A R T I C L E S

The Loss of Ana
by Jason Baggaley

Europe 1 New Man STAR 2000

This is not an easy email to write, but as many of you will know I was not terribly successful in this years single-handed yacht race across the Atlantic. At almost the halfway point I had to leave Ana, and was picked up by the NCC Baha.

I had been preparing for this race for about 2 years - and for the last 6 to 9 months it had totally taken over my life.

The race started on the 4th June from Plymouth, I had taken the boat down there 3 weeks before hand and had her very well prepared, indeed for the week before the start I was largely able to relax and enjoy the company of other competitors and friends amid the general confusion at QAB in Plymouth. The work that had been done in Troon over the preceding few months had put Ana into great shape - at the safety inspection I was told how well prepared she was etc!

The morning of the start was hard - saying those goodbyes to friends and family. I had a good start and think I led our class at the Eddystone - I was certainly pleased that after about 3 or 4 hours I passed just in front of Senza Confini - the fastest boat in our class. The weather was kind and fairly good progress made.

Before the race my strategy was to go north on the Great Circle route, this is physically more challenging but a shorter distance. By the morning of the start I had changed this plan to follow the rhumb line instead - this was because of icebergs as far south as 42deg North - the start was at 50!, and problems with fog over the Grand Banks.

My strategy worked well and I quickly settled into a routine. I hardly saw the sun, and found that I hand steered less and less. I was pleased at how well my food was going, and although I lost a nearly 10 litres of water when a cap failed on one container I was careful to eat and drink enough. It was very easy to become dehydrated, or to forget to eat when a lot was happening - but just like in triathlon you have to pace yourself - Sasha's home made flapjacks helped! The first big blow was unpleasant and I had to reduce sail to my smallest storm jib and trysail. I had no contact with the outside world and often felt very lonely - I would spend long periods sitting at the chart table, and realised actually how important friends and family were. A good luck picture from Sasha / Ellana and a painting from Letty would bring a tear my eye! I had no idea how I was doing, but felt it was probably very badly as the conditions were not good for the boat. 

I nearly decided to turn back on day four as my second autopilot mounting had collapsed (I only had 2) - they were new for the race, and should have been fine, but the wood blocks cracked and fell apart. Although a full gale was blowing I managed to rig a repair, and decided to continue - I don't like giving up.

Wednesday 14th June was a major day. I was gong fast down wind, and making good progress - The weather had cleared and it stopped raining for the first time in 4 days. I gave the boat a good clean, and managed 5 mins on deck in the nude to get a bit of fresh air around parts that had been damp for 11 days. The wind started to get up and I had to get a reef in fast as the autopilot was having difficulty coping. I got dressed quickly - my second try top and trousers of the race. The barometer was in free fall, and I felt very uneasy - I had managed to get a weatherfax that afternoon, and wasn't expecting much change soon. At about 1935 I decided to steer for a bit to make the most of the fast conditions before putting in another reef. Within 30 mins it got hard to see the waves, and then suddenly all hell let loose - in 10 mins the wind doubled in strength and turned through 180 degrees. I reduced sail as fast as I could, the no 3 come down, and a third reef went in. Still the boat was overpowered, I could hardly stand as I took the storm jib up on deck, as soon as I could get it ready I dropped the main totally and had the storm jib set with the helm lashed over. We were going in a lousy direction slowly, but I decided to hole up for the night - my log entry said Mary (Falk - record holder for our class) would not approve - but I felt I had no choice. I settled down for the night.

At 0550 Thursday morning I was sitting on the floor boards mopping up the bilges. The weather was as wild as ever and the clock had dropped to 994, and was still falling fast. The wind was at least a force 10 - more than I like to be out in! All of a sudden the boat was thrown over. The floor board I was sitting on hit me on the head, as did a can of food. When the boat came upright it was a mess down below - we had been knocked beyond 120 degrees - the masthead had been well under water. I was unhurt, but rather pissed off - there was a lot of clearing up to do and a fair bit of water came in down the mast. 

The clear up could wait though - I decided to drop the storm jib and just lie a hull. Whilst I was in the cockpit sorting out the lines I saw a large wave start to break above us, and grabbed hold of the lifelines ( I was also clipped to Ana via a harness and strop) - we were capsized again - at one point I was hanging from the lifelines up to my chest in water - I can remember thinking "bugger - these clothes were dry last night and had another 4 days before they were due to be changed". 

I got the jib down and set 2 spinnakers and my main anchor as a sea anchor - the second capsize had shook me up and it was now gloves off even if I lost 2 sails. I went down below to start the tidy up. It is amazing how things land; some things properly stowed, only on the side of the boat! Whilst bailing we were hit for a third time, I don't know if we did a full 360 or not as it is a bit of a blur, I do have a nice bruise on the side of my head! My first clear thought is knowing that we had lost the rig. Not good news. By this stage I was in my survival suit and the priority was to cut the mast free before it damaged the hull. That done I had one of Sasha's flapjacks and a bottle of water, and started to bail again. It became clear that I had a leak, although only fairly minor.

My position was sadly now untenable, and I decided I had no choice but to set off my EPIRB - I was aware this would cause worry for my mother etc, but the signal would send a distress message to the rescue centre in Halifax, Canada. I also rewired my D+ GPS so that it would report my position to race control. 
My log entry for 06ish reads in big writhing " tits up 47:22.168N 33:43.26W 2kts 079deg mag "

I did not know how long it would take for help to arrive, or if I could be seen - the sea was white with driven spray, and I was now very small. I thought there might be a ship nearby as my radar detector went off - so I sent up flair, but soon realised it was a false alarm. 

I tried to relax - every 15 - 20 mins I would bail, in-between I would eat, drink and I even tried to doze. That didn't work, and at 1200 I started to read the history of Shackleton and the Endurance. I then heard a voice on my VHF - the NCC Baha was about half a mile away. Before I could get on deck they said they had seen me - conditions had improved, and they saw my storm
jib in the water. I felt quite emotional!

I rushed on deck as quickly as I could, but slowed by my survival suit, it was half undone as I rested and is a bugger to do up. I was greeted on deck by a wonderful sight! As the NCC Baha manoeuvred to come along side I just sat there crying, patting the deck saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Ana" A rope was thrown and I clambered aboard with one bag - I had to leave my baby
behind to gently sink - I couldn't even look at her, she had been so good to me, but I had let her down.

The NCC Baha is a chemical carrier, and was heading for Sweden. The master and chief engineer are British, and gave mw a warm welcome - I was looked after well, and able to speak to Mum and Sasha quickly. Although bruised and sore, and possibly with mild concussion I was safe and unhurt.

I have now lost 2 Ana's. I must stop as its too emotionally draining.

Baggers.