Freeze Dried Dreams

Every ocean race is scenic in its own way. The Transatlantic has the vast ocean. Bermuda has the dramatic color changes as you cross the Gulf Stream. They are pretty to be sure but Rolex Middle Sea is unique in our experience. The sheer beauty of the Island of Sicily and the associated out islands is really hard to describe. The water is deep right to the shore and it draws you in. We have sailed hard by little fishing villages and soaring cliffs. Dramatic lighthouses winking their warning as you sail by close enough to nearly touch them. 

Larry writes eloquently about the complexities of our sailing routes and the navigational challenges; of which there are many on a course like this. I have been chosen as the lifestyle reporter today which I suspect is a dubious honor. When asked about distance racing, I am always asked two things: what do you eat and how do you sleep?

First we eat freeze dried food to save weight and for simplicity. Water is very heavy so we make our own from seawater and then Collette sets about boiling it on our camp stove in a huge pot. With these modest tools she produces Mexican chicken, beef stroganoff, chicken teriyaki, and lasagna. These are names only as the real differentiator is color. In the morning everyone’s favorite is breakfast skillet. It is amazing the vast quantities of this extremely modest fare our young guns Scotty and Lucien can consume. It really is inhuman. They eat it morning, noon and night. They mix the leftovers together with hot sauce, ketchup and god knows what. 

For sleeping, we all share bunks. Yep…it’s as unappealing as it sounds. Collette, Tery and Larry because of their uneven schedules get their own, which I guess is fair. There is a hierarchy in bunks and as a watch captain and owner, I get a good one. Tim Keyworth is my bunk mate and a better one I could not have. He even leaves a chocolate on my pillow after my evening watch.The combination, however, of freeze dried food and interrupted sleep patterns produces two side effects: crazy dreams and gas. I won’t belabor the second. You get it. Closed up boat, 14 men. The dreams, however, are an endless source of conversation. I always say dreams are like mix tapes; no one wants to hear yours but out here once you have run through every line in nearly every movie (Talladega Nights is a huge favorite), other people’s dreams do take on a certain level of interest. Scotty in particular has an exceptionally unique dream cycle that can be both enormously amusing and slightly disturbing at the same time.  

We are sailing though and that takes priority. Everyone says this race has a “bit of everything”. To which we nod knowingly and say you have to be prepared. Well it really does. We have had less than zero wind to the point where driving a nail into your skull with a hammer would be more fun. We have had some gorgeous sailing in 15 knots jib reaching thru the islands. Last night we had a hard beat in 20 knots of breeze with our (gasp) foul weather gear on. 

As I write we are approaching Lampedusa Island off the coast of Tunisia. It is the foothold to Europe that many of the migrants from North Africa and beyond try to reach in search of a better life. Sadly many don’t make it. We just saw a patrol boat out on the horizon and it doesn’t escape me the juxtaposition of us racing by in expensive yachts with so many, so nearby in desperate straits. 

We press on. As night gets ready to fall, for the third time we are fighting for a podium position. Larry has put us in the right spots, the wind Gods have smiled on us more than they have frowned, the crew has sailed well and Ricky Bobby has kept us motivated. We can nearly see Malta and a few malt beverages but first another long night of freeze dried dreams.

A Busy and Productive Overnight

It is a beautiful morning on the Tyrrhenian Sea.  We are abeam of

Palermo and well on our way to Capo St. Vito, which is 40 miles ahead. 

We have covered 84 miles of the leg from Strombolio to Capo St. Vito

since our last post.

It was a busy and productive overnight.  We began the leg in a 10 not

easterly with the A2 up sailing just north of the rhumb line at 9-10

knots boat speed.  As some of us settled down to sleep, the on watch

was kept busy as we progressed through a variety of wind conditions,

each prompting a change in headsail.  First we put up the spinnaker

staysail to add a little horsepower. A short while later the wind shifted

right and built a bit, so down came the A2 and SS and up went our

fractional code zeroor FRO.  As the wind continued to veer right and

drop so we took down the FRO and put up a J1, our light air job.  At

about 4am local, as the watches were changing the wind had built to

13-15 knots out of the southwest.  Overpowered in these conditions we

downshifted changing headsail to our J2.  At 6am, with the wind having

backed and dropped below 10 knots, we changed headsails again

striking the J2 and hoisting the J1. 

For those of you keeping score at home that is A2 to A2/SS to J1 to J2 to

J1.  Four headsail changes in 7 hours.  Just before settling down for the

night we had talked through the wind forecast so we were ready for the

progression of changes in wind speeds and directions.  But, being ready

is one thing.  Shifting gears like that on a dark, nearly moonless night, is

another.  The high spirited and amazingly talented Prospector crew

pulled off each change flawlessly.  As each sail went up the next sail we

thought we would need was readied on deck.  As each sail came down

it was flaked or packed and bagged, ready to go again if necessary.  It all

sounds simple in theory.  In practice it is anything but.  Particularly

when the wind builds and Prospector gets wicked up making just

moving around a major endeavor.  Kudos to our watch captains, Paul

and Tim and our bow men Matt and Stuart, for a flawless performance.

All that work paid off.  We deliberately stayed a bit further north of the

rhumb line than our gang of eight, thinking there would be a bit more

wind further offshore.  That turned out to be a good decision.  Added

together with the stellar crew work we reeled the gang of 8 back in. 

They have been going slower in lighter air trying to work down to our

line throughout the early morning hours.  We have halved their leads

over us.  We have also legged out on the smaller boats behind us,

benefiting from stronger winds and our longer waterline.  We are now

4th in class and 11th in fleet.  Big steps in the right direction.

We are just getting out of what we hope will be the last patch of light

air for the race.  As we reach the northwest corner of Sicily and turn

southeast to Pantellaria we expect the wind to build into the high

teens/low twenties.  Prospector conditions.  Hopefully we can keep

moving up the leaderboards.

Hot late news flash.  While this blog was being written and the crew

finished up their favorite breakfast, freeze dried breakfast skillet a la

Colette, enjoyed on deck in the bright morning sun we got latest sked 

and learned we are now 4th in both IRC2 and IRC overall.  We still have

just over half the race to go, so it is way too early to get too excited

about a result.  But it still feels pretty good.

Game on!

From The Deck of Prospector 18 October 2300Z

What the Wind Gods Give, the Wind Gods Take Away

We are just settling in for the night having just passed the volcanic 

island of Stromboli off the north east corner of Sicily.  The weather 

today was beautiful and the scenery spectacular (check out Instagram 

for some photos).  Sailing was a bit of a mixed bag.  The wind was up 

and down, right, left and sideways.  It shifted through all 360 degrees of 

the compass, with speeds from 2-12 knots.  Sometimes we looked like 

heroes.  At other times we were clearly goats.  

We left the Straits of Messina in almost the same position in the fleet as 

we entered it toward the back of the pack of 8 boats, 12 miles behind 

our class leader and 6 or so miles behind the rest of the pack.  

Rambler88 has begun to show her stuff and is legging out from the rest 

of the fleet.  Pressing up behind her is Momo, the 72 foot mini maxi.  

Then comes our gang of 8.  

But that summary of the beginning and end of our journey along Sicily’s 

eastern shore and the toe of the boot of Italy obscures the real story of 

the day.  In between we had a stretch where the wind gods smiled on 

us and we clawed our way to the front of our gang of 8.  We worked 

hard as we sailed passed the historic Sicilian coastal city of Syracuse to 

get close up along the beach to take advantage of the land breeze 

triggered by the night time cooling of Mt. Etna, which we now know 

thanks to Tim Keyworth’s research is the highest peak in Europe south 

of the Alps, and the sea breeze we expected to develop during the day 

today.  

It got crazy.  Our gang expanded and contracted on the course with 

each zephyr.  Last became first and first became last depending on 

where and when the wind decided to touch down.  At one point we 

were on the outside of a group of three boats, with Varuna on the 

inside and Mascalzone Latino in the middle.  We were all ghosting along 

side by side on the same tack within 150 feet of each other.  After 30 

minutes sailing along like this things changed in a sudden and 

unpredictable way.  Both we and Varuna, lost the wind and slowed 

down, putting our bows down and heading to the left.  Mascalzone, on 

the inside, amazingly got a puff of wind and sped up and turned its bow 

up to the right and pulled away from us.  We sat and marveled, stewed 

actually, that the wind got to the middle of the three boats in the line 

and neither of the other two.  As Mascalzone pulled away, we then had 

to sit and watch as the wind found its way to Varuna and they too took 

off on us.  

As we licked our wounds and wondered why the wind gods had 

abandoned us so harshly, we began to focus on our next challenge, 

getting through the Straits of Messina.  Well into the morning it looked 

like we would get to the Straits in time to have a favorable current push 

us through.  As morning turned to afternoon and the wind got light any 

hope of that disappeared.  We know had to focus on getting through 

the Straits in light air and foul current, or corrente in Italian.  We and 

our gang abandoned the beach in Sicily and headed across the Straits 

for the beaches of Italy.  Here again we were treated shabbily by the 

wind gods as the boats in front of us and to our right benefited from 

stronger winds at better angles.  We thought about petitioning the jury 

to waive the rules on outside assistance so we could order some pizza 

to pick up as we sailed along the jetties of several towns to console 

ourselves but thought better of it.

So that is the how we came to find ourselves in almost the same 

position as we sailed away from Messina as we were in at Cap Passero.

We passed Stromboli after dark, disappointed that the rumors of its 

peak glowing orange against the night sky were untrue.  We are sailing 

downwind to the west on a 124 mile leg to Capo St. Vito on the 

northwest corner of Sicily.  It promises to be a quiet night as we trundle 

on down the track.

We are 5th in our class of 9 and 25th in our fleet of 111.  We are happy 

with our performance in conditions that don’t really suit our big girl.  

The forecast ahead promises stronger winds and a more upwind work.  

Prospector loves those conditions.  We are not far out of second in our 

class, with skill and luck we might pull off a podium finish in our IRC2 

class.  We might be able to top finish in the top 10 in the overall IRC 

fleet which at the moment is being dominated by the smaller boats 

who carried more wind with them to Sicily as the bigger boats were 

first to get in to the lighter winds along the coast.

L. Moore photo credit

Utterly Becalmed 

We are a painted ship on a painted ocean as the saying goes. Not a breath of wind. The good news is that we are among the leaders who at this point should be miles and miles ahead like Wild Joe, Varuna and Mascalzone Latina. We can see the mini maxi Momo. All of us are parked up underneath the breathtakingly beautiful Mt Etna as we claw our way towards the straights of Messina. So the scenery and the company is good and it’s not even really hot yet. 

But I have leapt ahead. 

All of us arrived in Malta in good form and Thursday was spent getting used to Valletta. We had two fabulous local chefs who prepared a fantastic crew dinner at our flat (see we are already talking Euro). We all then decamped to the Royal Malta Yacht Club for the crew party which turned out to probably the best regatta party your correspondent has ever attended. When we arrived at about 10pm the band was just winding down and we all hopped around and shouted for them to continue a bit sad the party was winding up. What we didn’t know, us innocents abroad from New York and New England, was this was the Med and the party was just getting going! Little more than 10 minutes later a new, better, louder band complete with dry ice jumped on the stage and started pumping out the music. The place filled up with incredibly stylish Europeans and it felt like it was going to go all night. And maybe it did but discretion being the better part of valor, we withdrew before we could do something stupid.

The next day was predictably a bit slow in the morning. We got out sailing about midday Friday and were lucky to get Claire and Toni to come with us. While the wind was light, it was spectacular to motor out and around the ancient walled city of Valletta with its soaring fortress walls spilling down to the impossibly blue sea. We are a long way from Dering Harbor. 

Coming back to the quay which is actually pronounced key but really means dock, Tery shifted into reverse and revved the engine which produced a lot of noise but no visible propulsion. A quick look through the window in the hull revealed that the prop had spun off. Not a good thing. With the benefit of a little zephyr and Tery’s skilled driving, we managed to make it back to the quay. Now the treasure hunt began for a new propeller at 4pm, on a Friday, in Europe.  Panic, or at least mild concern had set in, as we had 19 hours to our start and no prop, no race.  Rules are rules.

Undaunted, Team Prospector, as always, rose to the occasion.  Divers were dispatched to hunt for the old one, phone calls were made to Italy, England and even the US to see if could get one flown over. Our rattle trap rental car made the rounds of the ship chandlers. We toured the boat yard looking for potential donors and began to consider liberating one from a boat in the boatyard. 

In stepped the kindness of strangers. In short order we had not one prop but four.  A three bladed version that fit, was installed.  But it would slow us down. Meanwhile at the YC for the skippers meeting, Larry worked the crowd like a politician hunting for votes and voila!   Just after we got the jury to agree to give us ratings relief if we had to go with the fixed prop, a lovely member of the Malta YC told us we could have the folding prop off of her boat which was out of the water. Told her husband had already declined to lend it to us, she airly waved her hand and said: “I own half the boat, you can have the prop.”   Mille Grazi Amata!!!.  Taking yes for an answer, the prop was procured and fitted early Saturday just in time for the race.

The start was a scene in the narrow confines of Valletta harbor with thousand (and no you didn’t read that wrong) of spectators lining the fort walls to watch us depart. For once we were glad for light winds as the maneuvering was tight with boats from Malta, France, England, Croatia, Italy, Hungary and Russia to name a few vying with us few Americans for space. Pictures are the only thing that can do it justice.  

Spurred on by the load cheers from our shore team on the Valetta Saluting Battery, we got a decent start and were on our way to Sicily. Shortly after we cleared we began to pass the slower boats who had started earlier. As we ground above a Croatian entry and threatened to block his wind, the driver began gesticulating wildly for us to go below so he could block our wind. That didn’t seem to be a great idea and we declined. That only seemed to incense him more and he began shouting. Your correspondent politely, but firmly, told him “we are not going below you”. This evidently shocked him and he shouted “F**** You”. Being from New York we weren’t too offended as we often use the phrase with deep affection as in “I F***ing love you bro.”

We had a good first night in light but at least present wind. The weather was beautiful and we seem to have the old girl both moving well and with Larry’s help, in the right spot. But now what? We sit and we wait for the wind…and it’s starting to get hotter.

The Prospector crew has gathered once again, this time in Malta, for the Rolex Middle Sea Race which starts on Saturday, October 17th.  Prospector has been in Malta since early September after a 12 day delivery from Portsmouth after the Fastnet Race, or the Slownet Race as the Prospector crowd now calls it. 

The Rolex Middle Sea Race is a 608 mile classic that starts in Malta and goes counter clockwise around Sicily and finishes back in Malta.  The start is in the historic old harbor of Valletta, between the ramparts of the Saluting Battery and Fort St. Angelo.  After the harbor start, the course turns to port (left) and heads northeast to Sicily.  Leaving Sicily to port (at this point lets just say that Sicily will always be to the port/left) the course heads north passing through the Straits of Messina, then passing the (active!) volcanic island of Stromboli.  At Stromboli the course turns left to the west past the Aeolian Islands to the Egadi Islands including Levenzo and Favignana on Sicily’s northwest corner.  From there the course makes a sharp left to a southerly heading down the strait between Sicily and Tunisia, leaving the Africa to starboard – the right this time - and the islands of Pantelleria and Lampedusa to port.  At Lampedusa the fleet goes northeast back towards Malta, through the South Comino Channel (with Malta to starboard/right and Comino to port/left) before making a final turn toward the finish in the Marsamxett Harbor.

The weather for the race will be dominated by the varied geography and topography that surrounds the course; on a large scale by Europe and Africa, and on a smaller scale by Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily and the Italian Peninsula.  Unlike the Transatlantic which was pretty much a straight shot with a few wiggles, this course has a lot of corners and frequent changes in wind and weather.  The crew’s gonna be busy with a lots of sail changes, probably using every single sail on board – and that’s a lot of sails!

Based on the present forecast, we should (hopefully) finish in three to four days. 

There’s a lot of information, some cool videos and a race tracker on the race website:

www.rolexmiddlesearace.com

or on our website, www.prospectorsailing.com at:

http://www.prospectorsailing.com/racetracking/

or on the Yellowbrick website at:

http://yb.tl/rmsr2015

Yellowbrick tracking is also available on the race website, or through the Yellowbrick app on iPhones, iPads or Android devices:

http://www.rolexmiddlesearace.com/tracker/ - pt

We will, as usual, post updates on our blog at:

http://www.prospectorsailing.com/latestnews

And photos on:

http://www.prospectorsailing.com/photo/

We are also on Facebook and Instagram from the links on our web page.

Finally we need to make a special shout out to the team chef/angel Colette, who

has stuck with Prospector on every single race and delivery.  Bless you Colette!

We hope you follow us along on our latest adventure.