Bang, crash eastward

Dongfeng Race Team leads the upwind slog across the South China Sea in the Volvo Ocean Race

Since setting sail from Sanya on leg four of the Volvo Ocean Race to Auckland yesterday, the six VO65s have found themselves pretty much for the first time in the race upwind in relatively brisk conditions but having to bash into an evil sea. Reports back from the OBRs indicates a filling-loosening ride - just the sort of conditions which may highlight any as-yet unfound weaknesses in their otherwise sturdy VO65s and doubly disturbing in contrast to the lengthy periods of light wind flat water sailing the crews have enjoyed especially on the last two legs. We wonder how many crew are out of action with the 'mal de mer' at present (see Sam Greenfield's great piece below).

With the wind in the northeast, overnight UTC the boats have en masse drifted south of the great circle to Luzon Strait as they cross the South China Sea at 11-12 knots to the next turning mark at the northern tip of the Philippines.

Image below (click to enlarge) courtesy of Expedition and Predictwind

The 'formation flying' we have seen on previous legs is continuing with making the best on port tack the only option at present. The fun and games are set to continue with the wind forecast to build to 30-35 knot , before dropping but and then heading them tonight, the wind fully into the east by tomorrow night UTC. Presumably the wind veering will be the occasion that the teams choose to put in a hitch north to get them past the top of the Philippines. 

Having won 'the hat trick' in Sanya - first to arrive, first to leave with an In-Port race in between - Dongfeng Race Team remains technically out in front, but with less than a mile of advantage over second-placed Abu Dhabi Ocean Racing, in turn three and a half miles ahead of MAPFRE. Sadly Team SCA is already on the back foot, bringing up the rear 7.5 miles off the lead.

Amory Ross reports from Team Alvimedica

It’s an indescribable feeling of nausea that takes hold within the first 36 hours of a rough leg start, a stomach churn so permanent that it makes you incapable of doing anything, at least not well. Your body needs time to acclimate- time that in this case we didn’t supply - and whether you throw up or not doesn’t matter: the group universally feels like crap and it usually lasts until conditions improve.

Your bunk is probably the only place you can calm the onslaught but the reality is you can’t climb in it. There are sails to change, a boat to drive, meals to cook, or a blog to write. Everyone has things to do and you just kind of have to tough it out and remember it always gets better…eventually!

It hasn’t been as bad as we expected though, transiting the South China Sea, but the weather came on quicker than forecasted and we blame that for the shock to the system. 30 knots upwind in a deep and steep wave is uncomfortable but to be fast is another sort of struggle and it’s just not a kind of sailing that we’ve done much of before. There is very little familiarity to fall back on.

But the slamming has eased up for now, a window I’m using to finally put finger to keyboard, and the sun has poked its head out of the clouds. Despite the deeply unsettled feeling in my stomach and the fact I haven’t been able to eat a thing since yesterday’s lunch—it’s easy to see we’re all really happy to be back out here as a team, in the mix and racing towards Auckland!

Sam Greenfield reports from race leader Dongfeng Race Team

Onshore in Sanya I caught wind of Team Alvimedica’s nickname for Pascal Bidégorry, our navigator: Jesus ‘F***ing’ Christ.

Seb Marsset alleged an ability to walk on water during calm spells and pull the boat along, which I’ll testify I never saw myself, from deck or air.

But JfC is resting up this leg, and in his place is former Groupama driver/trimmer Erwan Israel.

And I won’t lie; as we left the dock yesterday without our Rain Man after racking in both a leg and in-port win during the Sanya stopover, I felt just a bit nervous. But that anxiety dissipated as soon as we turned upwind at the mother of Buddha statue, simply because I’ve been too seasick to think about anything racing related for the last 24 hours.

Let me clarify. You don’t have to throw up to be seasick, and seasickness has many ugly heads. I call my particular brand the ‘sea sleeps’; here’s what it’s like: My muscles turn to jello after hours of bracing as the boat falls off wave after wave like a never-ending ride of the tower of terror at Disney.

The very idea of eating makes me nauseous.

Thinking about performing simple acts, like putting on my wet weather gear to go outside and pee, feels squaring off on the starting line of a marathon across the Gobi desert.

But the plus is that I sleep like a gold plated champion no matter where I’m sitting, standing laying down on the boat.

And when I wake up I feel great and then I go eat and take a pee before it starts up again.

Any sailor that tells you they don’t get seasick is full of **it.

I ask Erwan, sitting next to me at JfC’s navigation alter, if he’s ever gotten sea sick. “No, not really.” He says at first. “C’mon, never?” I persist. “Well, when I put on my foul weather gear down below I don’t feel great.”

Bingo. Stage 1 sea sleeps. Charles is sleeping so I decide to introduce Erwan to my daily round of inquisitions.

He’s very approachable and explains that we’re sailing upwind to the Philippines and that for the next 36 hours we’ll have building winds – up to 30 something- knots and bad sea state.

Aka. another 36 hours on the tower of terror I ask how he’s coping with the new job.

“I was really stressed the last evening because of the pressure of being navigator on this Volvo Ocean Race is a lot for me.”

I ask about our position. Erwan shows me that the rest of the fleet is either behind us or to leeward. I’d been too comatose to notice. “But after the first afternoon we were leading and it felt like, phew. The stress was evacuated and now I can enjoy this experience with the crew.”

I let Erwan get back to his calculations and reflect that although we’ve lost our JfC for this leg to Auckland it seems we’ve gained one of his apostles. I’ll let you know if I catch him walking on water.

Matt Knighton reports from on board Abu Dhabi Ocean Racing

Azzam is rocking so violently right now; it’s hard to type a full sentence.

The past 24 hours have undoubtedly been the toughest of the race to date. Since rounding the turning mark at the Buddha yesterday evening the wind on our bow has turned from mild and pleasant to nasty and unrelenting. Unrelenting in that the unpredictability of what is in front of us is overwhelming. There’s no rhythm to the waves.

Throughout the night we’ve only been able to guess at what the sea state looks like. As soon as there is ten seconds of perceived calm water, the boat launches off a wave long enough to make everything free fall down below before slamming with a force that shakes the mast above. It reverberates through the entire hull.

There’s no comfort in knowing the fleet is condensed to 5 miles and we’re all experiencing the same conditions. It only multiplies the probability that one of us will break something. Most of the tactical choices that will determine the leg will happen after rounding the Philippines; right now it’s a war of attrition to see who will make it in one piece.

Sitting in the nav station, Ian just laughed referring to the South China Sea as the “Sea of Certain Breakage”. He would know, in the 2008-09 race both he and Chuny were forced to anchor with their teams in the Philippines after sustaining significant damage.

Pointing to the foreboding dark red in front of us on the weather model, Ian remarks, “When we broke Green Dragon to pieces this was all black – 50 knots with 10m waves!