Innovation K2 in the Rolex Middle Sea Race 2004

22nd-27th October 2004

The Middle Sea race, a 610 mile circumnavigation of the islands of Sicily, Stromboli, Pantelleria and Lampedusa from Malta, has been described by Ted Turner as the most beautiful sailing race course in the world. And with a Maltese (Joe) and a Sicilian (Armando) amongst LCSC's active racing membership, and our Volvo 60, Innovation K2 able to make a detour east into the Med en route to the ARC, it seemed like a race that had to be done.

Demand for this journey into the unknown - as far as LCSC members were concerned - surpassed our expectations. 17 of us assembled for a pre-race practice in Malta, including 3 local Maltese - Joe's cousin Winston, 16 year old Darren and Teddy Borg - who was to film the race itself from our boat for his local tv programme. Rumours of a likely diet of pork pies and scotch eggs had clearly reached Malta, as we were to be sponsored in the form of food for the race by Winston's company, The Catering Centre.

Winston also ensured we got plenty of coverage from the local press, and we were joined for our training sail by a journalist from the Times of Malta. As a result we certainly punched way above our weight as far as media coverage - see the internet links for:

Big challenge for Alfa Romeo
War reporter takes a break racing boats
Creature comfortless

The weather for our practice day reminded us that this was not the Fastnet we were training for. Despite it being the end of October the air temperature was over 30 degrees - and after the physical effort of hoisting sails and packing spinnakers we insisted to Peter that we be allowed to dive off the boat, into a sea still as warm as 24 degrees. Winston declined - claiming, after Joe had dived in, that he had seen a shark in these waters. Jeremy then noted that he had just seen a whale, as the rest of us leapt in after Joe. We cooled off further that evening outside at the Royal Malta Yacht Club - where Rolex's sponsorship ensured an evening of free drink and food and a live band overlooking the start line of the race. Alas there is no way the Royal Yacht Squadron could host such a party.

We had assumed that the baking sun and lack of wind could not last until the race itself. Alas we were wrong. While the drifting conditions allowed for a full and lengthy viewing of the stunning scenery, particularly of the start in a harbour which seemed impossibly small for 53 boats up to the size of Alfa Romeo, in the first 48 hours of racing we covered only 150 miles. In that time we also changed (and packed…) spinnakers no less than 11 times.

But there was no danger of us getting bored. The start gun itself had ensured that. We had been warned in the race briefing that it was a loud one - and it shook even our skipper as the echo ricocheted around the harbour's high walls. Cowes has nothing on this.

We were also helped on our way by a school of dolphins - 10 of who spent a long while playing in our bow wave, no doubt wondering why something so large could be going quite so slowly.

The next excitement was the Messina Straits, between Italy and Sicily, which fully lived up to their reputation. Greek legend placed the six-headed monster Scylla (Scilla) and the whirlpool Charybdis (Cariddi) in the Straits of Messina and it certainly felt like it to us. A dying wind (from all of 5 knots) that afternoon as we approached Sicily ensured we missed the end of the favourable tide through the narrow part of the gap, and were faced with a long and tricky beat up the shore. This worked for a while - until approaching midnight when Peter tentatively stuck Innovation's bows out round the last headland. To his surprise, control of the boat was taken out of his hands as we performed a very rapid series of 360-degree turns as we shot back down the straits.

Our shock was probably no less than that of the passing shipping - to whom we showed a white flare to ensure they could see us. And we were not alone - we could see all around us the lights of sailing boats being whirled around. This was all too much for the local police - and we were shortly informed that we must motor out of the way of a shipping route - although the race had issued a notice to mariners and we were endangering nothing at that time. On threat of being arrested our skipper did so - and took care to motor only at 90 degrees to our desired course north. Alas this was still to earn us a time penalty - but we were more perturbed by the action of Red Max, a Belgian maxi behind us - who took the instruction as the right to motor due north out of the tide. It was to be a while before we caught them up again.

We finally got through the straits just before dawn. As is typical of tidal gates much of the rest of the fleet had caught us up - and we counted 17 boats at what felt like a race re-start.

And then finally we got some wind! After battling with a J109 (we can beat them in Arbitrator) in 2 knots of wind at 6am, by mid day we had left them all trailing in our wake as we pumped up the water ballast. But the wind was short lived - and died again as we approached Stromboli. The volcano obligingly gave out some sulphurous puffs as we drifted past and one of the many advantages of our 'locals' crew was again underlined as we had plenty time for another history and geography lesson.

The wind stayed fickle all day but the sun shone and at least we were back battling with boats nearer our own size. That night we shot along the north coast of Sicily towards Armando's hometown of Palermo. Spinnaker up, full moon lighting our way, warm enough for shorts and a T shirt, and 17 knots on the clock; it was one of those rare nights when you really don't want to come off watch. Anyway 30 minutes after we reluctantly handed over the wind died back to zero. It was still thus some hours later as another sunny dawn broke to see the local fishermen enjoying perfect lampuki catching conditions.

Then we saw the fisherman setting for home - and a shout from one of them was interpreted on board as them telling us not to worry as the sirocco was coming. And indeed almost immediately we were reefing the main, pumping up the water ballast and shooting away from Jazz, Chris Bull's Commodore's Cup winning boat.

We were now turning the corner down to Pantelleria and nearly at the half-way point. The wind had by then died such that as we turned the next corner Peter suggested a spinnaker. But almost immediately the wind rose back up to over 35 knots and it was instead a case of changing down headsails. Then followed the most spectacular piece of sailing all of us, Peter excepted, had ever seen. 38 miles in 2 hours in pitch dark lit by lightening all round us - and a top speed of 27.6 knots; just the sort of downwind hurtling the Volvo 60s were built for. We finally put a reef in on concerns the wind would get stronger yet - other boats reported up to 52 knots of wind - but shortly thereafter it dropped enough for us to get the spinnaker back up.

But alas it was not to last. At around 03:30 am our (100 ft high) mainsail fell to the deck. Investigation showed that the track holding the main up had pulled out of the mast at the top. In a desperate attempt to keep us racing Jeremy spent the next 4 hours dangling up the mast in very bumpy seas - working out how to get the car back in the track - and which to our huge relief he finally managed. We had a reef in the main and another 150 miles to go - but we were back in the race.

An exhausted crew finally got some sleep and we postponed putting a spinnaker up until daylight and a full assessment of the damage. As dawn broke, and the storm had blown itself out, we were being overtaken by boats with spinnakers up, no doubt wondering why we were sailing with a reef and a number 4 headsail.

Alas that was it for the wind and we were to face another 30 hours of challenging sailing in as little as 2 knots - now with a large reef. Luckily in terms of keeping us focused we have two boats to race against. Thursday morning sees an increasingly thirst crew having a tacking duel all down the northern coast of Malta with one, we manage to stay ahead and put the spinnaker up as we turn into the harbour to beat them over the line. Indeed after we finish we notice we can no longer see them near us, and realise they have gone aground on a reef at the harbour entrance. We turn back to try and help them, but a local passenger boat proves more suited to the task and they are hauled off backwards - and able to finish the race to great cheers.

We are greeted at the dock by the very welcome sight of cold beers - our first for nearly 6 days. We learn that we had been lying 4th on overall time and probably first in our class on handicap when our main fell down, and that the boat behind us at that point had finished some 14 hours earlier. Such is yacht racing, but we are simply delighted to have managed to complete the course.

Back on the dock we chat to Chris Bull. Jazz had finished at 3am that morning. He tells us that his boat had cloecked its fastest ever speed of 24.6 knots and we boast of our own record. We are then introduced to his 'superstar' helmsman. It is my luck that I should meet my childhood hero when my hair is fetchingly tightly matted to my head, I've slept in the clothes I'm wearing for the past 5 days, and I've had 2 beers on an empty and very thirsty stomach. I am sure that Rodney Pattison appreciated my discourse on the joys of helming a Volvo 60.

Then it's time for some serious R&R - something we are learning the Maltese are especially good at. We have dinner outside at the yacht club overlooking the finish line as other boats are finishing, having previously stood in the bar watching the video of our own race. The next day we have a 'cultural' tour of Malta in our own mini bus and with our very own tour guide. Joe has three ages of Maltese history - 'fairly old', 'old' and 'very old'. The temples are indeed very old - we learn from the wardens (after we had bribed our way in after hours and they had then to stop us from climbing all over them) that they were built in 5200 BC. Being Maltese organised the tour was punctuated with many food and drink stops - and Fiona reckons that Mdina in fact should be pronounced 'mmm dinner'.

The next day more R&R with the prize giving - held in the splendid Knights of St John building in downtown Valetta. More (masses more) free food and drink. Rolex announces another 3 years of sponsorship (the race had only 12 entries before Rolex were involved, and indeed some years did not run at all)

Will we be back? Next year is Fastnet year so it's logistically more challenging - and the boat must try and earn its keep somewhere. But I'm trying to persuade our skipper that perhaps Innovation could spend all next winter in Malta - so we can both do the Middle Sea race again, and then explore much more of the fabulous sailing (and food and weather) the region has to offer. We'll keep you posted!

by Hilary Cook


Skipper

Peter Hopps

Crew

Chris Winnington-Ingram *, Hilary Cook, Trevor Davies, Jeremy R. Whiting *, Lex Woodley, Joe Cross, Winston Azzopardi, Darren Cauchi, Fiona Pim, Marie Colvin, Scott Hammond, David Edwards, Peter Horton, Ed Hipkin, Armando d'Amico and Teddy Borg.

* Watch Leader