Exclusive extract of Pip Hare’s fascinating Vendée Globe book

There have been many causes to concern my passage via the Southern Ocean, and the way it may as soon as and for all expose me as not fairly the person I aspired to be. The vastness of the ocean hangs heavy on the human thoughts. I’d managed my first month of progress down the Atlantic by breaking my journey into phases associated to climate transitions.

Every part of the Atlantic had taken 5 or 6 days, and after finishing one I’d transfer rapidly on to the subsequent. The Southern Ocean could be completely different, I knew that. It could be six or seven weeks of the hardest crusing of my life, accompanied by the sort of oppressive gray cloud cowl that hangs heavy over even the brightest of temperaments, so constant and opaque that it was not possible to inform what time of day it was. There could be week-long stretches the place I’d by no means see the solar.

On these days the damp and chilly labored its means via each merchandise of clothes into the core of my physique, making it really feel like I’d by no means be heat once more. Engaged on deck was the best bodily and psychological problem. The water temperature was round 6°C, and when a wave washed over my uncovered face or palms it could shock me immediately. Simply trimming sails grew to become a battle in opposition to the weather. To look forwards via the oncoming waves concerned lifting my face right into a bathe of needles, the exhausting, icy spray driving straight into my eyeballs.

Chilly consolation

But it surely wasn’t simply being on deck that grew to become difficult in Southern Ocean circumstances. The within of the boat grew to become a chilly, dank dungeon. The carbon construction of Medallia (ex-Superbigou) offered scant insulation from the encircling water temperatures. I used to be separated from the ocean by as little as 4cm, which meant the hull of the boat was the identical temperature because the water round it.

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Each floor was lined in a slick of water, because the moisture in my breath and from cooking settled and condensed. Attempting to make repairs on this surroundings was troublesome. I’d should squeeze my physique into tight areas, urgent myself in opposition to the chilly hull. My limbs would go numb, palms seizing up. Instruments went rusty inside days if not dried off with a kitchen towel and sprayed with lubricant after each use; sticky tape was rendered ineffectual.

There are additionally instances when there’s one thing to smile about. Picture: Pip Hare/Medallia

Discovering motivation

The overwhelming urge of a chilly, moist physique and drained mind to search out excuses to not go on deck, change sails or perform routine checks and upkeep was enormous. I needed to hold stress on myself on the proper time. However there was no routine to settle into: I’d be required to alter tempo typically, adapting my fee and elegance of labor to the climate, and keep my motivation by reminding myself all the time of who I wished to be – and that was an individual who let no alternative go them by.

Particulars mattered. My whole focus shrank to the scale of the boat. I wanted to test religiously that each one the strains within the cockpit have been nonetheless tucked into their luggage, as they might rapidly get free to clog cockpit drains or go over the aspect, the place they may wrap themselves round rudders or the hydrogenerator.

Medallia’s unprotected deck was typically awash with chilly water. Picture: Pip Hare/Medallia

I wanted to observe wind pace and route consistently, setting alarms to alert me to modifications, by no means permitting myself to sleep for greater than 40 minutes at a time. In these circumstances, there’s no time or house to elevate your head, to take a breather, to consider future or previous. There’s solely the minute-by-minute current.

I feed off pleasure when instances are powerful. When my inside ideas problem me to not go on deck and make a micro-adjustment, as a result of it ‘received’t make that a lot distinction’, I pressure myself out from underneath my blanket to do it anyway. I like the individual I’m on my return. I really feel happy with the actual fact I took the exhausting possibility. Nobody made me do it, and nobody will bear witness that I did it. However in that one small movement, I’ve made a small stride in direction of changing into the individual I wish to be.

It feels good, and I acknowledge my power.

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