Ellen Macarthur Trust

Getting Tough

Day 4 Sunday 13th December
 
 
Everything is getting much more challenging now. Yesterday the motion was so bad, I could barely keep myself upright in my wheelchair, let alone type a blog, even now, every tap of the keypad is a chore. The honeymoon period of calm seas after leaving Lanzarote is now a distant memory. It's not that we are enduring any horendous weather, in fact the wind barely reaches 20 knots and, right now it is only blowing less than 10 knots. The real debilitating factor is the sea state. Again, it is nothing too bad, at worst waves are only 2 metres and the Atlantic swells barely 3 metres. The problem is that it is a very confused sea; waves and swells coming from all directions and the wind is blowing directly on the starboard beam, not good for a lightweight catamaran.  Impossibe Dream is bobbing like a cork, pitching and yawing, snatching and jerking, her 60ft length belying her skinny 17 tonnes as she gets picked up and slapped broadside by the seas.  I found yesterday and last night very tough indeed. It is difficult enough existing in a wheelchair in a house that does not move but negotiating my chair around ID is like riding a unicycle on a rollercoaster.  One of the factors of quadriplegia is having no tricep muscles in my arms. Those who know me may think I have full movement of my arms, I don't, it's a false impression, I only have 30% use of my biceps and that is it, no triceps at all, nor wrist, hand or finger movement, what you see is like a kind of "trick movement".  Controlling my arms so I may use my finger to type or to use my knuckles to push a button on the radar is made all the more difficult by the constant motion of ID, it's as though my arm has no spacial control.  For every correct keystroke you read, I have deleted more than double because of mistakes and my knuckles are red raw from continually pushing wrong buttons on the instrument panels.
 
Living in such a confined space is highlighting and magnifying every aspect of my disability; getting dressed, eating, drinking, getting washed - it is all 10 times more challenging than on land, not only for me, but Susana too - how many PA's have to wait for the waves to abate before transferring their clients from chair to bunk with the floor moving beneath them, whilst all the time feeling seasick?  I could not even drink my cuppa-soup safely at lunch for fear of spilling hot fluid all over me. I anticipated that it would get tough, and it may well get tougher yet, but no matter how much you anticipate and plan, it is not the same as going through it for real and I'm not embarrassed to say that I'm finding this very tough indeed right now.
 
I had planned on having several cat-naps a day in my wheechair whilst in the reclined position to supplement my two-hour sleeps lying on my bunk, but even that has proved almost impossible. No sooner have I reclined my chair and closed my eyes, the boat lurches and I am jarred awake.   Tiredness was beginning to become a real problem but Digby and Susana kindly kept extra watch and I got some much needed extra sleep. Sitting up in my chair for such long periods has presented a new, unexpected challenge, swollen feet.  I think the correct term is oedema? This fluid around the ankle causes the foot to spasm which is a bloody nuisance. The remedy would be to lie down with the foot elevated until it subsides but that's a luxury I don't have.
 
Another problem we have is that our wind instruments packed up shortly after leaving Lanzarote.  With no moon and thick cloud cover, the skies are ink black, so too the sea, you can not see a horizon nor the oncoming waves so have no indication which way the boat will throw you next. With no instruments giving apparent wind angle and unable to see the wind on the water, it makes setting the sails during darkness very tricky, only experience enabling me to use "sound and feel" to know when they are set right.  Squalls are a regular occurrence here at night bringing with them strong gusts of wind which often change wind direction within seconds.  I am using the ship's radar to track these squalls and I reduce sail area accordingly before getting hit by one. With no apparent wind data, the radar is effectively acting as my early warning system to avoid any potential damage to the sails from gusts, it is not an ideal situation and only adds to the stress. 
 
Thankfully the seas have eased today, the sun is out and I'm feeling more optimistic.  The Atlantic is every bit as magnificent as I rembered her but it may be a while before I can put aside my physical challenges and start to enjoy this voyage.  The first signs of that began at 11.00am this morning with the screaming of my fishing reel, "fish on" I shouted. Susana eventually wound in a beautiful 25lb specimen Mahi Mahi, only for it to escape as she was landing it.  I know what you are thinking, but we have it all on film care of Digby. I'm surprised none of you heard me swearing when it got away.
 
Our average speed is not good, barely 5 knots, we need to make 7.5 knots if we are to make Tortola by the 27th.  Hopefully the tradewinds will help us make up for lost time but the forecast of the next 3 days is not good. And now the port engine has stopped working, Digby and Susana up to their elbows in oil trying to resolve the problem. Happy Days.