How I got onto the 2001 Fastnet Race and survived on FUSION
By Zaki Izham

So where should I start? The time I scaled the mast in moderate breeze to rescue the spinnaker? Ha! When I was abused for my methods in sail trimming? or when the Irish skipper bribed a 17 year old to show me around one of the ports and the teenage barely legal disco...? I guess the beginning would be appropriate.

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This would be early December 2000 in the final stages of the Kings Cup regatta where for the first time in the regatta did our yacht perform so well. Gotcha Lagi! formally known a Gotcha! won 6 out of the 7 races of the regatta (go to http://AsianYachting.com/Gotcha)the second was a great disaster! The lack of beat speed in that race was attributed to the low tension of the genoa halyard (there went the extra knot of boat speed!). I was lucky to be working on the foredeck of Gotcha Lagi! and probably the best training ground available on the Asian sailing scene. Also, at the right place at the right time, the closing ceremony of the Kings Cup a young Irishman, Padriac Conlon approached and congratulated me on Gotcha's victory. Then came the ritual small talk that is all to familiar on the sailing scene, our brief encounter ended with an exchange of numbers and e-mail addresses.

May 2001 After a short trip to Cowes in the Isle of Wight known as the birth place of all yacht racing (a fact that all the members of Royal Cork Yacht Club including Conlon would disagree as the first yacht club ever formed was the Royal Cork YC) I wanted to start racing in Cowes. I reached for the telephone to ring up my one and only racing contact in the UK, Conlon. After a number of calls and missed calls Conlon invited me to Sail Cowes week and the Fastnet race, obviously I said yes!

August 2001 Upon arrival at Cork International I was greeted with a public announcement informing me to approach the information counter where a young lady said 'Padriac is slightly delayed but he'll be here soon' I thought to myself, wow this chap is so well known even the airport staff know him on first name basis. Padriac was only 15 minutes late, the short drive to the Royal Cork YC was anything but dull it was catching up talk, sight seeing and detailed race tactics discussion all in one.

The Delivery - Cork (Ireland) to Southampton (Isle of Wright)

The RCYC was formed in the mid 18th century although not particularly well known the yacht club was definitely warm and oozed a serious race atmosphere. Padriac led the way to yacht FUSION a Projection 35 built by Southampton yachts, 35 feet long so beamy you could play badminton over the boom across the deck. The rig was bullet proof, 3 spreaders a set of jumpers held the fractional mast rig high and strong, I knew she was safe enough to do the Fastnet in. Down below the living quarters we less than basic, four pipe cots and mid cabin bunks all minus the comfy cushions. Galley facilities were minimal.

Seventeen hours after first setting foot on FUSION I found myself on her bow timing for the start of the Cork to Skull Race a passage race to the west 120 NM along the south coast, with the owner Mike at the helm an ex jumbo pilot Nick as the chief tactician his girlfriend and 'John' from the Irish army. I got the timing horribly wrong all because I was working on the 10 minute, 5 minute and start guns not knowing they do things differently in Ireland (6 minute, 5 minute, 1 minute and start). I though to myself this is no way to show that you are a competent bowman. Thanks to Nick we got over the line in good time.

It was latter explained by Mike that it is tradition in this race to drink as much wine as possible during the race, not worry about tactics and sail the course in as little tacks as possible. After 10 hours of racing 12 bottles of wine consumed Mike decides to trim the mains, helm and navigate all at once. Tiller and main sheet in one hand, mug of wine, traveler in mouth toes fiddling the chart plotter, not surprising there was an accidental gybe, all hell broke loose along with serious spillage, the cockpit was flooded with expensive red wine. The only thing I was thinking was how am I going to keep my brand new Helly Hansen foul weather gear wine free and yellow! Thanks to the pouring rain the deck was clean and white before long.

On the approach to Skull I was helming from the early hours of the morning in rough weather that calmed rapidly to very light winds, we finished the race with nearly no wind and in very strong currents in the afternoon 20 odd hours after the start. We came last! But Mike stressed that we completed the main mission that is to finish the wine

In skull the boat packed with the race gear ready for another booze race to Baltimore before the delivery across the Irish sea to Southampton. After a lovely meal in an expensive French restaurant compliments of Pilot Nick we enjoyed the night life and collapsed, some in the boat, some on the street, me in the crew house on the floor. We improved on the race to Baltimore by not getting last, by this time I was familiarizing my self with the boat and the sheets. Upon arrival at Baltimore we were greeted by Padriac and our new race member and delivery crew an ex Brit Soldier called Alex. The evening passed rapidly with Guinness flowing fast down the hatches. The next day was surprisingly easy as I figured out that Irish Guinness does not give you a hangover! The boat was cleaned all the sails dried and flaked for the delivery from Baltimore in Ireland to Southampton. It was also the day where I found my self scaling the mast with a climbing harness to retrieve the spinnaker that broke free and was only flying off the halyard as it was drying.

With minimum food and drinks (alcohol free for the delivery) Mike, John, Alex and I set off to the Scillies with a warm westerly breeze of 13 knots at 18:00, we had a easy reach to the Scillies. The boat worked in four hour watches, four on an four off in teams of 2, everyone helmed during the passage. In the early hours of the morning as the sun was rising I was in the Irish sea for the first time, 15 feet waves braking, wind gusting up to 30 knots and the sea a dark cold blue. Geared up and dry in my oilies I was surfing the boat while on the helm reaching speeds of up to 10 knots with our ripped delivery mains and a number 3, here I saw the real potential of FUSION. We arrived into the Scillies at 12:00 and rested before having a large dinner in the pub on one of the islands.

The next day we moved over to St. Catherines for a full English breakfast and moored along the pier. Mike mentioned that we only had 45 minutes for brekkie as the tide was falling at a rate of a foot every 15 minutes. I rushed to the chemist as at this time I had a serious case of tonsillitis, armed with 'Difflam-mouth wash' and Paracetamol I found my way back to the boat 3 feet lower along the pier. We motored out to sea and hoisted the sails to make a straight passage to Southampton. The winds are moderate at about 15 knots and up the bum, time for the spinnaker! She went up twisted the first time (thank god I was not blamed as did not pack her) On take 2 the spinnaker went up without a glitch. Unfortunately not long after I took the helm only to twist the spinnaker round the fore stay, 15 minutes later with the mains covering the spinnaker from the wind I managed to free it. Was fair play really I screw it I fix it.

The trip was anything but dull as the first gybe was a failure this time I was not to blame but I was still sent up the mast to rescue the sail. With only 3 feet of waves and 15 knots of wind the ride up the mast was anything but smooth. It took me 15 minutes to free the spinnaker and take it down. On the way down a rogue wave hit the boat and I was thrown clear of the mast but lucky enough to make a fast recovery. Down on deck with the spinnaker I saw blood on the mast spinnaker and my watch. I had got a 4 inch gash on my thigh, a souvenir for the second trip up the mast.

The wind veered abeam and we had a close reach all the way along the South coast from Lands end to Cowes. On the approach to Cowes on my helm the spinnaker guy blew. The spinnaker was brought down and the number three up within minutes in choppy waters and 20 knots of wind just off the Needles on the IOW with John at the helm. John and I were now known as team broken spinnaker. Chartless Mike nearly beached the boat just after the needles before we decided to trail a l30 foot J boat there for the Americas Cup Jubilee into the safer waters of Southampton. As rain started to pour the engine decided to cough and splutter slowing the boat to 3 knots and it took 6 hours to sail up the Southampton river into Shamrock Quay. Four (4) boat lengths before the marina birth the engine packs it in completely making coming along side very interesting.

Two days after leaving Ireland with no food left on board, tired and smelly we arrived Southampton. And this was just the delivery.

Preparations for the 2001 Fastnet Race

For every hour of racing there was at least a days preparation involved. I learned this the hard way.

After 3 days without a shower I rejoiced the fact that the birthing facilities in Shamrock Quay were at least bearable, with loo's that required no pumping and water faucets that worked it was heaven as compared to the very basic (what an understatement) facilities yet to come on board FUSION.

I showered early that morning and met up with Mike, John and Alex for the greasiest English breakfast known to man. I was wondering whether this was the brain child of Mike, fatten the crew up and have nearly no food on board for the race for weight reasons, (note that during the delivery we had only 6 liters of water box of Weetabix, salad cream, cheese and three tins of kippers! By the end of the trip I was reduced to eating dry Weetabix with salad cream).

Well, clean Zack did not last too long The three of us were scrubbing grease off the boat and imagining how the grease from breakfast clogging our arteries. All the sails were dried, the head, clew and tack marked clearly and reflaked. It is important to do this since all sail changes during a race are always performed under maximum panic situations (dark, wet and the bowman being thrown all over the deck), this perdantic behavior has saved me on numerous occasions along with refusing to set and launch the spinnaker if I wasn't the person who packed it. I see no reason to take the fall for someone else’s short comings.

Drenched in sweat 6 hours later the boat was clean, all that remained is to seal the leaks on deck and fix the crew pipecot.

I was assigned the 'big brother task' of fixing the pipecot. Easy task I said to myself. After shopping for the materials I set forth to completing my task. 45 minutes later wet and hot I knew why I was the fool who has the worst job, I was the idiot who did not know earlier that it was mission to difficult (not mission impossible as I managed to complete it). I sat back thought a little and worked less and found my cunning solution, the pipecot was made in 15 minutes! Each one of us on board hopped on and had a good roll on the pipecot; it did not rip. I was willing to bet my life that it would survive the Fastnet.

The leaks at the mast were fixed and the other crew-members confident that the boat will be dry. I was praying to dear god for the boat to be dry down below for the duration of the Fastnet. The crew breifing or lack of it turned into a drunk pre-race booze session.

THE RACE (Fastnet 2001) How we went?

12th August 2001
T minus 2 hours to the 10 minute signal.

Moored just off Cowes Yacht Heaven it was a muggy cool day with very low visibility (1000 meters) we have just completed the obligatory sail between the committee boat with our storm jib (sail number forward of the mast on the starboard side) and the trisail. We received acknowledgment.

I waited down below with some of the crew and relaxed down below, it was my refuge, away from destructive criticisms I faced on deck almost solely on my over theoretical approach to sail trimming. Time flew by and not before long the start gun for the V60's was fired, I got the time and my faithful CASIO G-Shock was counting down the minutes, the same watch that had launched Gotcha off the start line never more than 2 seconds after the start gun was fired! How can the crew of FUSION not cross the line in good time? Impossible (How wrong I was!)

Just two minutes from the ten minute gun FUSION was still on the mooring, Mike insisted that we sail off from the mooring, there was confusion and havoc, the minute we released the mooring we were drifting on to little ‘Dragons’ moored beside us, wind and current against us our ‘Master’ tactician Nick was screaming at the top of his voice for the engine to be started. He later ran down below and started it himself, we were off! Ready to race!

Seven minutes from the start gun, skipper called for the mains to be reefed, it was not an easy task, trying to feed the reefing lines through the locks on the piano but when this was done the grinding in of the reef was even harder no thanks to the self tailing winches that did not tail.

I was the designated mast man (i.e. shut up and do nothing). During the final minutes before the start I was calling out the time until the start "4 minutes!" Nick screamed at me and said "We don’t need to know". So same old story I kept quiet and we did miss the start.

Our youngest crew member Ross was the bowman, carefree, gung-ho and always refused to hold on to anything when on the bow. Along with refusing to look to leeward behind the sails to monitor boats closing in on FUSION. Which by this time I started to refer to her as CONFUSION. After a few near misses with boats to leeward Ross agreed with my advice that it’s a good idea to monitor the boats to leeward.

It was less than 3 minutes to the start I could not see the Royal Yacht Squadron's startline, I asked Ross if he could see it, the reply was negative. I relayed this to the cockpit crew; no-reply they had their problems too. They looked just as lost and confused as the other crews onboard the other 200 boats.

A minute to the start, on the penultimate tack, the jib sheet came free. We had a strange system of a hank and Velcro strap to secure the jib sheet to the jib, in such strong winds when the sail was not brought in fast enough the flapping of the sail would shake the jib sheet free. I had to sympathize fully with Ross who was blamed for this. It took Ross and I sometime to rectify the problem.

The Start!

We had made the first real major mistake: We were far off the start against the current and the wind, struggling to cross the line. The minutes it took to cross the line felt like hours, Ross, Rainy (Nicks bird), John, Alex and I were on the rails while Nick, Mike and Padriac were in the cockpit. Crew morale was not at its high, I was wondering was sailing this race such a good idea? Could I hack this for the next four days? I just kept quiet. Eventually we crossed the start line, the consolation was other boats screwed up big style too, God had just given us our first "Get out of Jail Free Card" the first of many!

On the rails John and I were discussing our positions relative to the other boats close to shore and out at sea in the Solent, I had learnt that taking the bearings of other boats while beating in strong currents is the best way of judging our gains or losses. Unfortunately we did not have an accurate enough hand bearing compass to do this from the rails. We used the trees on shore instead to see if we were "Making Trees" on the boats closer to shore. John and I fast realized that we were losing out most of the times. John being more senior than I mentioned this to the cockpit crew. There was no positive reaction, our comments were ignored, it seemed that the invisible knowledge barrier dividing the "Rail Meat" and the "Cock Pit" crew was strictly in place. This fact holds for nearly all racing yachts, it is assumed that the minute you place yourself on the rails you are nothing but 75 kilos of ballast, no gray matter, no self respect and no feelings. If you are in the cockpit though you are handed the "I have gray matter card".

The first two hours out in the Solent was spent beating, the crew had settled down to our jobs a few of us helping on each tack the others just moving to the windward side of the boat. The speed we achieved was not great, roughly 5.5 knots when the wind was about 25 knots and gusting to 30 knots.

I wanted to know what the cockpit crew was discussing in order to learn something new so I designated my self as the "food boy". This way I was always running in and out of the boat passing food to the crew who were cold and wet on the rails. Party sized Mars bars, Snickers and Twix were handed out. My reputation from boat gimp had changed immediately to Mr. Morale booster, everyone appreciated my efforts of locating the food down below (the most hazardous area on the boat thanks to flying cans of baked beans, ravioli, cans of Coke and the assortment of navigational aids such as dividers and compass. Risking a few gashes and bruises was what I was willing to do in order to receive recognition. Who cares if I was not trimming the sails or navigating or even giving feedback to the tactician? I was at least recognized as a team player, a human being once again, I was Zack and willing to risk life and limb for the comfort of his fellow crew members! The cockpit crew members were happy, I was happy, I have earned my place in the cockpit.

Not long after my promotion into the cockpit my opinion was asked about the trim of the boat! I knew this was coming, after 4 hours of racing most people get bored of looking at the boat speed, wind angle from the windex (our apparent wind angle display was switched off and the manual was left on shore, for weight saving purposes, one of the worst ideas in the history of bad ideas, we had no idea on how to turn on the instrument again.) and the telltales. So from rail meat to food boy to sail trimmer in four hours, I was ecstatic.

After six hours of racing we decided to fall into the ritual four hour on and four hour off. The first watch as lead by Padriac then there was Alex, Ross and I. Towards the end of our watch we were close in shore to avoid the 2 knot current we were beating against. When we were just by the Shambles Banks and gaining on many of the yachts offshore, I remember that we were the only yacht so close to shore, a good call by Padriac to come in this close. The sea changed from being slightly choppy to very smooth, this bizarre change freaked us all on deck, this along with the depth gauge showing 1.5 meters made it clear we had to tack out to sea and face the current.

It was 01:45, a quarter of an hour before the shift change over we realized that were losing out by tacking too early but it prior to this we felt the risks of staying that close to shore was too high, but now it was foresight due to hindsight we should have risked it and stayed close to shore. The crew change over was slow, my watch went in feeling sad we didn’t risk it for a biscuit!

Eventual monohull Line Honours winner "STEALTH" finishing just short of setting a NEW record

RORC Log on GBR9834 Fusion a Projection 35 skippered by Michael O' Carroll
in class IRC1, IRC1B during the 2001 Fastnet Race

Mon 13 Aug 13:48 Due South Start Point
Tue 14 Aug 19:34 Humphrey Morris, approx 75NM to the Fastnet rock
Wed 15 Aug 13:23:45 Fastnet Rock
Thu 16 Aug 01:30 Humphrey Morris
Thu 16 Aug 18:40 Lizard Point
Fri 17 Aug 05:18:16 FINISHED

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On to the ROCK!

The sun was rising from behind us, we were just off lands end on starboard tack and flying the spinnaker. When the boat sails with the jib there is never too much disagreement with the sail trim, to be honest most of the time the jib sheet is brought in till all the telltales fly. The more enthusiastic racers will make sure that the all the telltales fly and break uniformly and simultaneously from the head to the tack of the sail this can be achieved by moving the car forward or aft, the halyard tension can also be adjusted to either bring the draft forward or aft depending on the wind speed lastly a tool for the sail trim buffs would be the barber haul but we’ll not discuss it as CONFUSION (FUSION) did not have them.

Returning back to the spinnaker everyone seems to have their own philosophy about sail trim (me included, or shall I say especially!). Ross and Alex were trimming the spinnaker while I was working the mains, in a brad reach there was nothing much I could do with the mains except let the traveller off all the way and control the attack angle of the mains with the mainsheet, the shape of the sail was determined by the kicker. When I was done with my job I was itching to get the spinnaker flying more efficiently.

With respect to spinnaker trim, all on the watch had a fetish of having the spinnaker pole far forward, I on the other hand had a fetish of having the pole as far aft as possible (again not to the detriment of boat speed). My argument would be based on the force vectors; the farther forward the pole is the larger the vector towards the lee, this then leads toward unnecessary heel on the other hand if the pole is brought towards the aft the heeling vector will be reduced while increasing the drive vector! The most amusing conversation I have to admit was that between Ross and I, I asked Ross whether he had a fetish with the pole being forward. The reply was ‘Because I want to f***ing go f***ing forward!’ Well that ended the conversation, Padraic was laughing an so to was Alex. Not long after I was commenting Padraic looked at me and said ‘ There is something you want to say but not saying’ he was correct, he suggested I have a go at the spinnaker which I then did. I only managed to maximise the minimum boat speed we achieved but found this increasingly difficult. I realise at the end that we were losing more boat speed not due to sail trim but to boat helm. Most of the time the helm was trying to keep the watch calm as opposed to helming, so from this time onwards even if the sails weren’t trimmed well I did say anything to get the helm out of the groove.

The sun was out and we bore off and headed straight to the ‘Rock’. It was breakfast time (roughly 08:00 on Wednesday (the race started Sunday at 16:30)) The watch feasted on kelloggs variety packs, the variety packs were packets of cereal containing one serving of about 30 grammes. We opened the packs and poured milk directly into the plastic bags containing the cereal, reason being we did not have any bowls. Its amazing how food just cheers everyone up on the boat, it did not matter how much we disagreed on the sail trim or even the direction we were heading we always agreed on the food! This was the beginning of ‘TEAM SCOFF’ (scoff; to eat; to gobble; to devour like hungry natives!) We each had two boxes of cereal each.

It had been a few days with no washing or cleaning, we were beginning to feel comfortable with our state of disgust, I am sure I brushed my teeth once before (I swear I did!) but today was the first time I washed my face in more than three days and brushed my teeth again. It was bliss to get the furry feeling off my teeth. Some of team scoff cleaned themselves up a little too.

It was just past 12:00 and for the second time we had broken the watch rule, all hands were on deck and we were on a close reach directly towards the Rock and really heeling. We were broaching at times and had to dump the mains and the spinnaker. Later we learned to just dump one of the sails in order to maintain some boat speed. It was time for team scoff to go off watch, by this time there was a mid season change due to watch politics known only to Mike and Padraic, Ross was changed for John. It was then John, Padraic, Alex and I who were to remain on the same watch all through to the finish, it was on this watch we were really christened ‘TEAM SCOFF’ thanks to us scoffing peanuts, cashew nuts, mars bars, lion bars, snicker bars and any other bars available! After plenty of scoff we went down below at 18:00 for four hours.

By now the forward compartment was full of urine and saltwater, the sails forward were soaked in piss! The whole boat smelt like a public toilet in some under privileged country. The team off watch would have to try their best to just fall immediately to bed, it was this or sniffing piss for four hours, truly unpleasant! In fact it was the most unpleasant feeling of the whole trip. To add on to this problem for me was that I had lost my comfy pillow! To be honest it was John’s comfy pillow, which he referred to as his ‘buoyancy aid’ earlier when we were on different watches I could borrow Johns pillow but now when we were on the same watch I lost the pillow. I had to learn to fall asleep fast or face the stench of ammonia!

A couple of minutes after we retired down below we felt the boat broach violently and continuously, this happened for about two hours till there was a loud bag and lots of commotion on deck. Nick poked his soaked head down the companion way and said ‘We need help boys we lost the spinnaker!’. Padraic and I were up within a minute and a half fully geared Alex followed later. There was so much panic on deck. Padraic and I got the genny flying and the boat was again on its way. Astonishingly it was probably Rainy who hauled the spinnaker in from the clew as it had burst from the head, not surprising since the boat was broaching like hell, it was her way of saying enough is enough.

At this very moment Ross was trying to scale up the mast to retrieve the spinnaker halyard and the only thing stopping him was probably Alex’s vice grip on him, I am sure it was not only Alex and I who wanted to give Ross a good whack on the head with a winch handle. Losing the spinnaker and the halyard would have meant we lose a couple of minutes in the race losing Ross would mean the loss of one life and the race!

Team scoff returned down below soaked and annoyed. I suggested the spinnaker be brought down much earlier but there was no reaction from our skipper who was only too eager to ’Drive the shit out of the boat’. Padraic mentioned bringing the spinny down many times but the advice was heeded. There was just the feeling of frustration down below but we bit the bullet and returned to the bunks happy that at the current heading and boat speed we would round the rock in six hours and then it will just be ‘the drive home!’ Team Scoff!!!! (our war cry!)

Nick as usual gives us the wake up call 15 minutes before we are due up, this time greeting us with the great news that the wind had gone round more than 90 degrees and we are beating towards the rock! I was not a happy bunny, I was a pretty pissed off bunny! Team scoff took control of the situation, we fired up the chart plotter, assessed the situation, we were off course and sailing the shorter tack. This is another pathetic school-boy error we were not on the tack bringing us closer to the mark! Basic rule in upwind sailing strategy; Always sail the longer tack first and NEVER EVER EVER sail to the layline (from The North U Smart Course – North Sails guide to race winning tactics and strategy). At the present situation it was vital we tacked.

Since the unfortunate event of the spinnaker there was no house keeping done on the foredeck, now wet, choppy seas and pitch black team scoff sends yours truly Zack to do the house keeping. I clipped my harness on, knowing that my life jacket strobe was not functioning if I had slipped and gone over board it would have been sayonara! I am still too young to die, there were far too many young girls that I haven’t met! The boat was pitching and rolling violently, I had my father advice in my head, he always said, one hand for you and one for the boat. Crawling on all fours to the bow I cleared the sheet and guy, released the topping lift and cleated it to the foot of the mast. Now it was time to clear the pole, it took me a couple of minutes to feel the release catch system of the pole at the mast, in the end I secured the pole on deck and was ready to return to the cockpit. Halfway back I remembered advice number two given to me by my father before the race ‘Never do anything faster than you usually do it’ his analogy to this was accidents only happened when people tried to drive faster than they usually do. I knew I was working under great pressure and was doing it faster than normal, I was sure I missed something, eating humble pie I crawled forward to the mast this time losing my footing and slipping but I was still on board and just used my ‘get out of jail free card’. At the mast I found that I had cleated the topping lift while at the same time tangling it and the jib sheet to the mast, this would have been a disaster, along at the top of the list if the long list of disasters on CONFUSION. Back in the cockpit after rectifying the situation my heart was racing 190 beats per minute. The questions raced through my mind, will the pole stay secured? Will the sheets get tangled? Will she tack?

John and Alex handled the jib and I managed the mains the boat tacked without a glitch. It was dark and wet, there were tears of joy in my eyes and I was smiling, I alone knew what could have happened, it is only now by reading this do you the reader know what could have happened in the tack. I said to myself softly ‘you the man Zack’.

The tack complete, the sails trimmed and by this time there was no two way communication between me on the mains and the helm, he knew and trusted my capabilities and I made sure I did not let him down! Beating towards the rock at 6 knots we were back in the race. I went down below and returned with food, after all we are team scoff. We went though a whole party pack of Milky Way and Twix and then we cleared the nuts. With the food gone we got bored again and there was still an hour left before the next watch took over at 06:00. Everyone on deck smoked except me until this time, the rain stopped and I said ‘Alex give me a ciggy!’ the reply from the rest off team scoff was ‘Oi you don’t smoke’ justifiably I retorted ‘Got anything better for me to do?

I sat back with the mains and smoked my heart out, I had never thought that cigarettes would be so much fun. Time passed and it was six in the morning, team scoff went down below.

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