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Nemo - HUNDRED HOURS OF SOLITUDE-A SHORT REPORT FROM THE ARC RACE



Sounds familiar? Well whether you have been reading a Nobel prize winning novel, waited for a child being born at the clinic, put away for 4 days in jail (for a crime someone else probably committed), or you are a sailor, you know what I am talking about.

Just a few days ago, we were in high spirits. Sails were being changed swiftly day and night by the two teams working like Formula 1 crew in the depot during a Grand Prix race. Energy went into race updates were we all high fived each other seeing other boats being left in our wake of success, wind speeds of 25 knots pushed us fast toward the Rum punch at St. Lucia, and more importantly, toward seeing our loved ones again.

We had been taking a very bold decision, (well I was not making the actual decision, El Capitan and Gallo Veleta did), and we headed north, (look at the attached map of the fleet, and notice how we are completely alone in this area of the ocean).

The rest of the boats headed south, but we were actually doing so well that we decided to celebrate, we brought out tapas and even shared a bottle of red wine from Tenerife for dinner (at 12.00am).

As the wine cork popped, the wind totally died out, and the jolly feast suddenly got somewhat overshadowed by AHABs gloomy look.

We kept our stiff upper lips, and did enjoy our meal as best we could, and El Capitan had two servings of the curry-chicken (which I took as a good token of professionality and experience, but later the thought that he was just very hungry has crossed my mind).

So we are currently drifting aimlessly around in a part of the Atlantic Ocean were even fly-fish don’t bother showing up. From feeling like Christopher Columbus returning to Spain on a wind of glory on his Santa Maria, our ship now resembles Rosinante carrying Don Ahab and his five Sancho Panchas on a desolated sea-scape fighting imaginary clouds milling no winds.

OK, I admit that compared to Oddyssevs longing to Itaka, or Hillary longing to become the first female president of USA, our longing is not going into the history books, but I have a point.

When did you last cut yourself off from any information from the outside world other than a race report? Has Donald Trump changed his hair-style meanwhile? Has Assad stopped bombing his own people, has Magnus Carlsen won his 3rd world championship in chess, or has Norwegian football become important?

I have not experienced being totally out of touch from my wife and kids like this before (even though they sometimes think I am out of touch, but that’s another tale).

The text messages and the phone calls, that normally would take the edge of being physically detached from them are not available. This is something completely new, a rare experience these days.

One also get plenty of time to think about more facets of life like work, friendships, plans for the future and maybe re-thinking political views ore choice of jeans next time you go into a store and decide you are still 23.

How often can we look up at the sky at night and actually see millions of stars, witness the sun brake the water-line twice a day, and look 360 degrees without seeing nothing but cloud formations in constant change. (the other day I swear I saw a cloud shaped perfect like a map of Iraq, and I ran for the camera, but when I pushed the button it had changed into a face looking like Tony Blair, so nature can also fool you some times).

It`s also inevitable that the crew get to know each other better and we fall into line and start accepting that 6 guys with a total age of more than 300 years have our ….let´s call it qualities. The one that always pick the tomatoes out of the pasta, the one that needs the coffee to be 79 degrees Celsius to wake up at 4am, the guy always peeing toward the wind, the one always laughing a tad too late at a joke, the one who hates country music even if its Blues-rock, or the one who is always right. Well, let me rephrase that, the 6 guys who´s always right.

OK, now you get the picture, we are becoming a gang, a group. But not any group, not a company selling hotel beds in Sweden, a band playing at a half- full stadium in Beograd, or a group controlling the Norwegian grocery market. We are a group that have a common goal of actually winning this race.

Hidden behind the little grin, the occasional smile, the pat on the shoulder or the helpful hand pulling a rope on deck at 2am, there lies a predator. A beast advanced after millions of years of evolution to become what It is today. A sailor at his best, that’s what we are, or at least some of us are.  But that doesn’t keep the rest of us, or more specific …me from feeling like one……and there, just now…….. the wind returned.

Ubbe Haavind on Nemo



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