A crew member, Sheila, hails from a family of keen sailors in Ireland, who were wildly speculating about us via their family WhatsApp group.
Has the boat broken? Have we lost someone overboard? Does someone need help? Do we have any wind? Is everyone else around us in the same predicament?
This was a good time to dry everything out as best we could. Sheila bravely made two trips to the top of the mast to secure a satellite antenna. We fixed, we folded, we fried in the sun.
We were also reminded of Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’:
‘Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.’
We had actually run out of fresh water in our tank. Unintentionally, we had not switched the heads across to sea water, so we had merrily been flushing with all the fresh water we had filled up with. Fortunately we had brought an enormous amount of bottled water with us and decided that this was a good time to learn how to use Io’s water-maker.
Another crew member was Rachel, a dear friend who, like me, had come a) to support her husband, Simon, a great sailing enthusiast and always an uplifting presence on board, and b) to see what she was made of! Rachel was my mainstay throughout the trip. We laughed together, cried together, threw up together and eventually managed to eat together. On this day, and over her lunch, she looked up at me with a wry smile and said ‘Chippy – this is just the interval!’. Little did she realise at the time how prescient her words would be.
The wind slowly picked up. We put up the Code Zero sail and now had just over 50 nautical miles to go to the Rock.
Wednesday 26th July
We reached the Fastnet Rock early in the morning. Very disappointingly it was shrouded in mist and fog so we managed to catch a blurred glimpse, turned left and then headed back into the Irish sea.
As my shift was ending Stephen appeared on deck, his face ashen. I could tell straightaway that something was wrong. All he said was: ‘The weather is building’. When interviewed by RORC before setting off Stephen had also said: ‘It’s going to be lively’. So I knew that weather that was ‘building’ was Stephen’s understated way of saying that it was all going to get much worse.
My heart sank. I just hoped that the boat wouldn’t go the same way.
Then followed over 20 hours of winds gusting up to 36 knots. With two reefs (we could have done with a third), Io was nevertheless coping valiantly and reaching speeds of up to 14.7 knots. She surfed huge waves, often ably and masterfully helmed by Joe, a fantastic seaman and also, thankfully, our shift leader. I must, however, confess to private moments of genuine panic. I even started to worry whether we were putting both Io and our crew at risk. I didn’t say as much but I did ask Joe and Sheila, my human barometers, if they were worried. Thankfully they said not. That did calm me somewhat.
One incredible and unforgettable moment came when we most needed it. A tall wave rose and, just before it crashed again, a dolphin emerged completely out of the water in its epicentre. Time seemed to slow down as we watched it rise and return in an elegant arc. It was precisely what we needed to see at this time.
The dolphins were still with us.
And even in the moments when we lost sight of them the reassuring and mesmerising loom of the lighthouse from the Isles of Scilly was a veritable beacon in the darkness.
Thursday 26th July
By Thursday we were beginning to see the winds die down. We also had to engage in some nimble navigation around the shipping separation zones.
And then, south of Plymouth, was the start of a 90-mile spinnaker run taking us most of the way to finishing line. Cherbourg was in our sights.
Friday 27th July
We finished at 0700, on a crest of joy, relief and exhaustion. Because we knew the winds were building again, we made the decision not to stop in Cherbourg, much to the disappointment of the photographers who captured our moment on a RIB. But we blasted out ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams on the boom box that Jess, another of our crew had brought with her, and we danced our way back to the Isle of Wight.
Io had kept us safe. Although light to the touch, she was formidable in challenging conditions. Her auto-helm, on which we relied a great deal, was sensitive and responsive. Her ability to surf the huge waves we faced was astounding. There was no slamming and banging like we had experienced in a previous boat that we had chartered for the qualifiers. Io’s sleek and elegant hull cut through the water with ease and assurance. Before setting off we had a feeling that Io was a special boat. Now we know this to be true.
And most importantly she brought us home safely.
Our thanks must go to: Sean, whose design combines beauty with unquestionable prowess at sea, Karen and Io’s previous owner Stuart, both of whom helped make all this possible for us; and finally our crew: Charlie, Jess, Joe, Rachel, Sheila, and Simon; and of course, to my skipper and husband, Stephen.
It was an adventure we will always remember. On a boat we will always love.
