BOB AND DAZ'S VERY BIG ADVENTURE
by Sophie Galleymore Bird

[Author’s note: this piece was written for Clarks Shoes, our sponsor for the 1994 Two-Handed Transatlantic Race, from Plymouth to Newport, Rhode Island. It was published by Clarks in their in-house magazine as an example of success through team work, and Bob and Daz gave a talk at their annual managers' conference, with the boat, Clarks Active Air, parked in the entrance to the conference centre in Harrogate. The boat couldn't have been finished in time for the race without the help of innumerable people. Our grateful thanks to you all!]

They were headed away from the start line, the memory of months of frenzied preparation fading away on the wind with the farewells of the crowd at Queen Anne's Battery. Darren turned to his skipper, Bob, and said, "I can't believe it, we're really going."

This was the first moment Darren had had time to think about the race since Bob first suggested it the previous November. Now it was June 5th, the winds had eased as forecast, the adrenaline was flowing and they were off. As Bob remembers, "With Darren at the helm we had a fantastic start up on the line with the big boys, before losing our wind to the helicopters filming overhead."

The realities of racing were made clear to them before they were even out of sight of Britain. Bob was on helm and Darren down below stowing all the gear that had been thrown into the hulls in the last minute scramble to get everything ready for the start. They were nearing the Eddystone Lighthouse when "there was a loud crack and we slewed round to the left. Darren was immediately up on deck and we both assumed the worst, thinking we had broken a daggerboard or ripped off a rudder blade, but we couldn't find anything wrong. It wasn't until the next day, after a cold, wet night beating to weather, that the dolphin striker sheared off." Darren was on watch and and saw it go. He told Bob that without it the mast beam would be unlikely to withstand the pounding of a transatlantic race without a good chance of structural failure. Only 24 hours into the race, still in sight of Land's End and their first dilemma. A professional repair would mean putting into port and valuable time being lost.

Instead Darren, the boat's designer, came up with a quick and effective repair that could be completed hove-to, involving fittings and bits of Kevlar. One quick trip to the top of the mast to disentangle halyards and they were on their way again.

Then, barely past the Isles of Scilly, the auto-pilot ceased to function because of the constant soaking it was getting, beating out of the Western Approaches. They would now have to hand-steer, possibly to weather, for just under 3,000 miles, which would be bound to take them over their estimated voyage time of 20 days. Darren began dividing their food into rations to last 30 days. If they had not been carrying a water desalinator they would have had to retire.

That night they passed Wendy and Brian Rimmer on British Tiger, who had overtaken them while the repairs were being carried out. The next day the wind died, stranding them in the middle of a 'wind hole', a high pressure area, the first of many. Frustrating as this was it gave them an opportunity to tidy their earlier, hasty repairs and to dry everything out; "Those first two days," said Darren, "were the wettest I've ever been in my life." That night they sailed on a flat sea, under a clear, moonless sky. With the Milky Way and all of the galaxy reflected in that still water it was "as if we were flying in space", retros of fluorescence blazing behind.

Bob took up the story. "With no wind all night Darren and I spent a short time rowing, until the ghost of a wind appeared from the north-west. Armed with a huge masthead spinnaker, kindly lent us by Pete Goss, we dragged Active Air to the south west. Unfortunately the wind blew only about two knots, so it was a slow, excruciating escape from our first wind hole, but at least we were moving.

"The wind from the north west increased and we had an exhilarating downwind sleigh ride, surfing along at up to 17 knots. We covered well over 200 miles on this, our best day's run. Unfortunately the kite blew, but we put up our second spinnaker with continued good progress." Until the next day, when the wind died. When it came up again it was right on the nose.

The weather they had experienced so far became the pattern for the trip. Strong headwinds followed by flat calms. The spinnaker was put away and was of no further use for the next 2,000 miles. They settled into the routine of what they now knew would be a long trip. Darren got into reading off-watch. He was down in the leaward, dry, hull one day when a 6-inch access hatch in the centre of the escape hatch stove in. "It was like a fire hose being turned on."

Bob, on deck, saw Darren appear through the main hatch. "He looked like a drowned rat, shouting, 'Bear away, you've broken the escape hatch!', then he disappeared down below. My imagination led me to believe that there was now an 18-inch hole in the port hull and that it was going to sink until the buoyancy compartments became effective." Bob kept the boat on course, which kept the water from flooding in. By the time Darren effected a repair all Bob's clothes, and his sleeping bag, were afloat.

After the first week at sea they began to sight dolphins, pilot whales, large Mincke, northern Bottle-nosed whales and the occasional turtle. The only reminder they had that the human world continued was the daily explosion as Concorde passed overhead, and sporadic communication with Bob's eight-year-old son Robert and his classmates at Langley School in Plymouth via an HF radio. Until all power went, leaving them with no equipment other than a hand-held radio and GPS. From then on they had to relay their position via passing ships. The wait for those back home became anxious as direct contact ceased.

Out at sea the boys were happy. At night dolphins provided a pyrotechnic display of phosphorescence as they hurtled about the boat, erupting out of the water and diving beneath, each dolphin a flaming fireball of light. Off the coast of Nova Scotia a twin-prop plane appeared, swooped down and buzzed them. "We got really excited," said Darren, "we knew we were near land, we were nearly there."

The last leg of the journey was the most frustrating, both for the crew and for the welcome party that had gathered in Newport. Clarks, their sponsor, had sent two emissaries as well as Bob's son and Darren's [then] girlfriend to greet them. The boat was expected on July 4th, in time for the Independence Day fireworks, but on the morning of that day, becalmed again, Bob and Darren had to send word via a fishing vessel that they would be at least another two days. Their celebratory magnum of champagne had to be returned to the fridge.

On the morning of the 6th they rounded the final buoy and ate the last of their supplies as a gesture of faith. Their meal consisted of one shared cup-a-soup with half a bag of vege-mix and some fruit dumplings added. For the last week they had been living on one cup of food each per day.

Now they were reaching and making 16 knots. They reckoned they were three hours away. Then the wind dropped, and dropped further. Every time they calculated how far they still had to go they were three hours away. But, slowly, they were covering the distance.

Within sight of Newport harbour they met one of their competitors, PRB Vandee, on her way home. Her crew waved and cheered and Billy Black, the photographer taking pictures of the 60-foot monohull as she left, radioed to shore to let them know Clarks Active Air was coming in.

Once they had passed Fort Adams at the finish they were towed into harbour, escorted by the harbourmaster's boat with flashing lights and whooping sirens. Guns were fired in salute as they were led once round the harbour in a victory circuit. "When the guns went off I knew it was over, we'd made it," said Darren. "What a buzz!" Over a month after their departure from Plymouth, the boat was tied up and Bob and Darren stepped, both some two stone lighter, onto the pontoon in Newport.

Our thanks to the organisers of a great race, and to all the other competitors for taking part.

To find out more about Clarks adventures since it was sold go to www.catweaselcat.de

On the dock in Newport - Bob and Daz
with their welcome party, which
iincluded Philip Thomas from Clarks