Baltimore to Key West Race - April 23-28, 2000
by Mary Lochner
The first step into a voyage begins with trust. Trusting that everything will work out and hence my philosophy as a boarded my plane in Boston for the Hemingway Cup in Key West with my sailing gear and red William Sonoma apron in hand. I would endure a long series of flights and meet many sailing celebrities along the way such as Mike Toppa (our competitor aboard Chessie Racing and a past America's Cup participant aboard Stars and Stripes) in Ft Lauderdale. I would finally arrive at my destination 6 six hours behind schedule. I had an interesting taxi ride from the Key West airport to the Hilton marina included sharing a ride with a chocolate Labrador retriever.
When I arrived, I asked for directions to the marina. Once on foot, I felt a magnetic pull towards the dock where the 77 ft Frers (built by Palmer Johnson) named Javelin was beautifully displayed. She had a new blue bottom, 16 sails, 700 pound main and 17 huge winches which all took my breath away. I gazed in awe and delight at my future temporary home. She would be my home for the next 4 and half days along with 20 men and another woman. Javelin seemed abandoned with no one in sight so I boarded her cautiously thinking that some type of alarm might be activated. The only sound I heard resembled a low rumble similar to a Harley unhampered by any annoying muffler which later turned out to be a sleeping crew member who never responded to my verbal calls…. some security system. I went below Javelin's deck with my bags and promptly noticed a magazine posting of a blonde with a wet T-shirt and Cal Ripkin (Baltimore Oriole) which I was later told was for crew morale improvement.
Gradually the crew assembled on deck and introductions to everyone were made. A skipper's meeting was called and a thorough orientation of each sailing position (bow to stern) and safety concerns was given. All crew with medical experience were introduced. We were asked if anyone took any medicine that we should know about…. no one said anything and later I was recruited as a nurse to aid a crewmember who was hypoglycemic. I became worried when at one point he had turned a lovely shade of purple from either being sea sick or dehydrated or a combination of both.
We were told that each crew was assigned a number. There would be 3 watches (7 crew each) plus the navigator. Each watch would be 3 hours long and had a watch captain responsible for each team. One watch would be sailing, the second would be on standby and dressed and ready to go and the third watch would be sleeping. I was instructed that meals would be a 6 am, noon, and 6 pm. Each person received one water bottle and a hot and cold cup with their number on it along with one set of utensils for the duration of the trip.
Several crew reviewed their knowledge of where provisions were located and what was purchased. A six-foot long grocery list from Costco ($1000) proved to be helpful in inventory and planning meals. However, my staple ingredient (garlic) wasn't among the provisions…. darn. We did have "Pure Peruvian Sugar" compliments of the captain. And fish juice, which was almost thrown out, but then a crew said it's used to pour down the gills to kill the fish rather than bludgeoning it to death. Seems its nothing but very cheap Vodka!
Most sails covered the compartments containing the provisions and I was instructed to solicit help to move them if needed. There was ~$500 worth of deli meats (complete with owner's wife's cooking instructions) including a whole ham, roast beef, turkey, and two legs of lamb. I'm still wondering where the $70 salami went to and thinking it could be the subject of an interesting game like "Guess who's got the salami". One crewmember quickly obtained a private supply of Baby Ruths. The sleeping crew awoke and attempted to give me another orientation of the galley, but I stepped on his foot in the crowded area. I looked down only to notice that he didn't have any toes. My expression was a state of surprise and his response was a simple comment to assure that I did no harm by saying, "I didn't feel a thing because I haven't any toes". Apparently he lost them after sustaining a horseback riding injury and an infection set in. He had painted his sandals with fingernail polish were his toes should have been. He proved an essential individual in keeping up the morale of the boat and giving me pointers on the timing of preparing things such as coffee and soup and at the end by telling me to chill beer for celebrating.
After settling in on Saturday and going to bed, the first night aboard the boat proved to be a rough adjustment from my singles' life sleeping alone. Javelin's berth and head doors were left open the entire trip because they were blocked by sails, and that night the crew all snored in symphony.
Easter Sunday started bright and sunny with light air (5-8 knots) and allowed the crew to adjust to life aboard. I began my daily regime of sponge baths and brought along some Wet Ones to assist the process. After I cleaned and freshened up, I prepared the first meal…. roast beef sandwiches for lunch since most breakfasts were self serve with bagels and fruit. I realized quickly that I had to ration the provisions (food) such as only 7 Pringles per person. The race was supposed to start at noon, however, it was postponed in hopes of more wind. It seemed as though it shouldn't matter when the race started with 1050 nautical miles to cover. I noticed the professionalism of the crew when we forced Blue Yankee and Chessie Racing to head up at the start. Chessie R was decidedly over the line at the start.
I watched in awe as a sun beaten crewmember hung precariously by a harness at the top of the mast on Blue Yankee. What were they doing? Looking for wind? It was a slow start and the sleds had the advantage being lighter. Our navigator seemed intent and focused on our advantage of getting into the Gulf Stream. This was accomplished by noticing subtle water temperature changes and we obtained 4 knots current which boosted our speed over land. The sleds soon disappeared into the distance and our only spectators became a school of dolphins far off the starboard beam and some flying fish.
Our navigator had VIP status, his consistent behavior always requested salt and pepper prior to even tasting the food and when asked if he wanted anything to eat he would respond "I'm almost about ready", I was confused by this comment. Does that mean now, one minute or five minutes? I usually had a plate in my hands when I asked and I quickly figured out his timing, which was not the plate I'm holding now, but the very next one. At times I felt more like a bartender listening to crew venting or telling me interesting and entertaining stories while I worked. I was reminded of the difficulty of distributing meals in an orderly fashion, when a crewmember attempted to assist me and took orders for condiments for sandwiches. He soon was overwhelmed in the hurling of demands from the crew. I can totally understand the meaning of "mutiny" now after coming so close to feeling the hostility of the crewmembers.
By the evening I had finally overcome my fear of the gas stove and no longer requested the captain's assistance each time to light it. I had promised a special Easter dinner for everyone and prepared 2 legs of lamb (including mint jelly!), baby carrots, asparagus, and something in the food inventory that resembled potato dumplings (no label). Later on I described the peculiar looking beige baseballs to a Ukrainian friend who is a chef. She said the strange balls are called cannoodles. Dessert was comprised of pink and yellow marshmallow peeps. Most of the macho crew refused to be caught eating them, but under the cover of darkness they all disappeared…along with all the fresh milk. A dessert station was always available and had candy such as Starbursts, Reeses Cups, Animal Cookies, Oreo's, and Nilla Wafers.
The following day consisted of keeping everyone hydrated. Each crewmember had their own water bottle with their specific number on it, but I made flavored drinks from powder drink mixes. It was amazing to see an entire canister disappear in one day. I resorted to industrial size scoops and used a coffee mug instead of the plastic scoop. The beverage requests were commonly referred to as "brown stuff" (ice tea), "pink stuff" (lemonade), or "yellow stuff" (lemon lime Gatorade). Unfortunately, the ice didn't last and most crew requested something cold, but there wasn't anything…. just lukewarm beverages. Dinner, that star filled night, consisted of Shrimp Gumbo and veggies over white rice…. compliments of Costco.
The captain warned me that the weather was going to turn and recommended that I prepare meals in advance especially anything that involved water. I heeded his advice and cooked pasta and potatoes for the next day. One crew graciously offered to cut onions and cried the entire time asking if they were cut fine enough…I think he was masochistic. All the cooking drained the butane tank, but fortunately another tank was quickly hooked up. The cold weather also produced more requests for coffee and tea. Darn! Because my true galley challenge as the cook was the…coffee pot. It was my nemesis. It seemed to take forever for one cup of coffee. And most crew wanted some right away. I felt like the coffee specialty stores where they make it one cup at a time and you have to wait while a cup is prepared. When rough weather hit, the coffee maker was secured using a bungee cord belt, which was hooked on one end by the paper towel holder and the other, by the spice rack. I had to unhook the bungee each time to make a pot. One time I pulled too hard on the bungee and the paper towel holder became a slingshot and disappeared behind the oven. It miraculously appeared in its proper place after we finished the race. Another challenge was since the boat was heeled the pot was also on an angle (unlike the swivel oven). This tilt reduced the amount of water that I could add to the pot and resulted in a more concentrated brew. I also think the accuracy of my aim to fill the pot was reduced by as much as 75% and at times there seemed more water surrounding the pot and on the counter than in it.
The seas began to get rough and the biggest water balloons I had ever seen as viewed from the galley were splashing onto the deckhand's heads and sometimes even into their foul weather gear. The crew's spirits seemed high and I was glad to be warm and dry in the Galley. Then the ocean seemed to make a joke of me and even I became wet. On several occasions the waves would flood the cockpit and the excess water cascaded like a waterfall into the galley on top of the stove. We tried to catch it with a black bucket, but the angle of the heel fluctuated too much. The flooding drenched the sparkers and they refused to light for the remainder of the trip. I had to search out the smokers of the crew and solicit their lighters. At one point the pilot light went out and the Captain smelled gas. I was amazed at how quickly he responded and acted accordingly. It wouldn't have been fun to have a fire aboard the boat.
The weather became progressively rough and cooler although the water in the cockpit seemed suitable for hot tub trials. I decided to make warmer meals, which consisted of grilled ham Reuben's for lunch and baked lasagna (compliments of Costco again) for din din. We were short a lasagna tin (one was eaten during the delivery) so I improvised by fixing a rice dish, with chicken and vegetables.
Somewhere in the Bermuda triangle our luck turned. During a routine spinnaker jibe, the kite unfortunately became tightly wrapped around the head stay and formed a bubble. Three crew bravely risked their lives in 30 kt winds and rough seas, to be hoisted to the top of the mast. But their efforts were in vain. Visions of scissors were dancing in most of the crewmembers' head. A fourth crewmember, a 250+ lb Russian, was laboriously hoisted to the top, but he had the strength and stamina needed for the 5.5 hour spinnaker takedown. Due to the virtues of his talents, I always made sure he had plenty of food and gave him first dibs on any extra leftover food. He was always appreciative. And I never saw him refuse any food during the trip except oatmeal, which he told me he was forced to eat tons while growing up.
During the night, I went on deck and heard an apparent whistle, which at first I thought was coming from the bored crewmembers. It was a birdlike call. Then another crew said there was a bird that had been following us for several hours. Someone said it looked like a cross between a penguin and a seagull.herring. The evening was magical and the bow lights illuminated the water and each wave brought effects similar to Dante's inferno. The phosphorescence was everywhere including our heads when you pumped them. Other crew thought I was too easily amused at the spiral phosphorescence in the toilets.
Another Russian crewmember entertained us with Whitbread stories to pass the time. He had been in two Whitbread's and the other Russian crew was his friend and swore to the validity of his stories. One story included being attacked by a killer whale while trying to relieve himself on the bow of a boat. He said it took him several days before he could go to the bathroom and commented on the size of the teeth and tongue. He seemed very happy with my cooking and commented on the meek meals he had in the past. He said in his past trips they did not have hot water and made Ramen Noodles by soaking them in cold water for several hours.
After hearing the bedtime stories, I headed for my berth. The weather intensified during the night and the gale hit us with 40 kts of wind and 20-25 ft waves. The waves were like moving walls and almost seemed mechanical. It seemed like the sea surrounding us was like a washing machine with rhythmic sloshes and thuds as the hull hit the force of a wave. I had dreams about surfing. I awoke to hear news that we had blown out our heavy jib…only remnants were left for sail bags (small ones). Our main tore in an L shape configuration (about 24 inches total). Fortunately, we had 3 sail makers aboard and the repair procedure was successful and we continued with a red patch of sticky-back sewn over for reinforcement.
During the bright and sunny day, I enjoyed physical and visual effects of the massive waves at the top of the stairs and sheltered by the dodger. I'm told they are very hard to view from pictures so I feel fortunate to have had the real life experience. It was like riding a roller coaster. But unfortunately, almost half the crew wouldn't agree with my enthusiasm. The theme of the day was BARF (as experience by many…. but not me)! The galley and companionway turned into a sick bay with limp bodies everywhere. I tried to nurse the crew by giving them Gatorade and water, but the salt water had mixed with our regular filtered water and no one felt like eating or drinking anything. They all just took drugs and slept. It wasn't until nearly 24 hours later, when the Skipper ordered them to drink something. The main diet for the sick ones was saltines, saltines, and more saltines all the while in a horizontal position. The saltine worshippers graduated into saltines with peanut butter and then eventually into peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I choose a bland diet of pasta (fettuccine with a garlic and basil red sauce). It seemed like a good idea, however, one crew threw up in the kitchen sink and then it became plugged. Others tried to clear the lines by using plungers but that Captain said that the remnants traveled all the way back to the aft heads.
The drastic reduction of crew called for more of my help as crew and I relished the opportunity to be one of the few crew to learn the "Whitbread" spinnaker packing of the chute, which drastically cut down on the amount of time (roughly 3 minutes as opposed to 30 minutes to pack the chute).
During the night, the crew on deck became chilled and I was instructed by the owner to have soup ready to keep them warm through the night. I prepared a batch of chicken soup (recommended by my mother for crew especially sick ones) and left 10 Ramen Instant Cup of Chicken Noodle Soup in the galley before heading to my berth. All the soup disappeared during the night.
The next morning, the weather calmed and we entered Chesapeake Bay. We all pitched in to clean up from the aftermath of the storm…Lysol in the bathrooms and soggy TP was dispensed in the galley trashcan. Toilet seat lids were torn off from crew trying to hang on…. One member told me that he actually was suspended in mid air while we were free falling down steep waves. The moist weather had been a catalyst for the food going bad - cole slaw and potato salad were donated to the fish in the Bay. The limp crew slowly regained strength and peeled themselves off the floors and allowed me the much-needed access to more food inventory. I took the opportunity to stock up and was delighted to find some much needed cups and utensils since most were either lost or deteriorating from so much use. I decided to prepare a hot breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal with raisins, brown sugar, and MILK (yes, I found some boxes of Parmalat milk…. yeah!) I made some hot tea with lemon for the skipper as well. The crew recovered quickly, but many were still weak so to hasten recovery, I prepared roasted chicken breasts, potatoes, and salad with mango madness dressing.
The Bay was long and we moved slowly. The light air and pace allowed for some frolicking on deck. One young crew was the subject of many a jest such as calibrating the radar. I was requested to supply 6 feet of aluminum foil for the joke. Unbeknownst to the young crew he was given aluminum cuffs, beanie on his hat and a rather devilish looking 6-inch tail. He was hoisted up in his harness and told to do movements such as the YMCA. He was given a round of applause shortly upon returning back down onto the deck. The good sport was given another initiating when told to go below and ask the navigator for a token for the bridge (Chesapeake Bay). The navigator went along with the joke and said that he was out of tokens and he would have to dig and find one.
We sighted our first sailing vessel behind us in the Bay and they passed us under power. It was the race committee boat and they waved boosting our spirits. We noticed that they had sustained considerable damage and had several torn headsails. And we later found out that they heeled 90 degrees during the rough weather damage of over $200K. All of their TVs on the starboard side were under water and the china had gone flying in the kitchen. The ultra suede ceilings sagged at the weight of the water as well.
I had time to express my creative cook abilities and made banana bread without a recipe. I used the little bit of rum left on the boat in lieu of vanilla. The combination of spices and freshly baked bread drove everyone wild. I couldn't make the muffins fast enough. And once again I had to exercise portion control. Everyone was allowed a half a muffin.
The finish of the race was phenomenal. The cannon salute was an unexpected surprise since it was 3:30 in the morning. We were promptly transferred to land, and rum drinks were abundant. I missed out on the live radio show given by other members of the crew when we arrived. Other surprises included meeting Gary Jobson (ESPN commentator of the America's Cup) at the dock and Bruce Farr (Farr boats) at Annapolis YC. The awards dinner in Baltimore was rather formal and requested a jacket and tie. The mayor was present. One female member suggested that we wear foul weather jackets and sail ties. Note to race committee…women don't like silk ties…. diamonds are preferred…. and I'm not talking baseball diamonds…go Sox! We watched the final competitor from the top of the World Trade Center and quickly went to greet them. I asked them what they ate and they responded hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner so I knew then that we did okay for meals. A cherished moment was my first cooked meal that I didn't have to prepare…. it was in Annapolis at Lewnes…a big fat juicy Porterhouse steak.
There were a mixture
of personalities during the trip, some were
Lurkers (lurking around the galley waiting to be served
or asking for second helpings)
Pickies - if given several choices such as beverages they
would always choose something we were out of and they were hesitant
to try anything but meat and potatoes
Helpers- One crewmember owned several restaurants and I
don't know how I could have done it without him. He emphasized
portion control and assisted with recipes. The Captain who also
lived on the boat and was an essential ingredient for things such
as lighting the oven, turning on the microwave, which was run
by a generator, he was a "just do it" person and never
complained. Others would help clean up, but I still don't understand
why the sugar was put in the glassware.
Hoarders - one crew had his own personal stash of Baby
Ruths (a case) and didn't share
Loosers-good people, but they kept loosing their assigned
cups or utensils. I found a solution for one crew by giving him
a Starbucks mug in lieu of the plastic cup, which seemed to work
well.
Sneakers-one crew would sneak into the kitchen when I wasn't
looking and search for all the good stuff…. well he was from
NY…. need I say more?
As I reflect on the details of the race, a wave of nostalgia overcomes me. A lot of water has passed under the keel of Javelin and she survived any punishment the ocean dished out. Each obstacle that we encountered we conquered with first and foremost trust and secondly camaraderie. Physical, professional and perseverance of the crew were the hallmarks or essential ingredients of this trip--from the first moment the untested crew arrived at Key West, until we reached Baltimore.
