The hardest thing - the solitude

Finally - a report from Andrew Wood on his Mini Transat

So sorry for the delay to this final report - I’ve had a tough few weeks just trying to get my head round the fact that it’s really all over! Three years of preparation, unbelievable support from sponsors and friends, many, many miles sailed and now all that’s left to do is write this report and publish the footage. It’s been quite an adjustment.

I left the docks in Madera for the second and final leg of the Mini Transat with mixed feelings; I’ve crossed the Atlantic and even the Doldrums several times before, but never on my own and never in such a small and vulnerable boat as the Open 6.50. I certainly wasn’t scared, but there was an acute awareness of how far these little machines had to take us and just how hard they had to be pushed in order to keep pace with the leading pack.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem with spending time alone, in fact I actually look forward to the luxury of such immersive space away from “it all”. Even when on land, I’m quite happy bumbling about in my own world getting on with my projects and thoughts and so this was never an issue at departure. The biggest worry was how would I get to do it again when it was all over!?

So with these thoughts and questions combined with determination to make up the lost places on leg one, we pushed over the start line and off into the open Atlantic Ocean in a light upwind breeze, finally some good conditions for my boat. The Rogers design is fantastically versatile in many conditions due to its sliding keel, but there is no doubt that it excels in upwind conditions and up until now, the entire race had been 100% downwind!

So for the first 40 or so hours I was in the top five and rising, this was a real boost to the confidence, especially to be closing on the familiar red topped sails of leader Yves le Blevec. By the end of Day two, the pack were very definitely split into three camps - those to the east who were hunting the stronger winds nearer the coast of Africa, those like myself who stuck to the rhumb line and those who went west in order to catch a possible early wind shift.

I went straight for a few reasons; primarily the forecast was fairly ambiguous. All we needed to do was push through a blob of undulating high pressure that could do basically anything it felt like, too risky in my opinion to go west for a shift that might or might not happen. Secondly, and this was less decision more obligation, I had suffered from a serious keel oscillation problem in leg one when Domosofa hit around 17 knots. This meant I had to try and keep out of the worst acceleration zones associated with the Canary Islands, a real blow (excuse the pun) as this is the Rogers' second strong point - strong downwind with big seas.

In the end, I passed to the west of the Canaries a little closer than intended which gave me a short burst of acceleration winds, followed by a soul destroying 12 hours of contrary winds from the south! I must have fallen into a weird back eddy from the islands, but whatever it was, all I knew was that we were making four or five knots VMG while the rest of the fleet were flying at 14!

I was now depressed. I lost maybe 15 places in one day and it took me a further three days to get out of that depression. It was actually the most difficult part of the race for me, all I could think was that I was letting people down, my sponsors had put so much unquestioning faith in me and I was about to let them down!

It was at this point that I realised singlehanded sailing with no communications is not so much difficult due to the lack of sleep or even that you have to do everything yourself, its because there is nobody but yourself to motivate you or pull you out of a low spot, nobody to say... ‘hey, don’t worry, there’s 2,000 miles to go, we’ll catch the bast@rds!’ So from this point on, I just went into a kind of preservation mode, ‘Just sail straight, look after sh!t and get the job done’.

And that’s exactly what I did. After staying on one gybe for too long due to an incorrect forecast that consistently announced a northerly shift that never happened, I just ignored the forecasts and VMG sailed towards my Doldrums waypoint.

With no real-time weather data available, the Doldrums are quite simply a lottery. They are constantly ‘boiling’ and on the move. Averagely, they are wider to the east and start to become progressively narrower the further west you cross. But, if you cross too far west, then you will end up being too hard on the wind when you finally pass into the southerly trades, too far east and you can be stuck there for days.

As it happens, the rhum line between Brazil’s west coast and Madeira crosses the Doldrums in what is generally considered a safe average spot to transit, so that’s where I was aiming. As I arrived, it seemed that everybody had the same idea, so we all had a VHF radio party for the three days it took us to pass through this area of light and variable winds.

One of the biggest dangers with the ‘Pot au Noir’ as the French call it, is being caught out by the squally rain clouds which can bring winds of 30+ knots, this is particularly dangerous at night when you can’t see them coming. If you can hook yourself into one though, it can be an express ticket out.

Finally on the third day, a gentle but steady breeze filled in from the south, and I started to set the boat up for the long port tack down to the Brazilian coast. I had gained myself a few places during the Doldrums including Thomas Ruyant who was sailing Jonathan McKee’s old boat, another Rogers design. It was really interesting and quite elating to see that during both legs all three Roger’s designs had very much the same sort of pace.

The wind from the equator on should start to ease from southeast towards east, but for me and I think most of the fleet, we were quite hard on the wind right up to the coast. I only managed to fly my gennaker for a couple of days close to the finish line, and eventually the wind died on me completely! It’s always the way -you count down the miles, then the last few take the longest.

I ended up crossing the finish line 22nd proto with a time of 20d 9h 54m 21s. My overall ranking for the two legs was 24th with a time of 27d 0h 37m 01s.

My target for the transat was top 15, so I am more than a little disappointed with the result, but it must be added the pace and level of competition for the 2007 was the highest it has ever been. As an example, in 2005 GBR 500 raced the Mini Transat finishing 16th with a time of 28d 5h 45m 04s, over 24h slower than me. Of course this could be misleading as conditions can vary enormously, but up till now, the 2005 Transat was fastest ever, it does give an idea of the increase in pace.

So, as I sign off for the time being, I just want to say a really massive thanks for all the support I’ve received over the last three years from friends, sponsors, family and the media. There is no doubt that without this, I would not have been able to compete in this fantastic race. Thank You.

I have posted two videos of my transat which can be viewed if you go to Youtube.com and search for solochallenges.