Why couldn't the race have been like this? That was the question we were all asking as we sped away from Plymouth, spinnaker up, with an ideal passage-making breeze to send us eastwards and home. There was even sunshine and a rainbow overhead.
But it did leave a lump in our throats that, as we were leaving Plymouth Sound, following the disappointment of retiring, we could see the distinctive blue spinnaker of Formidable 3 heading round the Draystone and towards the finish of the Rolex Fastnet race.
We'd actually had a pleasant stay in Plymouth. Once safely moored in Queen Anne's Battery, at the height of the gale that persuaded the majority of the fleet to abandon the race, we'd had breakfast, and a nap, before getting down to the business of sorting out the boat.
We'd got away lightly compared with most: one badly scratched locker door, where the catch had failed during one particularly violent roll, and the door had snagged on the wildly swinging cooker. Also the sliding bench seat had been virtually uprooted when fallen upon by a crew member in the same violent lurch. Apart from that, crew and boat were remarkably and mercifully unscathed.
A quick trip to the chandlery and the screws which had failed to hold the bench were soon replaced by bolts strong enough to ensure it never moved again - and then it was time to join the on-shore party.
We might not have finished the Fastnet, but we were in very good company, and all the retirees naturally gravitated towards the bar, to swap stories. We handed in our tracker, and, rather to our surprise, it was exchanged for battle-flag and polo shirts, just as if we had finished. And then there were fireworks.
Apparently the national firework manufacturers' championship is held annually at Plymouth over two nights. We would have missed it if we'd still been racing. The bar of the Royal Western YC was the perfect vantage point - and the show was mindboggling.
So much that we elected to stay for another night, and watch the second half! (Actually, we decided to wait another day for the weather to settle down, and to generally have a bit of a holiday before we set off home.)
Four of the crew left, keen to get back to the real world, and it was sad to see the team dispersing - but, at the same time, a relief to see relative civilisation returning to the boat, as the piles of bags disappeared, and we were once again neat and tidy.
We bought a few fresh provisions - beer and wine, now we were no longer in racing mode, and salad stuff for a change - but we still had enough food to feed eight for a week, so there was no danger of the remaining four going hungry on the way back.
And we had an epic trip home, with fair winds all the way. Because we were on holiday, we elected not to work watches, but to stop each night for a proper sleep. We were all still tired from the race -- anticipation and preparation, as well as participation, I suppose.
Anyway, we did Plymouth to the Solent in one hit, then carried on to Dover the next day, both long days with early starts and late finishes, but plenty of sunshine and spinnaker work in between. The tide actually dictated a lie-in at Dover, and by then the breeze was freshening again, so the spinnaker sheets came off.
It seemed to make no difference to our speed, and soon we were back in the familiar waters of the Thames Estuary, reflecting on a holiday that had hardly gone as planned.
We were all disappointed that the weather had stopped us achieving our primary objective of finishing the Rolex Fastnet Race, but apart from that, we all agreed, we'd had a far from disappointing time.
We'd learned an awful lot about the boat - all good. We now have every confidence that if we do get the opportunity to take part in the ARC - another long held ambition - she will look after us.
And we'd really enjoyed the hundreds of miles we'd put on the log, the delivery down there, the race itself, as far as it went, and the trip home.
If you judge a holiday by the sense of a break from “real life” that it gives you, this had been one of the best ever. We all felt as if we'd been away from home far longer than the calendar said we had. It really has been “an awfully big adventure.”
