THE SAHARA DESERT - 3 Marathons in 3 Days

The day had finally arrived and I was on the London tube heading towards Gatwick airport carrying my running rucksack with two empty water bottles conspicuously attached to the front. I was trying to decide how nervous I was when I realised that it still hadn't really sunk in yet.

I arrived at the airport to see lots of other people carrying rucksacks adorned with water bottles. Not a single one of them looked as unfit as I felt! They were all straight off the page of a runners magazine. Thin and muscular with a determined look that comes with the self confidence of long training runs and acclimatization sessions....By comparison I felt fat, unfit and panicked.

Luckily for me, another female runner (Sue) tapped me on the shoulder and we fell into easy conversation whilst we were waiting at the gate. This not only dispelled some of my nerves, but also found me a space in a friendly group of tent mates.

After the flight we were all shepherded into coaches and driven for 3 hours to the first bivouac. I ended up sitting next to an RAF pilot who was also a friend of a friend demonstrating the smallness of this world. The bivouac was exactly how it looked in pictures and I even managed to re-find Sue and we waited together until the other tent mates arrived from the second flight. The tent itself (number 137) was of traditional Bedouin construction consisting of a single black cloth held up by sticks....I huddled into the side to shelter from the cold night.

The toilet arrangements at MDS are not for the faint hearted. You are provided with a brown plastic bag to poo into (which can be done inside a dedicated poo tent for a bit of privacy) but peeing tends to be carried out wherever. On the first day most of the females walked a good few hundred meters away from the camp before squatting for a wee. But by the second evening, the circle of wee had decreased in radius and people even started squatting in groups whilst continuing conversations.

There was an email tent where you could queue up outside (usually for around 30 minute) before being allowed to send one text email to one recipient. This arrangement worked well as my (long suffering) mother was good enough to forward my ramblings on to a number of my friends and family. However, as I discovered, standing in the queue for 30minutes after a day of racing in the desert was really hard!

Day 1:

Lining up at the start was incredible- the atmosphere was positively electric and as they played “highway to hell” we all ran off the start line with helicopters flying over head! After 3km on flat, rocky ground we were faced with 12km of sand dunes. This was hard....Really hard. Four hours of screaming calf muscles, suffocating heat and constant thirst. It was impossible to eat even though it was advised to take 200 calories every hour. I watched flares go off in the distance in all directions and helicopters pass overhead to evacuate lost, injured or dehydrated runners.

After two check points and endless internal battles involving questions of sanity, when to drink, when to slow down, when to speed up, what to think, whether I still had strength to think etc. I eventually made it to the first check point (CP1) and forced myself to eat, check my feet and then move on. After CP2 there were 3km more sand dunes to navigate before I reached day's finish line and the 2^nd bivouac with 2 hours to spare before the cut off time... This still didn't leave me much time to recover and do my personal admin.

I found my tent, added water to my expedition dinner and left it to soak for 10mins whilst I checked my feet again. I then put my trainers back on (which was horrible) and walked to the email tent where I had to stand in line for 30 minutes to send my email update before returning to my tent to spend the night tossing and turning in my sleeping bag: cold, then hot, then up for a wee, then repeat.

0530 soon came around and we all rushed breakfast and admin so that the logistics team could dismantle the tent at 0600hrs. Once again I allowed myself to soak up the inspiring atmosphere of the start line with the concurrent awareness that minutes later I would be fighting an internal battle with my body and mind. Standing at the start we discovered that 27 participants had dropped out after that horrible first day. It was at this point that the realization that I had already accomplished something amazing started to sink in.

At CP1 I noticed that my feet where wrecked....Blood was seeping through the top of my left shoe and I was in agony. I consequently spent 1.5 hours at the medical tent getting my feet looked at by 4 different doctors who all agreed that “this is not good” as they poked my bleeding feet to drain the infection.

By the time I could see the day's finish line ahead of me the light was starting to fade and I knew that I would need to push the last few kilometres. I crossed the line with about an hour to go before the finish line cut off time having fought a nose bleed for the last hour of the race. I later discovered that my poor mother had managed to watch me cross the line on the webcam and recognised me as “the one who asked for tissues”...Great! It was a marathon length “as the crow flies”, but considerably more “as the dunes undulate” and “as Tam zigzags in a haze of dehydration”.

Day 3:

At the start of day 3 we learned that another 30 or so competitors had dropped out. By now I had started to really enjoy the atmosphere at the start line and, although it was weird standing there knowing what you were about to feel like, it was still a real thrill to be there.

Because I had got back so late on day 2, I had only glanced at the route for day 3 before we left. I knew that is was going to be another hard day with three sets of about 3km dunes and one massive climb. However, I wrongly assumed that we had a check point (CP) between each of the dune systems. So, when I set out with only 3litres of water on me, I was in real trouble after the massive climb when I looked at the view from the top only to see a dune system stretching out into the hazy distance and no CP2.

It was unbelievably hot by the time I was in the middle of the second dune system and I had run out of water. The only thing that got me up each dune face was the thought of the slight breeze at the top. I was alone through most of the system as my pace had slowed considerably due to the state of my feet although there were still people behind me. At the top of one of the dunes I had to walk along a thin ridge before I could descend in the correct direction. However I was struggling to aim each step so that my foot would land on the ridge and not on the shifting sand down the side of the dune. After a few steps I blacked out...

Next thing I knew my knee was agony and I was lying about 200m from the top of the ridge at the bottom of the dune. Thank God that the pain in my knee had brought me back around. If I had collapsed there for long I would have been in real trouble because there was no air and no shade down there! Lying at the bottom of the dune felt like I was slowly suffocating and cooking at the same time. I pulled myself up and scrambled up the dune and continued zigzagging up and down the dunes for another hour before finally reaching CP2.

I was asked the standard “C'est va?” and could do nothing but stare in return. When a doctor walked up to me I fell into his arms and was frog marched to the doctors tent where I adamantly refused to be put onto a drip. I stayed for 30 minutes and as soon as I could talk, I stood up and continued on my way.

My pace was depressingly slow, but I refused to believe that I couldn't keep going. I stopped once in the shade of one of the support vehicles for ten minutes and then again when I was stopped by another support vehicle. This support vehicle had followed a trail of blood to find me....I had another nose bleed but I didn't want to stop to find tissues so was just walking on and bleeding into the sand. They stopped me for 20 minutes until I stopped bleeding and they let me keep going.

I arrived at CP3 at 1820hrs and was told that I wouldn't be allowed to continue as the CP cut-off was at 1815hrs. This was news to me. We weren't told about any CP cut-offs. However, I was so numb I just followed instructions blindly. I couldn't process any of it. They took away my bloodied race number and I waited in the doctors tent as I was joined by around 6 others who were behind me and were also told that they were too late to continue. In addition, there were around 8 people at the CP who had pulled out for other reasons.

In retrospect. 5 minutes late, 5km from the finish line and not being allowed to continue really sucks! But, at the time I didn't feel a thing!

We were driven the 5 km back to camp where all our food was taken away from us (so we couldn't share it with our tent mates) and I spent the night next to my new found friends feeling completely numb. In the morning I said my good byes and good lucks and went to the canteen for breakfast where I chatted to other people who had finished the MDS on day 3. Most had fired off their flares in one of the dune systems or pulled out from exhaustion. I was so proud to be one of the few who didn't give up!

At this point we discovered that by the end of day 3, a total of 80 people had finished early. From what I understand, this is a really high number compared to previous MDS years.

We were loaded into 4x4's for a 3hour drive across the desert and then transferred onto a bus for a 2 hour drive to Ouzazarte after a lunch stop in a Kasbah.

At Ouzazarte we were given our bags and abandoned by the side of the road with the option of taking the bus to the MDS hotel. Luckily I had realised that I would be dumped at an overpriced hotel (from talking to my tent mates) so I had spent the bus ride texting our fantastic second mate who organised a hotel for me to stay in for two nights and booked my flight home!

Then I had to get to the hotel. This involved limping along the hot streets until I found a cash point to get some local money and then limping around aimlessly some more until I found a shared taxi (the third driver new where my hotel was). However, I was so was so grateful for this as everyone else had to pay £225 per night and I got to relax in a hotel away from other MDS people knowing that I already had a flight home....

Of course that wasn't the end of my adventure as I took a couple of walks around the town and managed to be the victim of an attempted mugging on the second walk. (A teenager on a bicycle grabbed at my pockets and got hit over the head with a large bottle of sprite that I was holding and left with nothing whilst I ran off up the hill- feet throbbing).

My feet were still hurting when I reached the UK and I discovered that they could be described as: 3 broken toes, 4 toenails waiting to fall off, multiple blisters and both severely infected all through the balls of the feet....whoops. Note to all future competitors- take foot preparation seriously!

As I contemplated my achievement back in the UK and as I continue to reflect back on it now, I am still filled with a great sense of accomplishment. People often say “I'm sorry to hear about your MDS”, but I am really not sorry at all- I couldn't have tried any harder and I am so proud of what I achieved. When I discussed my (lack of) training, non-existent foot preparation and Antarctic acclimatization with fellow MDS runners, they were amazed that I completed the first day let alone three! When people ask me what it was like I simply say: “Amazing”. It was, of course, the hardest thing I have ever experienced in my life, but it was also the most humbling and inspiring thing I have ever done. Past runners always used to tell me that it was “all in your head” once you were there and now I understand what they mean. I just can't describe what goes through your mind when you are that hot, that exhausted and that close to collapse and still having to force yourself on through burning sand and suffocatingly dry air.

I know that I have come out of the desert a better person than I entered. It gave me a perspective on my physical and mental efforts that I couldn't have got anywhere else. Also, through noting the things that were going through my mind during the race, I have an idea of what is really important to me and what I need to do to move on with my life.

Next I will be sailing STS Lord Nelson from Uruguay to Brazil, then onwards, and upwards because Peter Pan was right:

Life is a very big adventure...

Antarctica on a Tall Ship

It always takes time to settle into a new crew, but it was particularly noticeable after such a long voyage when the crew had become really tight. This change made for a different atmosphere in the Upper Mess and was a great refresher after 2 months at sea.

We are really lucky to have our two “extra deck officers. One is the famous Skip Novak, who will be the Expedition Leader and is an absolute Antarctic legend, and the other is “Piles”, who is an old JST employee who now works as full time Mate for the National Geographic Polar cruise ship. So, we have lots of local knowledge on board! Piles and Skip will be working together to help us stay safe and protect the delicate Antarctic environment as we travel south and land on the continent.

After four days we re-crossed the Drake passage and sailed across the Antarctic conversion zone, so we were in Antarctic waters. It wasn't long after crossing the zone that we saw our first iceberg looming over the horizon and we quickly instigated full Antarctic lock down by closing the forward water tight doors and doubling up on qualified watch ratings on the bridge at all time. 

First view of icebergs in our path (a sign of things to come)

On the 21^st February we arrived a Deception Island at 1400hrs. This is an active volcano and formed a ring rising out of the sea with a tiny inlet into the mouth of the volcano which forms a lagoon which is known to be the safest anchorage within Antarctica. The inlet is known as Nelson's bellows and we sailed through and did a tour of the inside of the volcano before launching the DOTI boat (our small zodiac boat) to take all the voyage crew onto the shore where they were free to explore the old whaling station and English station that had been abandoned after the most recent eruption in the 1960's. The island is covered with ash so that what looks like rocks is actually ice saturated in ash! The voyage crew returned to the ship in the late evening and we were finally anchored with engines off and all checks completed at 2330hrs.....A very long day, but completely worth it!

Old whaling station and Base A on Deception island

 As we continued to sail south past Trinity Island the scenery became even more beautiful and I felt particularly blessed when I was walking across the deck to lunch just at the moment that a hump back whale decided to breach off the starboard side. After my evening rounds I followed my usual pattern of making myself a cup of tea in the upper mess and headed to the Chart room to report to the officer on watch (the bosun). On stepping outside towards the chartroom I skidded on the snow that had settled on the cold deck even though the on-duty watch had already put salt down.

After a night at sea (with the Captain and OOWs steadfastly looking out for icebergs) I woke up and walked across the deck to breakfast to be greeted by the most perfect day Antarctica could possibly produce. Blue skies, flat water and we were surrounded by magestic snow covered mountains with icebergs all around us (so that the helm kept having to change to avoid them). It was a perfect. Even more beautiful than I had dared to imagine. The blue colours within the icebergs I had seen on TV but it just doesn't do it justice. It is such a beautiful colour and the atmostphere down here just fills me with inspiration. I can now understand why so many of the current polar experts came down here once and then did everything they could to forge an Antarctic career.....It's just stunning. 

Passing bergs

On the advice of Skip, the Captain decided to make an additional stop-over at Cuverville so that we could land the voyage crew in amongst a large colony of gentoo penguins. We dropped the anchor within a large bay facing the Cuverville landing site where we were surrounded by icebergs and gentoo penguins that jumped out of the water in little pods moving between the land and the open sea. It was so amazing to sea such a tranquil and yet dynamic environment that was pristine. The wildlife continued to enthrall me when an Orca whale surfaced and blew about 5m from the bow just as we were preparing the DOTI boat. It was great to see it so close up and it made me remember the cirlce of life and force of nature as the great orca patrolled the beach for the tiny gentoos.

Curverville

 After lunch I was allowed a short stint ashore and climbed into the DOTI boat to help one of our wheelchair users transfer in from Nelly. It was great being on a little boat again and fantastic being so close to the icebergs and leaping penguins. It was just impossible to know where to look, the scenery was so incredible. We landed and positioned the wheelchair facing the gentoo colony and I wandered down the beach to see a couple of whale vertebrae (left overs from an old whale station). I then walked very carefully around the colony and enjoyed a few runs up the hills in 2m deep snow to stretch my legs (and practise for the Sahara!) The gentoo penguins were real characters and fell over on the slopes nearly as much as I did! I was being so careful to stay more than 15m away from the penguins that I nearly missed the skewer as it flew a low pass over my head and I only just managed to sheild my face as it did a second dive bomb and nipped at my coat. It landed close to me and I slowly moved away so as not to disturb it any more (although I'm still not sure why it took such a dislike to me!) 

Looking back towards Nelly from my position at the top of the slope was like looking back 50 years at one of the early tall ships expeditions to Antarctica. I wonder if Shackleton felt the same sense of awe when I looked back towards his ship with a foreground full of penguins and icebergs and a back drop of snow laiden mountains.

On the 24^th February we sailed around Cuverville island in absolutely perfect conditions. Skip made sure we all kept perspective by commenting over dinner “it can only get worse” says Skip....and it did. But first we were able to enjoy the flat waters of the straits, sailing under blue skies, surrounded by bergs and mountains (althgough we were keeping a keen look out to avoid the numerous “growlers”).

We were lucky enough to see humpbacks within 5m of the ship- waving there pectoral fins and pounding them on the waters surface before rounding their back above the water, blowing and showing a full tail flip. This was repeated on numerous occasions by various groups of whales (at various distances from the ship) alongside the displays of jumping gentoo penguins and the constant backdrop of beautifully carved icebergs and mountains. We also passed Weddell seals bathing on the larger icebergs and gentoos and adelies congregating on other bergs. We were even blessed by the appearance of a leopard seal. The size of this seal was impressive (about 4m in length) and it's jaws were big enough to fit a mans head inside (a concept that I would prefer not to dwell on!)

We continued to motor as the weather deteriorated into a snow storm and all of us on deck resembled snow men as we prepared to anchor in Port Lockroy just as dinner was being called in the upper mess. It wasn't until later in the evening, when the Captain called me to take the sticks (turn on and control the main engines from the bridge) so that he could drop a second anchor, that I was able to take in the surroundings. We were anchored in a bay surrounded by shear cliffs of white with some low lying rock off our starboard stern where a few buildings stood against the weather....This is Port Lockroy.

Within a couple of hours I was called to the bridge again as a large iceberg came perilously close to Nelly's hull and the Captain was worried that we would have to move to avoid a collision. But, luck was on our side so the deck officers launched the DOTI boat in preparation for any more large icebergs appearing in the bay instead.

In terms of the British presence in Antarctica: Port Lockroy was known as Base B (and Deception Island was Base A) due to the time of arrival of the first British explorers. At first Port Lockroy was a general base for exploration but it soon became a scientific hub. The science eventually outgrew the tiny low lying island of land so that Port Lockroy is now maintained by the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust who put a small team on the island for each summer season to maintain the buildings, man the little museum and shop and generally provide a presence in the “safest anchorage in Antarctica” for passing cruise ships.

2 2nd's in Antarctica (Marcin is the 2nd mate and I'm the 2nd engineer)

Having dropped two anchors and Nelly having been blown around in circles during our time in Port Lockroy, there was no surprise when the deck team struggled to untangle the anchors as we came to leave to head for a tour around one of the nearby islands for a bit of sight seeing and to allow us to make some fresh water using our reverse osmosis (RO) plant. The deck team put in an enormous effort navigating us through the Gerlach channel as a snow storm pretty much blinded us over night so that the on-watch team had to rely mostly on radar to avoid icebergs. Well done guys!

We returned to Port Lockroy and as the VC went for a walk around some of the surrounding land to see some more penguins and the blue-eyed shag colony's, I got stuck into the 500hour service on both of the main engines. It was great to spend some time on my own in the engine room looking after “my boys” and I felt that they appreciated a bit of TLC. It was, however, slightly unfortunate that my “ships cold” that I had been desperately trying to ignore decided to manifest itself as I lost the ability to breath due to a tightness in my lungs, constant coughing/sneezing, hot/cold flushes, muscle aches, pains and weakness....This made wrestling with the belt tensioner even more frustrating than usual and I was so grateful when the Chief had pity on me and let me finish up half an hour early.

We are “supposed” to work approximately 0800-1700hrs at sea with ever other night on duty (which involves about 30minutes of checks etc. at 2200hrs and anything else that requires attention in the late afternoon, evening or early morning). However, in reality we are working much longer hours than this, and even when we aren't working we are still expected to help out whenever required or answer questions etc. So it is easy to find yourself quickly exhausted on a long voyage. After the toils of the Southern Ocean voyage and the madness of the maintenance period in Ushuaia I am finding that I am much more physically and mentally tired than I would like to be. I'm still absolutely loving being in Antarctica and doing my job, but I am finding it very hard (and I'm not ashamed to admit it) as this is a physically and mentally demanding job and you are constantly on the go here. 

To make matters worse, my cold turned into three day long flu-like virus with a vomiting bug thrown in for good measure. This meant that I missed our first attempt to reach Vernansky station- which we had to abort due to ice in the channel and was only vaguely aware of us arriving when I stepped onto the deck for some fresh air and caught the most amazing view of a solid blue iceberg! I could just about see a hut on a near by ice pack which was the Vernansky station. This is the old Faraday station where all the English science moved to when it became too big for the Port Lockroy island. The station was abandoned by the brits and is now run by the Ukranians, who were happy to come on board the Lord Nelson for a while to enjoy our bar and we were all pleased of the new faces. It was great being so far south and the VC were taken off on the zodiacs to explore one of the surrounding islands.

The next day we headed back to Port Lockroy to wait for a weather window to head back North and I was pulled out on deck (in my “only just well-enough to stand up” state) to be stood on the bridge and pointed to look out in the direction of a small block of ice that was floating within 15m of the ship. On top of the ice was lying a massive leopard seal. It must have been about 4m long and it was amazing to see so close! It had such presence and you could imagine the damage it could do with it's jaws when it opened its mouth to yawn. So much power in such a sleek looking creature. Completely awe inspiring. Once again I felt so privileged to be in this wonderful place.

We finally found a good enough weather window to start heading North, but the winds were strong and the sea was messy and we were soon being pushed down by a Northally gale that kept us well below the South Shetland islands, heading west through a storm. It was a demonstration of true Southern Ocean conditions and (once again) the deck team stood long and hard watches where they had to constantly support the helmsman as they battled through rogue waves and gales.....It was an amazing experience and only fortified my desire to come back to sail the Drake Passage in a smaller yacht. What a ride!

After 4 days of heavy seas we finally crossed the Antarctic Convergence Zone and we were really on our way back to Ushuaia. Whilst I am definitely ready for some leave time, I can't help feeling that I have a lot of unfinished business in Antarctica and I know that I am going to do everything that I can to find a way back down here. It really is a place that can't be described, or photo'ed but needs to be experienced. It makes you feel small and yet part of something at the same time and really illustrates the raw beauty, power and vulnerability of nature. 

Sailing the Southern Ocean and Cape Horn: Chatham Islands to Ushuaia

Up the mast doing wiring in the Chatham Islands

 At the Chatham Islands I had to take advantage of the last opportunity to do alongside work until we reached Argentina- which was such a long way away that it still seemed like an abstract concept. So I climbed to the top of the main mast to the mast head lights where I changed the old lamp system to a new LED lamp. This was great fun, although trying to cut and crimp wire whilst balancing in a harness and bracing your knee against the 30mph winds is never easy!

The Chatham Islands have around 200 inhabitants and the berth was very exposed to the oncoming wind so after the entire ship decanted into the only pub on the island to use the wifi for a few hours, we quickly had to move off the berth and spend the night at anchor. I was really disappointed about this as it meant that I couldn't do my final land run before the long stint at sea...But at least I got some exercise climbing the mast a couple of times.

Bosuns Mates working on the deck house roof

On the first day at sea in the Southern Ocean I had to investigate the wiring of the galley hot plate range. The heavy swell meant that I ended up sitting in a bath of lamb fat (that was leaking out of the Combi oven) and I was periodically pelted with potatoes that kept flying out of the bucket on the wash board above my head. In fact, I spent a large amount of time working in the Galley in the first week at sea and it was commented on that I spent nearly as much time in their as the cooks assistants! But there just seems to have been a steady stream of galley jobs; water boiler lever, galley lights, fridge lights, oven wiring, toaster element.....All in a days work ;-)

Working in the fridge

We had new years (hogmany) at sea and I started looking back over 2013. I realised that I started it in the middle of the Indian Ocean and now I'm going to finish it in the middle of the Southern Ocean! In between I have been in the Andaman Islands and India, Wales, London, Scotland, Canary Islands, Azores, Malta, Southampton, Vietnam, Denmark, Helsinki (Finland), Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand and the Chatham Islands....Not bad for 365 days really! :-)

Shortly after the spate of galley jobs I spent 4 days marching through big services on all four engines (2 generators and 2 main engines)- one a day, interspersed with taking tours around the engine room that was enabled due to the uncharacteristically beautiful flat weather. It is always really hard to know what to say about the machinery in the engine room as I know that I find it much more interesting than it probably really is so I have to try not to talk too much! However, the crew seemed genuinely interested and pretty much every one took a tour and asked lots of questions.

 

The Cheif and I working on the fire alarm system in the Chart Room

The days are started to become very routine (although my job involves dealing with different challenges every day). All on board slowly accepted their new reality of living in this small space in the middle of the ocean. It's a strange thing really, but one that man has been doing since we first took to the sea. I think the attraction to a life on the ocean is quite a romantic one. We all yearn to get away from the complications that arise from our modern day living so the idea of having time to simply think and stare out at the ocean or up into the night sky is really attractive. However some crew quickly realise that doing this for a long period time on a day-to-day basis has the secondary effect of making you realise how small we really are in this big blue world.

It is ironic that people say that they are “running away to sea” when, in fact a lot of problems can be exacerbated by life on board. This is certainly showing true for some of the voyage crew living in the fo'c'sle who came to get away from the annoying habits of family and are instead having to live in a very confined space with the annoying habits of their fellow crew. Maybe this experience will give them perspective on the habits of those back home and make them more patient.

Relaxing on the bow after work and looking up at the sails

As entertainment, some of the VC have been giving talks in the lower mess every other afternoon. Once of these talks was given by a gentleman named JR, an ex-para, who spoke about his involvement in a Quadrathon between Brighton and Gravesend in the UK in the early 80s. It was amazing to hear about his training and preparation for the event- what an inspiration! He was obviously in a completely different league from me in terms of fitness and training, but he stressed that his psychological preparation was as important as his long training runs.....I will take solace in this as I do my meagre step machine training every morning!    

Long voyages certainly change people. Usually for the better. I know that I have become much more laid back, which is nice because I used to be a chilled out person, but somewhere between the territorial army and research applications I lost the ability to allow things to be out of my control. Now a days, in my off time, you can generally find me sitting with a book or writing music. This more relaxed world view is particularly useful when the engine room alarms go off and I am suddenly faced with a gushing pipe or a machine that needs to be switched off immediately....More haste, less speed, and breathe.

I think I have mentioned before that I am one of the fire fighters on board Nelly. Actually I am #2 in a two man team with the Bosun (Leslie, on this occasion). We had a few fire drills during the voyage which I always enjoy. I think its so important to practice life saving drills until they are second nature to all involved. For one of the drills we had to don our kit and drag the hose down into the starboard fo'c'sle. As we moved through the lower mess smoke started to appear (signs saying “smoke were posted on the pillars” so we had to crouch and crawl to the water tight door that had been closed to try and contain the fire in the fo'c'sle. We used the water hose to cool the door and I had to pump the handle to manually crack open the heavy steel door so we could start hosing inside the fo'c'sle. As I pumped the door more and more, Leslie spotted a casualty lying on the floor. It was life over limb so I ducked under Leslie's hose and dragged the casualty out by her ankles and back through into the lower mess. I started to pump the water tight door shut again in an attempt to contain the fire and save the ship before we took the casualty back up to central command at the main mast, where the Medical Purser took over. The drill continued as we were asked to enter a second time to do some boundary cooling and continue to fight the fire from the outside. We then mustered the whole ship and simulated an abandonment to finish off the exercise. It was great to go through all the motions and pumping the door reminded me of the first time I ever wore a BA (fire fighting) kit...

I was 13 years old and on my first RAF cadet camp in RAF Brize Norton. We were taken to see the RAF fire fighters and they chose me (the smallest girl there) to put on all the kit. Once I was kitted out they told me to run to the other end of the hanger and back. So I did. They were all so shocked that I could do it that they didn't tell me that they were joking until I had run back puffing and panting in the summer heat of the hanger!

Fire Drill (I'm on the left and Lesley, the Bosun, is on the right with the hose)

On one of the (many) occasions during the voyage when I had to do a 250hrs service on one of the generators I found an unfortunate blockage in the oily bilge pump. I discovered this when the Port generator decided to throw up on me instead of allowing me to pump dirty oil out of it's sump into the bilge pump pipe. Of course the pipe flew off with the pressure and the resulting spout of oil went down the front of my overall so that the oil ran down my chest, stomach, leg and eventually pooled inside my right boot...Nice.  

In general, things for the first half of the Southern Ocean were just “swell” i.e. The ship was constantly rolling! The sea swells were enormous with long fetches that Nelly fitted into perfectly! It made walking around (and doing anything) involve pin-balling off the bulk heads so we were all covered in bruises and exhausted from not being able to sleep as Nelly attempted to throw us out of our bunks on each rogue wave. 

However, we had lots of good runs where the wind picked up to gail force and kept us a little bit more steady. Obviously this meant that the deckies had to think about the stress on the sails etc. But I was just happy because the reduced rolling and steady heel (sideways angle in the ship) meant that (on those gail-fed nights) I knew which way to have my head during in my bunk to avoid getting a head rush. In comparison, on most nights Nelly just rolled l both ways to about 40 degrees which meant that either way I lay I spent half the night nearly standing up and half the night with my head below my feet (...stupid badly orientated cabin!!)

Working with the Bosuns Mates in the sail locker

I spent a couple of days involved in lots of little “5 minute” jobs that ended up taking me most of the day (due to lack of spares or added complications) and this is always really frustrating. These jobs included a leak in the AC system, a fault on the fire alarm sounder wiring and a broken light switch. The AC system involved cutting and grinding out a new pipe connection, cutting new hose and re-fitting the system. The fire sounder wiring fault took a day of fault finding, checking all the fire alarms and bells, and achieved the square root of zero as everything continued to work fine but the fault light always re-illuminated about 30 minutes after resetting the alarms. The faulty light switch involved a 2 hour search for parts that turned up nothing useful and I ended up re-wiring the whole thing with a plug and socket from the lamp itself as I didn't have anything else I could use! 

On the 16^th January I had (another) birthday at sea. But this was different. This was my 30^th birthday.

30 had always been a big milestone for me and I had a “list of things to do before I'm 30” pinned to my wall since the age of 14. As it happens, I have accomplished 80% of the list! Which isn't bad considering; a) what was on there and b) that I have been adding to it in the last couple of years. I spent the evening of the 15^th January wallowing in self pity because, well, I'm not exactly where  social expectations would like me to be at the age of 30. (Sorry mum, still no grandchildren on the horizon)....But then I thought about it and decided that no-one expects to be on a tall ship in the middle of the Southern Ocean, surrounded by Albatrosses on their 30^th birthday! Actually, I'm pretty lucky and I've experienced some amazing things in my life that I wouldn't have missed for the world.

Surrounded by Albatrosses

As it happened, the day itself was really productive in the engineering department (once I got over the embarrassment of the crew singing at me during morning “smoko”). After a morning of “bitty jobs” I successfully re-wired the engine room fire alarm (which had been an issue for a few days) and then I identified the fault in the internal phone system and got that working too....Happy days!

So....here's to the next 30 years!...

 

2 days after my 30th birthday- at the top of the fore mast in the middle of the Southern Ocean doing some more wiring

Life on board can easily become monotonous especially for the watch keepers. (It is less so for us engineers where every day is a new challenge with new broken things and different maintenance to do). However, JST is run for the voyage crew so we have a couple of tricks up our sleeves to add interest and excitement into long voyages. One particularly involving game is the “murder game” where everyone is given a person to murder, a murder weapon (random object) and a place. Unfortunately my schedule meant that I completely failed to carry out a murder before I was killed myself (on the aft staircase, with a hair dryer) but the game played on for a good 5 days before a single victor could be named! On top of this we have had regular sea shanty sessions, the famous “egg drop” competition (where watches have to design a case that they can put an egg in, and throw from the top of the mast as far as possible (within the ship) without breaking the egg) and various card games etc. On top of this we had weekly Sunday services and celebrated every birthday, anniversary, day that ends in “y” that occurred to keep up morale and have an excuse to eat cake! (….So much for my “pre MDS diet”....Ah!) Actually, I was amazed to discover that the two married couples on board both met on previous Nelly voyages (as one couple celebrated their 18^th wedding anniversary and their 20^th anniversary of when they met)....Very cool.

After 35 days at sea we were all settling in for another evening on board Nelly with a quiet anticipation knowing that the next day we would be crossing the infamous Cape Horn when suddenly over the tannoy we hear “Land Ahoy!” For a second nobody moved. Disbelieve. Not wanting to hope. We had all become desperate to feel solid land under our feet and to be let up from the incessant rolling of the Southern Ocean Swells so even a distant sight of land would be amazing....There was a sudden rush up the stairs into the frigid air to follow the line of pointing fingers. The Captain had sighted it first.

I had just got out of the shower but I still raced into the chill to glimpse the most amazing “grey blur” I had ever seen! ….Land....Running along a dirt track...New Zealand seemed like a different lifetime  and even the Chatham Islands a distant memory. Was it really only 35 days ago? 

CAPE HORN!

I woke up on the morning of the 1^st February to find an empty bar and walked up on deck (as I do every morning) to see Cape Horn off our Starboard beam....And, if you believe it, we were completely becalmed! It seemed completely unreal standing in a t-shirt with a cup of tea in hand and staring at the illusive Cape Horn from a Tall Ship that was wallowing on a Southern Ocean that could have been called glassy apart from the long swells that caused Nelly to continue to roll in a lazy manner. 

Nelly´s chart table at Cape Horn

Nelly becalmed at Cape Horn

We took advantage of the calm ocean to carry out a man-over-board drill. It was great to get out in a little boat again and going through the man-over-board routine made me really nostalgic for the RNLI lifeboats that I work on back in the UK. But, it was lovely to be off the ship for a bit (even if it was to get into a smaller boat). We took the opportunity to take some photos of Nelly alongside Cape Horn which have come out really well. Plus it meant that, whilst Marcin (the 2^nd mate) was taking the photos I was able to helm the boat and put her alongside Nelly. 

Me at Cape Horn!

After that I had a real giggle in the afternoon. I had to do a quick repair on the toaster which I tried to rush through before the MOB debrief, but in the end I did the repair half before and half after the meeting so I forgot to tighten a couple of screws which meant that the elements dropped down. So, when I plugged it in at the galley, it shorted and blew up a little. I sighed and took it back to the workshop and thought nothing of it.

Suddenly the Chief comes running up to me as the Cook had reported that his oven was off and there was no water. Then the bosun came running up and said that the aft heads wouldn’t flush …..The Chief and I ran into the engine room to do some head scratching and the Chief noticed that one of the main breakers had switched off on the circuit board so everything was easily reset and worked immediately (much to the relief of the cook who was in the middle of preparing dinner!) It turns out that when the toaster blew up it tripped its little breaker (which it shares with the aft heads sea water pump….go figure) and this then tripped the main breaker on the circuit board (for what ever reason)....*sigh*

Ofcourse all I could think of was that Nelly was saying:

“Well…if the toaster isn't working then I don't see why I should have to do anything!” 

After passing the Cape, the calm seas and fine (if cold) weather continued  for a few days until suddenly we were woken by the Captain announcing on the tannoy “All hands on deck, we need to wear ship after a sudden wind change”. The day then continued as “normal” with various things breaking (washing machine, lamps) and normal maintenance needing to be done (bar stock check, sewage plant cleaning). After lunch Marcin was on watch when a squall suddenly filled in bringing over 30 knots of wind on a fully canvassed Nelly! He quickly called all hands and I followed the on duty watch onto the deck to help take down some sail and reduce the high angle of heel produced by the gail. Whilst still letting go of the main halyard, I heard a tannoy for “engineer to the chart room” and found the engine room alarms sounding for a bilge alarm. I ran down to the engine room to locate the offending bilge and (as usual) found the sail locker alarm going.....*sigh* ….cue bilge diving. 

The Chief joined me as I pulled out numerous ladders and sails to inspect the bilge where, surprise surprise there was no water. Once again, something had shifted in the sail locker during one of the violent rolls and wedged itself under the bilge alarm float. 

Anyway, it was fantastic to be back in “Southern Ocean conditions” as we continued to head North to try and reach the latitude of 50° South. The sunsets were stunning and (whether it was our imagination or not) it seemed to warm up again the further we went. However, the Northerly sail couldn't last as the winds eventually turned on us and we only reached 51° South before having to do a U-turn. We turned in light winds and fired up the engines on the 6^th February to make sure that we made enough speed to get to Ushuaia in time for the pilot. 

It was great to have the engines running again although the excitement was soon lost as the alarms started to reappear and the noise in my little cabin increased 50 fold. The sail down the Beagle Channel was magical. Surrounded by wind capped mountains, green hills and little islands that I have been reading about during my down time on the voyage. How amazing it must have been for the first explorers to suddenly find themselves in this beautiful landscape after the vast expanse and loneliness of the Southern Ocean.

Sailing through the Beagle Channel

We arrived safely in Ushuaia after a difficult berthing was made to look easy by our amazing Skipper. We will be here for a week carrying out well needed maintenance before the month long sail down to the Western Antarctic Peninsula. 

I'm sorry that this blog entry is so long, but there was a lot to say as, well, I just sailed the Southern Ocean and crossed Cape Horn in a tall ship!! :-)

...What a long, strange trip it has been!

www.justgiving.com/tam-at-sea

First night run in Ushuaia