Rites of Passage

We tracked down London freelance author Johanna Payton when we heard she'd be sailing with Dee Cafari and Sam Davies on their Round Britain record attempt in the Open 60 Aviva.  Jo couldn't make the trip for reasons detailed below, but she's written an excellent description of her experience training with the girls below, and yes; she's a hottie.  Speaking of Sam Davies, she's just signed on to team Artemis with co-skipper Sydney Gavignet for the TransAt Jacques Vabre; a blazing fast duo for sure with dolid chances, and you can check out the thread for the latest.  In the meantime, enjoy Jo's piece.

Everybody’s heard of Dame Ellen. Until this year’s Vendee Globe, McArthur’s (household) name was synonymous with women’s sailing. The plucky soul who braved oceans on her lonesome was not going quietly when it came to ruling sailing’s PR waves. Like most non-sailors, I too was under the impression that Ellen McArthur was a sporting anomaly.

In January this year I was harangued by an enthusiastic publicist, keen for me to include Dee Caffari in a piece I was writing about women doing traditionally ‘male’ jobs. The name didn’t ring any bells. As a landlocked freelance journalist, writing about the health, wealth and relationship woes of British women from my London office, sailing superstars were way off my radar.

A couple of days later another publicist came out of the woodwork, offering an interview with Sam Davies. That name wasn’t familiar either, but I soon found out she was another chick stuck well into the Vendee Globe. So there were two ‘Dame Ellens’ out there on the high seas, competing on equal terms with the boys, and I knew nothing about it. Unlike their lauded predecessor, who always struck me as the squeakiest of clean, these girls had a bit of an edge. They were strong, independent women doing something other women could actually aspire to. Hell, Dee Caffari used to be a PE teacher; I thought you had to be born on a monohull to have a shot at sailing success.

I met Caffari for the first time in early March. Aviva was moored outside on the Thames, basking in the glory of her Vendee Globe success. I had no preconceptions, knowing very little about Dee. I guessed she’d be a bit posh. I was wrong. Dee Caffari was chirpy, grounded and friendly. She gushed infectiously about sailing to such an extent I stopped thinking she must be a masochist and actually fancied giving it a go. Dee is a strong and physical woman, but I’d seen photos of Sam Davies, a similar build to me.

I shared my one and only sailing story with Dee; I’d tried a school sailing class on Doe Park Reservoir in Yorkshire circa 1985. Huddled on a boat in lashing wind and rain, I’d inevitably been bonked on the head by the boom. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. ‘You should try again,’ Dee said. ‘We’re doing the Calais Round Britain Race for the all-female record. Come along.’ I left the hotel on a high. Why not? Dee said herself, I didn’t need experience. I could just sit and eat sweets for a week, if I wanted to, she said.

The next three months were filled with excitement and apprehension as I did my research and realised there was more to sailing on an Open 60 than lying on the deck eating Haribo. During one of my meetings with the team, they snickered about a journalist who asked if she could do a leg of the Clipper 09-10 in her jogging gear; I expected Aviva to house bunk beds, shower room and fully operational toilet! Finding out I’d be sleeping in 45 minute bursts on a beanbag and hovering precariously over a bucket did not fill me with joy.

I also realised that the dreaded recession was taking its toll on the sailing calendar; the 2009 Calais Round Britain Race was cancelled due to insufficient entries. For the all-girl crew, who were still going for the record, this was a golden opportunity to sail in the optimum weather window. The team would be on standby from the 3rd of June. It wouldn’t be quite so easy for this self-employed mother-of-one to throw caution to the upwind.

In spite of these reservations, I was eager to train in late May and get on that boat for the record.

The two days of training were illuminating. Being hoisted onboard Aviva from a rib created a James Bond-style initiation to Open 60 sailing. It wasn’t my most elegant moment, but I was there to share the first moments of Dee and Sam’s maiden voyage.

As an outsider, I intently observed the girls at work. I Twittered incessantly, sending photos and snippets for the sailing fans who have embraced social networking, whilst holding on for dear life as Aviva leaned 45 degrees and tore up the Solent. I enjoyed waving at star-struck sailors as our ‘celebrity’ cargo streaked past in a flash of yellow and white.

Although the team, under the guidance of trainer Tanguy Leglatin, had resolved to communicate more openly, it was hard to tell if this was happening. Much of the communication is non-verbal. It’s a nod or a nudge as sails are changed, an implicit sense of trust that translates when a sail is caught in the rigging and the girls know instinctively who will bomb down the deck to rectify the situation (usually Sam). I didn’t need to communicate my ill-preparedness when we hit an unexpectedly perky wave and I went flying across the deck. Dee lunged to stop me taking a header over the side whilst Sam disappeared into the headsail, hanging off the bow in delight. The first real moment of exhilaration – and far from being terrified, I wanted more.

There wasn’t much chatter onboard, although for a bunch of accomplished solo and short handed sailors, any banter is a bonus. The conversation was mostly about mainsails and reefs, but occasionally veered off course when a joke about the blessed lack of builders’ bums onboard was cracked, and ancient crushes the girls had harboured on fellow sailor boys were unearthed. I felt for Isabelle Joschke, the French Figaro sailor, who pointed out at debrief that it was sometimes hard for her to follow the fast strands of English. The gossip was much easier for me to appreciate.

Throughout training, I warmed most to boat captain Alex Sizer. With a dry sense of humour and a tendency to dodge a lobster pot at the last minute, Alex was key in keeping the team grounded, and smiling. Navigator Miranda Merron exudes wisdom - and is always on top of the refreshment situation. Much revolves around frequent snack times. There is no doubt that Dee’s ‘Miss Motivator’ approach in the cockpit keeps everyone focused, even when the crew was distracted by another round of biscuits.

At the final debrief, Sam, the more realistic of the superstar duo, cajoled Dee into addressing emergency tactics. ‘Well, if I fall off,’ Dee chuckled. ‘I expect you’ll come back and get me?’ I usually see the danger in any situation, but onboard Aviva with Dee in command, I’ve never felt safer. Dee Caffari is the enduring, archetypal teacher and I finished the training with a renewed sense of self belief. Dee’s mantra is, ‘it’s a beautiful thing’, and after a couple of days in her company, I was inclined to agree.

My editors unfortunately, did not concur. With six kit bags stacked in orderly piles in Dee’s office and weather forecasts being obsessively analysed, I had pestered and exhausted every contact in my little black book. Like Isabelle, who had to be available for the Quiberon Solo on June 14th, my place on the boat was already in jeopardy due to the uncertainty of the departure date. My cut off point was June 9th, at which point pesky issues such as paid work and childcare had to take precedent.

I also knew I couldn’t sail without a commission for my adventure. I had expected editors to bite my hand off. Surely any women’s magazine worth its salt would want to feature a bunch of sassy, seafaring record breakers? Sadly, I met with unbendable opposition. Either they’d featured Sam Davies previously (even two years ago constitutes sailing ‘overkill’ to consumer magazine editors), simply didn’t ‘do’ sailing, or deemed the feat too wimpy for print. One editor told me she only covered feats of endurance if, say, they involved taking seven years out to walk from the Horn of Africa to the furthest tip of South America!

It was with great regret that I waved the girls off on June 15th, but I felt that my life had been changed. In spite of missing the main event I’d been bitten by the sailing bug. I was determined to challenge the preconceptions and prejudices of the consumer media by badgering them until they’d let me write about this fun, addictive and exciting sport.

I’m still trying, plugging away, hoping to find a chink in an editor’s armour so I can spread the word. In this small way, my own ‘girl power’ may make a difference. I’ve learnt that women’s sailing is about so much more than Dame Ellen’s Vendee Globe achievements almost a decade ago. Women’s sailing is alive and kicking, and if a landlubber like me can be converted, anything is possible.

-Jo (www.johannapayton.co.uk)