed by new waves building from the north, creating conditions like a washing machine - or a concrete mixer, according to different members of our crew.
According to the rules of the race, we could have holed up in port until the weather settled to something more to our liking, but we could not see that happening for a couple of days, and by then we would all be running out of time to get back to work. So we had to face the inevitable.
It's a lonely decision for a skipper to have to make - and naturally it was unpopular with some members of the crew (but rather better received by the veteran element, who accepted it was the seamanlike thing to do). But it began to seem utterly justified as we listened to the safety traffic on the VHF during the three-hour run into Plymouth after it was taken.
Numerous fellow competitors were calling the coastguard with tales of dismastings and injuries. I told our chief mutineer I thought that if the skipper's decision had prevented any of us returning with a split head (or worse still an MOB, as suffered by at least one boat - fortunately they managed to get him back) it was entirely justified. He had to accept that.
And the decision appeared altogether less lonely when we arrived in Queen Anne's Battery Marina and found it already packed with fellow Fastnet competitors, Rolex flags still flying defiantly but bow stickers mainly washed away by the waves.
We were apparently the 70th boat to retire (out of 300) and as the morning wore on, more and more boats came in, at least one with an expensive carbon rig severed at the spreaders, and some stretchering crew ashore to waiting ambulances. Discretion definitely began to seem the better part of valour!
It will be interesting to see just how many boats finally finish the race. Good luck and congratulations to all that do. But what the 2007 Fastnet race has shown is just how much things have changed since the 1979 Fastnet, when a (rather more severe) storm decimated the fleet with tragic loss of life.
Weather forecasting has improved beyond measure. Many boats can go on line and keep up to date with the very latest grib files. Most others have Navtex, which is a vast improvement on the Shipping Forecast (not least because it adds another 24-hour outlook to the end of the Shipping Forecast). We had access to information that, had it been available in 1979, might have persuaded competitors to seek shelter before disaster struck.
Equally, the RORC had information that persuaded it to postpone the start of the race for 24 hours, to make sure boats weren't right out in the middle of the Celtic Sea when the storm struck - as was the case in 1979.
We were reminded during the starting sequence on Monday morning that the responsibility for a boat's decision to participate in a race or to continue racing is hers alone.
We took the decision to start, despite online weather forecasts (courtesy of marina wi fi) first thing that morning that suggested “it might not be a goer.”
And it has to be said that the first part of the race was hugely enjoyable. Watching the Open 60s at the start was a treat. The breezy beat down to the Needles Channel in bright sunshine was an unforgettable experience, as class two (where we were) gradually caught up and overhauled class three, and then, in turn was caught and overhauled by classes one, zero and super zero.
The sight of Alfa Romeo and ICAP Leopard match racing down the west Solent, and then going past us as if we were parked (while we were doing ten knots over the ground) was seriously exciting.
And then it stayed sunny for the whole afternoon, as we headed out to sea, with the coastline of the Isle of Wight unfolding behind us. It was absolutely great. Even as the wind filled, and the reefs went in, we were still really enjoying ourselves. Which is why the decision to retire was such a downer.
But talking to everyone at the marina, we've started to feel much better about it. There's unfinished business, and we may well be back for another go in 2009. But in the meantime, we can be glad that our boat and crew are unharmed, and ready to fight another day.
