I'm back

It is so good to be back on dry land, in a real bed and using a flushing loo; the list goes on. A week later I think I have just about adjusted to normal life although I did have some form of what I am labelling 'land sickness' - the land wasn't moving but I was regularly feeling queazy for no apparent reason. The turning point seemed to be Wednesday and subconsciously I must have been missing the ocean as I was back out on a boat in Plymouth Sound.

Keen to put my newly acquired knowledge gleamed from the Clipper transatlantic race into practise I rejoined "Wave Warrior", the thirty seven foot yacht I have crewed on a few times in the past, for one of the summer series races. I distinctly remember the first time I sailed on this boat it seemed huge. Perspective is a funny thing and after living on a 'seventy footer' I was seriously questioning if this was even the same boat. I couldn't comprehend how much smaller it was, so much so I hardly even recognised it.

I know that Devon is a small world, sailing is too, combine the two and I shouldn't have been surprised at this coincidence. One of the crew on "Wave Warrior" was talking about coming up the Thames last Saturday, then I heard him mention St Katherine's Dock (where the Clipper boats moored up) and sailing a seventy foot yacht around the world - it turns out he had just sailed one of the Clipper boats back from London to their home in Gosport. I then had to be careful what I talked about and there was no room for exaggeration as I shared my transatlantic experiences with the rest of the crew.

Happy Hour

The morning before our grand departure from North Cove Marina in downtown New York we had our third and final briefing. With all of the sixteen crew plus our skipper it was our final chance to contemplate what might be ahead of us; not that anything would have changed my mind by this stage. That was, until I heard about “growlers”, “The Perfect Storm” and the “Titanic”.

Admittedly it sounded as though the skipper was just trying to make us laugh. I did manage a small nervous smile but mainly because I had no idea what he was talking about. From my teenage years I have fond memories watching Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic, with the wind flowing through their hair and Celine Dion crooning in the background adding to the romance of the blockbuster film. I was, however, too swept up in the Titanic's romance story to fully comprehend the details of that fatal night other than I knew an iceberg somewhere in the Atlantic had been the cause. It therefore came as quite a surprise when our planned route passed just north of the mark where the infamous cruise liner sank one hundred years ago.

This apparently tied in with the warning of growlers. It turns out they are not a type of angry sea animal but small pieces of ice that have broken free. When I say small, I mean the size of an average car and definitely substantial enough to cause some serious damage to a seventy foot racing yacht – or so we were told.

These facts hardly seemed significant especially when on day four I was still in my shorts, but then overnight it changed. Suddenly I had on all of my layers and sat shivering on deck whilst scanning the chilly waters for potentially dangerous growlers. I am pleased to say we have passed through the danger zone and left the sites of the two aforementioned film tragedies in our wake.

On a lighter note the skipper mentioned in his brief that every day we would be rewarded with a “happy hour” at one of the watch changeovers. He continued to explain that it rarely lasts an hour and actually isn't even always that happy. I must admit the point of it was lost on me until yesterday. We combined a birthday, the improving weather and most importantly a win through the first Scoring Gate as an excuse to be happy for a whole hour.

It took us just over a week to reach this celebratory milestone yet this shouldn't cause you concern - we are in good spirits far too regularly to celebrate it daily.

Decorating the Deck

I learnt through sport to always take the rough with the smooth but that did not help me to prepare for the real Atlantic. The Caribbean weather and spirit is now but a distant memory. I had started to worry as after each day of mirror flat sea came another beautiful sunrise with more perfect cruising conditions – the longer this lasted the more shocking the contrast was going to be and sure enough, it was too good to be true. After four days of topping up my tan, reading my book and being cooked for there was a dramatic change; reality hit.

Along came the Atlantic I had heard about - the temperatures suddenly dropped overnight as the wind and sea state began to build. This was what I was expecting and had signed up for; it is supposed to be a race after all. With the change in conditions came a change in pace. Suddenly there was work to be done and I had a chance to make myself useful.

Unfortunately my body had other ideas and pulled a pretty good get out of work card in the form of seasickness. I was determined not to be defeated but I had a fight on my hands. After any small amount of exertion, whether that was helping to change a sail or even just putting on my wet weather gear, I had to hang my head over the side. Sadly I did not always make it and have to admit I succeeded in decorating the deck a couple of times. Once looking at the horizon with the fresh air on my face all would seem fine again, as would lying in my bunk, but it was the effort getting from one to the other that I cannot describe.

During my time hugging the toilet basin something occurred to me. I had always wondered why the “bathroom” on a boat was known as “the heads”? My personal conclusion: it is down to the fact that your head is likely to spend as much time there as any other part of your body when at sea – I am open to any other suggestions.

I had just started to recover and managed my first small meal. I thought at last I could make myself useful. Alas the one small task that was asked of me only succeeded in adding to the previous decoration albeit in a slightly different way. I tripped on deck and spilt sausage grease all over the ropes. I thought I had made a good job of cleaning it up with the help of a few waves until the skipper muttered something. Apparently he had presumed it was the result of some more seasickness but then felt the grease on his fingers. The rest of my watch kindly covered for me but I had to confess.

Thankfully we are only just half way so I still have time to redeem myself.

The Calm Before the Storm

Heather Fell is currently competing in Race 14 from New York to Londonderry of the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race as part of Team Jamaica Get Alright.

The nerves have suddenly kicked in. Due to problems with my visa, just getting out to join the Clipper Race has been such a rollercoaster ride that I feel exhausted and drained of all emotion. I arrived in New York only thirty six hours ago and felt nothing. I was dropped at North Cove Marina to meet the Clipper team and felt so unappreciative when they asked how excited I was; I was numb. I put it down to jet lag but in hindsight I realise it was nerves. As an athlete I would yawn continuously and always sleep on the bus on the way to the venues. I think it must be a coping strategy. After an afternoon nap and two undisturbed sleeps the reality of the task ahead is finally dawning on me and about time too as we are one hour away from leaving land and won’t see it again for another two and a half weeks.

I am doing my best to commit to paper how I feel. Right now it is excitement - I just want to get going and find out what is in store. I've heard enough and it varies from "it'll be the best experience of you life" through to "you've no idea what you've let yourself in for". It’s time to find out for myself.

Everyone else seems to be doing jobs right now. I've offered to help and hate being a spare part so thought I'd get out of the way and have a moment to myself. There’s a hubbub of activity on all the surrounding boats and the skippers are all away at the final briefing. I get the feeling Jamaica - Get All Right (the boat I'm on) is laid back. We have had meetings the last two mornings and, afraid of doing anything wrong, I've been sat ready on the dot waiting to go as the crew arrive in dribs and drabs over the course of the next thirty minutes. I'm certainly not complaining as it’s allowed me a moment to reflect on what has happened the past few weeks. I genuinely can’t believe that I’m about to sail across the Atlantic!

Cottonwool doesn't always help

As an athlete I never liked to wrap myself in cotton wool. When people suggested something I wanted to do might be dangerous, I would remind them that being on our roads is far riskier - for example commuting by bicycle.

The last two years have seen a dramatic increase in people cycling in the UK and not just for pleasure. Ever increasing numbers are opting to commute by bicycle and I take my hat off to them braving the weather and traffic on a daily basis.

At the end of a sportive I took part in a few weeks ago, the route took us over Tower Bridge and through the centre of London. Admittedly I was tired from peddling all day but I was surprised by the amount of concentration required to keep alert and respond to the traffic, pedestrians and numerous junctions. For me it was the most challenging part of the ride and made cycling up a hill in the pouring rain on Dartmoor seem far more appealing.

I've always felt rather safe cycling in the Westcountry until I had a recent reality check. My friend and I needed to cycle along a relatively busy road on the bank holiday. It can be unnerving as the cars overtake although the majority give you a wide berth. We were in a nice rhythm when I suddenly heard my friend shout - he'd felt the wind from a vans wing mirror rush past his ear. A very considerate driver stopped, having taken the vehicles details, to check we were okay. It was only then that I realised how near a miss it had been.

Thankfully these drivers are in the minority but it served as an important reminder that we should all be more mindful of fellow road users. I hope we continue to get more people riding bicycles.

Love our small world

Bumping into people I know is one of the things I love about being at home in Devon. I may live on a farm with the nearest neighbours a good few hundred metres away but I still know them better than my next door neighbours from my time in London or Bath. It has always baffled me that the more dense the population the less people I seem to know and that is part of the reason I get excited if I bump into someone in an unexpected place.

A few weeks ago I was in Lausanne, Switzerland representing the BOA athletes commission for just two days. As I was checking out on the last morning a girl tentatively came and asked me if I was Heather, and then apologetically asked if I remembered her. I was racking my brains but early in the morning in a foreign country I was struggling to find any connections. Feeling slightly embarrassed I had to admit that I didn't recognise her but she soon put me out of my misery when she introduced herself. It all came flooding back although I think I can be excused as she was a close neighbour of my grandparents who I haven't seen for over twenty years. She is from Chagford and moving to Australia; what were the chances of bumping into her in a hotel lobby in Switzerland?

A less dramatic coincidence happened just a few days after when I was on my way home from Belfast. I'd been trying to arrange a meeting with someone in London but coordinating our diaries was proving difficult. After I had a flight cancelled I ended up flying the next day and found myself in Belfast airport at the same time. It is a small world.

A bonus day

It isn't very often that a weekend away becomes longer than you expected. Last weekend I was in Northern Ireland to watch the cycling spectacle that is the Giro D’Italia with friends and this is exactly what happened to me.

I arrived at the airport on Sunday night for the last return flight to Bristol only to discover it was delayed by nearly three hours which would have left me with no transport connection home. My heart sank at this news and I had visions of camping out at Bristol airport waiting for the buses to start running again the next morning.

Cursing a certain 'orange' airline I headed to the help desk, not sure exactly what I was hoping for as I didn't imagine they'd provide hotels or taxis in this type of situation. Running out of ideas I suggested I could travel on a different flight and was quietly impressed when this was met with a polite reply of:  "Yes, of course Madame".

Definitely not the response I was expecting and I wasn't even charged a fee. This was great news although perhaps not for my friends. I'd been dropped off at the airport, said my goodbyes and waved them off; it was slightly awkward when I had to call them just 30 minutes later and ask not only to be picked up but to stay one more night. I'm very lucky to have such accommodating friends who so kindly hosted me for another twenty-four hours and I got to enjoy an extra day in surprisingly sunny Belfast.