My Fastnet Experience [1993]

Stormy Weather, S&S design no. 27, October 1933

Martin Smyth, RNLI Drawing Office

Adapted from Self Writer, The Royal National Lifeboat Institution's Staff Magazine; Winter 1993, no. 49. With permission.

I had heard many stories (mostly unpleasant) about the Fastnet Race especially the ’79 event when a slightly lost Caribbean hurricane found itself in the Irish sea. This caused mayhem and havoc with yachts sinking and being dismasted; consequently our lifeboats were doing brisk trade.

Veterans have described it politely as diabolical. It was originally thought of by a certain Mr Martyr and is invariably cold, wet and windy. If you’re lucky its a hard slog to windward and a downhill run home; unlucky and its a beat both ways.

Thus when I received a message from Paul, the skipper of the boat, Stormy Weather, I was to be aboard for the race, in mid-Atlantic (via ham radio and my mum in Barbados!) asking if I would like to take part in the race this summer, I said I would love to. This confirmed the long held opinions of my drawing office colleagues that I was completely bonkers - after all, when you spend your working day designing bits and pieces of lifeboats, you definitely don’t want to participate in an activity where there is a good possibility of being rescued by something last seen on your drawing board (could be rather embarrassing).

With optimistic enthusiasm (hurricanes don’t happen EVERY year) I packed my shorts, shades and sunblock, threw in some thermals and foul weather gear (just in case) and trundled off to Southampton to join Stormy Weather (a good omen - surely with a name like that we could only have nice weather). The crew had recently arrived from the West Indies, encountering a few storms on the way, and were raring to go and do battle - Stormy won the Fastnet outright in 1935 and it was Paul’s dream to win it again!

The race started on a glorious sunny Saturday afternoon off Cowes, Isle of Wight. The Solent was packed with spectator craft and some 250 other sailing yachts intent on assaulting the course. After a long beat down channel we rounded the Longships Lighthouse off Lands End in thick fog and light winds early Monday morning. By lunch time we had a Force 7 gale ‘on the nose’. The seas were building rapidly and the whole crew found that no matter how expensive their foul weather gear was, nothing is truly waterproof when solid water arrives uninvited in the cockpit.

Climbing enormously steep waves we tried to avoid ‘falling off’ the other side - when this happens it is like baling out from a 1st floor window onto concrete. On one occasion we had a practical demonstration of ‘G’ forces when the stove jumped off its gimbals and our eagerly awaited pork casserole was plastered over the floor and deckhead. It was carefully scraped off and served up, as by this stage everyone was so hungry they didn’t care where it had been. [note 1]

This roller coaster ride continued for 24 hours; the wind then slowly abated and the sun came out for the first time since the start. We made the most of it and covered the decks with soggy clothes and sleeping bags hoping they would dry.

However, this was only a temporary lull. 12 hours later we approached the Fastnet rock in the company of some 15 other boats. It was pitch dark, the visibility terrible and the rain and wind started picking up again. The Fastnet lighthouse looked very impressive in the mist with four brilliant arms of lights slowly rotating. It also looked very warm and dry within and we were all envious of the race officials tucked up in the control room (reputedly with a case or two of rum...)

Heading back to Plymouth we were on a beam reach with the wind Force 8 gusting to 9. Well reefed down we stormed along, averaging over 10 knots. Helming is a popular method of ‘warming up’ after an hour of battling with the tiller (no hydraulic wheel steering here!) to control 26 tonnes of boat. Concentration is vital; broach in these conditions and there is a good chance something will break. We seemed to be sailing through rather than over the waves. At times the cockpit and aft deck appeared to be underwater but despite being cold and wet it was exhilarating and the adrenalin was pumping. Wednesday evening we made our landfall on the Bishop Rock off the Scillies and then headed for home. With the wind on our stern we ran for Plymouth crossing the finishing line early Thursday morning. This was Stormy’s fastest time ever and we came second in the Classic Yacht division.

Would I do it again in two years time after experiencing such appalling weather? Of course, I would love to!

Point of Interest: Stormy Weather was built in 1934 in New York and owes her name to Lena Horne a jazz singer. When the original owner of the boat heard Lena singing the song "Stormy Weather" he decided that would be the name for his boat!

Notes :

[ Back ] Footnote 1: I was off-watch, cooking une casserole de porc, oignons, tomates, fines herbes et pommes de terre au vin blanc, épicé à l'Auergnat, one of the crew's favourites. The stove did jump its gimbals and there was slight spillage. The galley was fine -- a certain amount of Irish Sea water through the skylight cover had ensured near-clinical cleanliness. So I returned a couple of bits of the ingredients to the pot, with another half bottle of Sauvignon, simmered for a few minutes, and served... In a quarter of a million miles over a quarter of a century, this was a unique and exceptional occurrence; our Force10 stove (unpaid advertising) ensured tens of thousands of hot meals and drinks -- including this pork casserole. The Skipper, 2024.