Perhaps this was because Freo (the local name) was hot and dry after so long a period of being cold and wet in the Southern Ocean. More likely, however, my reluctance to leave stemmed from the fact that I was utterly spoiled by my friend and host, Gay, whose home was a mere ten minute walk from where all our boats were docked.
Gay (shown here with her partner Deon on Christmas Day at her sister's home) and I had been planning our activities for this stopover over a full year. Before she and I had the chance to play, however, there was much work on the boats to be done.
Another reason for the long stopover was the excellent facilities at Freo, enabling the Clipper organization to haul all ten boats out of the water into dry dock for a complete inspection at this point in the race, essentially half way around the world. We spent our first week in Freo working on our boats to a level we never had the chance (or facilities) to do before.
Though other crews remained on their boats or in individual hotel rooms around the town, our boat had rented an entire house. It was just down the street from Gay's home so it was also just a short walk to the boat for everyone.
In the evenings, while the other crew would retire to the house or wonder around town, I'd have the luxury of Gay's enthusiasm, energy, and spontaneity to make any moment a celebration of life. While the others might have been staring at a TV with a beer on the couch, we'd play with her dog in the surf and take in the sunset with a gathering of wine, cheese, crackers, and olives spread out in the sand.
There is rest, and then there is rest. Though I certainly don't feel overtaxed by the demands of this circumnavigation, I knew these kinds of moments would stand me in good stead for any of the challenges yet to come.
Work ended Christmas Eve and, after a Christmas morning with Gay's family, we were free to leave on the trip we'd planned for a year: five days in the Margaret River area of Western Australia, a fertile valley amidst this generally arid part of Australia, known for its vineyards and beautiful beaches.
It was a four hour drive down to the cottage Christmas Day. We arrived at dusk. Four kangaroos stared at us blankly from the yard of the bungalow perhaps only 50 yards away. They seemed content with our presence until Gay's dog Zena ambled out of the car.
We spent five days walking the paths of the thick forests, swimming in the river, eating breakfasts in town with views of the surf, or grilling something easy on the porch back at the bungalow. We both brought several books and would spend much of our time reading or simply being. For Gay, it was a heavenly respite from her normal life. For me, it wasn’t not so far out of the norm of my life before the voyage but, here on the heels of those weeks in the Southern Ocean, it was utter peace as well.
We drove back in the pre-dawn hours of the 30th to have me back on board in time for a 10:00 briefing on our pre-race preparation. After two days of work, we were free on the evening of the 31st to have a reasonable New Year's Eve celebration. Committed to slipping lines at 9:30 the next morning for noon publicity parade and the 2:00 p.m. race start, no one did much more than see the New Year in with a drink and a hug and retire for the night.
I didn't even make it that far. Gay, Deon, and I spent the evening having a barbeque in Gay's back yard. In the warm, dry night air with the smell of the nearby wood fire mixing with the scent of the smoking grill and the fragrance of wine beneath my nose, I felt such peace and happiness to be with these good people. My celebration of the New Year ended 90 minutes before it began when, at 10:30 p.m., I chose to remain behind to go to bed while Gay and Deon went to a local party.
The next morning I gave Deon a tour of the boat before we all said our farewells and I settled into being a sailor again.
The race start was eventful. One boat actually hit ours (we had the right of way, they had an inexperienced helmsman at the wheel) moments after the photo below was taken. A quick inspection showed only superficial damage and we chose to not even submit an official protest, which could have caused the other boat to incur a time penalty. We race, yes, but there is a spirit of brotherhood as well. No harm done. Let the race be settled on the water.
The wind died down after the start and so we ten boats spent perhaps 30 minutes creeping up the Swan river in front of the crowds lining the shores on the promise of an exciting yacht race. We limped by, turned around and limped back out into the harbor and out to sea, headed out on Leg 4, the midpoint of which is our homeport, Singapore.
Two days out to sea, I uploaded a video showing the collision (small bump, really) for the Clipper website. A professional videographer was on board for this segment of the race and supplied me with the raw footage. We'd become friends over the months he's been involved in the race and, as we worked together to compile the video, he kept pointing out footage of me that I could use. I had to explain that I'd never hear the end of it if I used footage of myself but conceded in the end to one shot near the end.
You can view this video below.
