I'm no stranger to tests of endurance. I actually rather enjoy them. With marathons, an Ironman, and a terminal graduate degree under my belt, I've often tested my mettle over time. Given that I'm not an exceptionally swift runner, I feel my relatively slow marathon and triathlon times grant me greater experience on the endurance front.
So what is a 3,000 nm crossing like? Well, in our case it wasn't very demanding at any one moment. A beam/broad reach in 10-15 kts of wind across 5-7 ft seas is something any sailor can enjoy (especially with Beauregard, our self-steering windvane in control). Put that on top of a swift westward current and you regularly notch off 180 nm days that make you feel rather accomplished (regardless of the fact that you might have adjusted the sheets or wheel only three or four times all day).
So what is a 3,000 nm crossing like? In my mind, it's most similar to another endurance event I've participated in: The Krispy Kreme Challenge.
Let me explain...
I really only eat about 12 donuts a year, and for the past four years, that quota has been ceremoniously met at a running event held in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. The goal is to run 2.5 miles from NC State's campus to a Krispy Kreme downtown, eat a dozen donuts, and then run the 2.5 miles back - all in under an hour. Over 5,000 runners participated in this last year.
The hardest part isn't the running, nor is it the 12th and final donut. The toughest part is donut number nine. The run out to the Krispy Kreme is mostly downhill, and the collective excitement makes the miles pass quickly. After receiving your box of donuts and settling into your personal space in the Krispy Kreme parking lot, the adrenaline in your body makes the first five donuts disappear remarkably quickly. You start to feel full as you force down numbers six and seven. By donut number eight, your body has figured out what you're doing and begins its protest in earnest.
Donut nine is by far the worst. At this point you've remembered that you don't even like donuts. You're wondering what prompted you to sign up for this very boorish display of Americana at its best. You've also probably heard the sounds of someone regurgitating their batch of donuts as other competitors scurry to an unsoiled corner of the parking lot. Worst of all is how wholey unappetizing the remaining three untouched donuts look.
But you press on, and you notice a dramatic change with donut number ten. With only two donuts left, the end is in sight and the task at hand is no longer as daunting. 'You can eat two donuts' you tell yourself. 'After all, you've just eaten ten' (the massive influx of sugar obviously clouding your logic). Donuts 11 and 12 disappear as quickly as the first five, and soon enough you're on the road again with an X on your race number signifying your recent accomplishment. The run back is tempered, but easier than you had expected, and you soon cross the finish line, oddly proud of your accomplishment (with all the earlier thoughts of despair now forgotten).
That's what sailing a beam/broad reach across 3,000 nm is like. Just like eating a single donut, a single day spent sailing in the tropics is a true delight - putting many of those delights end to end is what makes it a more difficult prospect.
And just like counting down donuts, so we counted down the miles. The first few days went by quickly. Days eight and nine dragged on a bit. By this point I had read all the books I had that were worth reading and began shuffling through trashy beach novels picked up at past book swaps. My ipod playlist was similarily well worn. We were out of fresh fruit. Worst of all, I had run out of dry underwear, and constantly sitting on wet cushions created a discomfort that I will not discuss in detail.
But once we had 1,300 miles left, the majority of the days were behind us and the end was now in sight. Will had baked a 'halfway cake,' we had gained significant ground against all the other boats on our radio net, and I soon began the mental math to figure out whose watch would make landfall.
In the end, the crossing was rather pleasant and featured many high points, including:
- All other boats on the radio getting out name right (no more 'Tippycat' or 'William The Cat').
- The Papaya on day three.
- Reading 'One Watch At A Time' By Skip Novak.
- Watermelon Day on day five.
- Halfway cake.
- Working through Will's collection of movies, specifically:
a) South Pacific - a recent BBC documentary series about its namesake. Shot in high definition, often in high-speed, this series got us excited about what is to come. For those of you following along at home, I would strongly suggest watching it. It presents the world we're sailing through in impressive detail. Apparently Oprah narrates the US version.
b) Breaking Away - a terrific movie featuring collegiate cycling in the 70's, it stars one of the bad guys from 'Home Alone' alongside a very young Dennis Quaid.
c) Out Cold - This irreverent and comedic snowboarding remake of Casablanca is directed by the Malloys and features Zach Galifianakis. What's not to like about that?
But most of all:
- Holding weekly sat-phone calls with several of our classrooms in Virginia! It was really fun to check in with you guys!