Mahon Regatta On Mariquita

Oh my goodness. Our first day racing in the Mahon classic yacht regatta in Menorca and I do believe that at one point even my eyeballs were sweating. It dripped – no, sorry – poured from every pore in our bodies. Being a classic yacht we have a significant lack of modern instruments on board so I have to admit I have no idea what the temperature rose to. I just know that it was hot.

I do apologise if you have come here expecting to read about delicious food and find a recipe or two and have instead been more than understandably ‘put off’ by my telling you about such profuse bodily leaking. Unfortunately for you it is, as you can probably tell, consuming our very lives.

I did cook a dinner for four guests last night. The crew got a defrosted, pre cooked chicken casserole. I have been most organised for this regatta. Knowing that we would have racing and VIP’s staying on board spurred me into a cooking frenzy and I filled my small freezer up. Anything to make my life just a little bit easier. But even a relatively simple 2 course meal for the guests had me wilting with heat exhaustion in my little galley.  I should really have served ice cream for desert but couldn’t help myself with some little, plump fresh figs I had procured. I ended up turning the oven on for maximum heat effect to bake the juicy little bulbs of sweetness which I quartered, stuffed with mascarpone, drizzled with honey and scattered with a good handful of a walnut crumble topping. I of course made sure that I cooked a little too many. Scattered with a little fresh, chopped mint they were juicy and nutty and everything you would want in a desert to be honest. I could be more than a little addicted to figs and may try a little pasta recipe I’ve heard of with figs and chilli’s…

I’ll let you know how that goes when I get to make it.

Oh and by the way! We came first today! Well done us! It certainly helps to make the racing easier to deal with in the heat when you have a cracking spinnaker finish in the port entrance. Very cool. So we’re pretty pleased with ourselves. Let’s hope we keep up the performance. There are rumours that there is a lot of wind on its way… potential for a lot of fun.

I’ll let you know how we get on with that. If I haven’t fully melted by then. I’m a true English girl at heart and could happily do with some rain. I’ll put an order in for some clouds and hope they get here soon. Thanks for reading. Wish us luck with the rest of the regatta.

Cheers!

Our beautiful Mariquita heading down wind and winning our race.

A Short Diary of A Classic Yacht regatta

Waiting for the wind...

I've been a bit busy racing in the Palma classic yacht regatta. The sailing has been brilliant, the weather - hot. And internet access has been limited. So I have been writing a sort of diary of the regatta, short snippets of the days events. I hope it captures a little picture of the last week aboard Mariquita;

Friday’s race diary;

42 degrees. No I’m not lost or changing the name of my blog, that’s how hot it was in Palma today. Now I’m sure all you guys back home in the UK are cursing me for complaining due to your lack of sunshine so far this summer, but really, 42 degrees? When you’re wearing traditional heavy cotton sailing trousers, hot heavy cotton t-shirts and heavy safety belts with harness, rigging knife and spike attached; let me gently suggest to you that you really do not need 42 degrees heat to add to the discomfort.

Try 42 degrees and no wind too. Not a puff. Sitting on a boat that’s drifting in the bay of Palma waiting for some breeze to start the classic yacht racing; mix that with very little shade and the full force of the sun on you at around the hours of midday - what a giggle.

Then out of the force of around a hundred sailor’s prayers, the wind came. It literally hit us, from oily flat sea and droopy flags to perky waves and full sails driving the momentum we all needed to stir us back into a fighting race crew with full sailing mojo. The sails were hoisted, the race sequence began and thank Neptune we were off.

It can take a few tacks and gybes to adjust from no wind and no action what-so-ever to heeled over, harnessed on, working ropes under a powerful rush of water and shouting to be heard above the general din and clunk of a wooden boat going full pelt under fully powered up sails. But it’s pretty cool.

After waiting so long for the wind it finally came and some of us got pretty wet!

Saturday’s race diary;

Oh yeah! what a day. No delay and a clean start with wind. The race today was a fight. We pulled ahead of Moonbeam 4 on the first beat up to the first mark and there we stayed. We need to fight hard to stay in front of Moonbeam so we did. Some great tactics and a lot of swift hauling up of sails, loads of sail changes and a lot of sweat lost. The temperature was still well up there in the 40’s but the breeze helped to keep our energy levels high enough to stay in the lead.

Strength and honour!!!

What a day and what a great way to finish the regatta here in Palma.

Sunday Morning

There are a few sore heads this morning. Turns out, if you’re really tired from a weeks racing and 40 degrees heat and then win the last race with style and aplomb, it would seem you then have the ability to go out and party till the wee hours. Breakfast was an amusing affair of fried eggs and tales of last night’s adventures; who got up to what, who went to which clubs and who woke up fully dressed etc. I’m sure you’ve been there too.

I, thankfully, made it home at just about a reasonable hour and I am very smugly pouring people glasses of coke with ice and lemon and considering making them pizza. Bless ‘em.

I’m pretty tired though and Mariquita and her slightly weary crew will be leaving Palma tonight at midnight to make our way to Mahon for the next regatta which starts on Wednesday! Yay….

It’s not been easy blogging since we’ve been here what with all the sailing, cooking and lack of internet. So I hope to make it up to you soon. For now, I’ll regale you with regatta stories, short but sweet especially since the beautiful Mariquita, 100 years old this year, has done so well.

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for recipes and sailing 

Cheers!      

Water balloons!

The Storm

I found this piece of English homework I wrote when I was 14 or 15 years old. You could say that my working on a classic yacht now is no huge shock really. Sailing and boats definately become a part of you and I clearly had a vivid picture in my mind of the scene I was writing about. I also quite clearly was enjoying thumbing through my thesaurus at the time of writing. Some big words to impress my English teacher. Mrs Gibbs was her name. She was lovely, I wonder where she is now.

It is Sunday and we the crew are absolutely shattered. Some precentage of that is from having had 5 days classic yacht sailing and I think another huge percentage is from having such a great time of it in Barcelona. It was a brilliant regatta. We came second overall. Moonbeam 3 came first and well done to them. Yesterday the wind really blew and we wore harnesses and life jackets and reefed our huge mainsail. It was no storm but my staysail team and I were hauling on the jigger up to our waists in water for alot of the race. Awsome. We had our one win and a first over the line so we were very happy with our performance this week.

Drying out the foulies and shoes after a pretty strong day on the water.

3 Regattas down, 5 to go. But for the mean time we will stay in Barcelona and rest our weary bodies and take care of our very old but beautiful boat. 

Mariquita heading downwind

The Storm

The dark blue universe of sea was a reflection of the clear blue dome of sky above it. The lustrous dazzling of the sun's rays beat down upon the silently calm, mirror-like water, increasing the resplendent glow.

In the midst of this mysterious world, enveloped in the remote and solitary haze of this huge expansion of water, a small wooden yacht leisurely made its way across the slack waters, heading for the misty horizon. The sails slightly yellow in colour from years of hard use, storms and strong winds, flapped lazily in the now idle and reluctant breeze. The rigging tapped rhythmically against the mast and the tame water lapped against the boats glossy hull which moved with sluggish apathy towards its destination.

Aboard the yacht, sitting in the cockpit of the boat, was an old man, tanned and worn like the sails from endless years at sea. Wearing only a pair of shorts tired with overuse, his naked flesh, brown and drained of its youth was covered with salt, encrusted in the crevasses and folds of his old skin. Beads of sweat were emerging from his brow in the sweltering heat and the pungent smell of old tobacco lingered in the air around him. His white hair and beard were matted and salty from neglect. With skill his experienced hand held the wooden tiller. His bloodshot eyes, full of wisdom and knowledge of the oceans, looked on in anxiety towards the distant horizon.

As the sultry day advanced, the glaring sun eventually began to descend from the sky, its brightness steadily altering to a soft orange glow which discoloured the sea beneath with its reflection. The orange globe looked down at its destined journey, unknown to anyone but the sun itself. It pondered as if in thought before reluctantly diminishing behind a wall of black which hung over the horizon, dark and oppressive. As the sun disappeared the wind awoke and a harsh breeze crept silently upon the small boat, filling its sails. The boat reacted swiftly to this newly found power and was aroused into acceleration.

Whispery clouds began to form in the darkening atmosphere above and the man knew that behind their mask of innocence these clouds were the worrying sign of an ever advancing enemy. And this battle was to be the hardest of battles at sea.

The man adjusted the sails and began to prepare for what was to come. For as the power of the wind became stronger, so did the forebodings of a storm.

P.S Better tell you about the best sushi restaurant I have ever eaten in Thanks to my mate Robyn from the classic yacht, Halloween; and it is right here in Barcelona. Just for you guys I will return there to take photos and sample more of the menu so that I can blog about it. Now don't let me hear you say I never do anything for you.

Thanks for reading. I'll be back soon with recipes and restaurant reviews! It's a tough life at 33 degrees...

Cheers!

A First Over all for Mariquita Today!

It’s not easy to put into words how it can make you feel when you’re lolling about in an area of sea barely off the coast, lined with glittering skyscrapers, amongst many other beautiful classic yachts, waiting for the start sequence to your race. It’s a moment of clarity following a busy, sometimes stressful morning doing breakfast, making sandwiches, stowing the boat, sorting crew’s uniform, planning dinner; and then there you are, quite possibly the luckiest person in the world. I always have an inward little bubble of pride that in my life I have managed to get myself into the position where I can be a part of this scene. Adrenaline pumping; in pre-start positions on the staysail sheet with my staysail team, watching the most beautiful yachts in the world sail by, ready to seriously vie with you for that perfect position on the start line.

As you can see, I struggle to do it any justice at all with words and will never be able to come close with my hastily taken photos either. And I hope you don’t think that I’m gloating, it’s just that so much passion and skill goes into preparing for exactly these moments. The  leather work, led by our leather guru and bosun Nikki, that covers the wooden blocks, the perfectly administered varnish, the splicing of lines, stitching of sails, the heartfelt dedication to skills that have kept these boats sailing as they were one hundred years ago. Not to mention the team work.

Jim at the helm

The bow 'talks' to the helm constantly about sail trim.

And it’s great team work that gave us our first place today! We fought hard, like Trojans and as the race progressed the wind strength grew and it was our day. First place for Mariquita! You should have heard us cheer as we crossed the finish. To be honest it was all getting a bit much for the boat with the Jack Yard up. My team and I were up to our waists in gushing sea water on the leeward side trimming the staysail in on the jigger, harnessed on and loving every minute of it.

 

My photos will never capture the power or the speed or the effort involved in sailing a classic yacht the way we do; with no modern-day power winches, simply as it was back then. We pull on everything by hand, grit and sheer determination and the odd shanty. We love it. We live for it.

Thats me tailing the topping lift

 I will leave you with the words of someone more qualified then me to speak on our behalf. Our Captain Jim Thom, loves to read this to us, the crew, every now and then; and usually at the beginning of the season. I think he has good reason. This piece really says it all. Ladies and Gentlemen, the words of Joseph Conrad;

“Of course, yacht racing is an organised pastime,…but for a great number of people it is a means of livelihood that is, an industry. Now, the moral side of an industry, productive or unproductive, the redeeming and ideal aspect of this bread winning, is the attainment and preservation of the highest possible skill on the part of the craftsmen. Such skill, the skill of technique, is more than honesty; it is something wider, embracing honesty and grace and rule in an elevated and clear sentiment, not altogether utilitarian, which may be called the honour of labour. It is made up of accumulated tradition, kept alive by individual pride, rendered exact by professional opinion and, like the higher art, it is spurred on and sustained by discriminating praise.

That is why the attainment of proficiency, the pushing of your skill with attention to the most delicate shades of excellence, is a matter of vital concern. Efficiency of a practically flawless kind may be reached naturally in the struggle for bread. But there is something beyond – a higher point, a subtle and unmistakable touch of love and pride beyond mere skill; almost an inspiration which gives to all work that finish which is almost art – which is art.

It is the striving for victory that has elevated the sailing of pleasure craft to the dignity of a fine art in that special sense”

                                                                                   Joseph Conrad,

                                                                 The Mirror of the Sea

Thanks Joseph. Nice one. I’m in my bunk now waiting for sleep to come. It’ll be another early morning, another day of adrenaline, good strong wind (or so I’ve heard on the grapevine) and we are determined to get another first place. On Sunday I shall probably sleep a lot so I hope to see you again on Monday for another little catch up.

Thank you for reading my excited little blog today. It feels good to work so hard and get an official first place. How often does that happen in life really?...

Wish us luck, Cheers!

Believe it or not, my bunk is behind the lashed up wooden hatch at the back there. Home Sweet Home.

Tidying lines after a great day out racing.

A Short Note On Antibes Regatta, Lots Of Photos and Some Starch.

A dramatic lightening storm in Antibes

Jim, George and Tim watching the show, ready for rain.

It’s me. I’m back. And just so you know, I’m back in Cannes and have constant internet and a good while before our next regatta. So the recipes will be flooding your way very soon!

Right now though, a darkened room, air conditioning and pizza are just about all I can cope with. Since my last blog, Mariquita has race trained for 2 days, raced 4 days and I am exhausted.

But it was good. Great racing and great friends and Antibes is lovely (although the walk to the shops was a bit lengthy with a wobbly old trolley in all that heat).

Wooling sails on deck

Lots of sail changes equals lots of clearing up.

We came second overall! Well done us. We even won the first race which was amazing because we sat in a little wind-less hole for what felt like ten years and watched with flogging sails and growing anxiety as boats merrily sailed past in a fantastic little breeze. Let me tell you, when sailing is as frustrating as that, you may as well be playing golf (sorry golf lovers, I’ve tried but by the 6^th hole, really I’m in such a bad mood, I may as well be sitting on a stationary boat in a race with no wind…).

The beautiful yacht, Cambria

Mariska won over-all and Cambria should probably have taken second place but she gives us so much time in the handicap system, she came third. Don’t worry, I won’t go into any detail to explain how this works (mostly because it doesn’t and it’s very, very dull) but put simply, we are all very different boats of different sizes, designs and weights, so to make the scoring a bit fairer, all the boats have a ‘rating’, which means that a bigger, faster boat gives a smaller, slower boat time. I don’t fully understand how they work it out and it certainly doesn’t always reflect a fair score but hey-ho, we know if we’ve had a good race and ‘won’ or not. We rate ourselves and don’t get too caught up in what the scoreboard says.

It was a week of not a lot of wind and big swelly seas. Mariska is lighter than Mariquita so she coped much better with the swell and light winds.  Cambria is a big, strong, Bermudan rigged 23 meter, so she careered through the course, miles ahead of everybody.

It is a beautiful sight to see so many classic yachts about to start their race, vying for the best position on the start line. And it’s an adrenaline fuelled moment when you’re a part of it. I really do have the best job in the world.

There was a bit of wind! But it was a squall that came through when we were out training.

I made the sandwiches myself for this regatta. No grated carrot and anchovy this time! My Chinese chicken wraps and smoked mackerel and prawn baguettes went down very well and in the absence of decent and sanely priced Cheddar in the South of France, French Cantal is a good substitute for the old favourite, cheese and pickle. And on the subject of food, and I guess due to this being a cooking blog, let me tell you about the celeriac, bacon and pine nut lasagne I made! 

Who’d have thought it? Well actually I did. But putting a starchy vegetable in amongst pasta can sometimes feel a bit wrong, like a chip butty or a potato pizza; both of which can be exceedingly good of course. I lived in Viareggio in Italy for a short while and occasionally I would visit a little pizza takeaway by the seafront and purchase a slice of their incredible potato and rosemary pizza to take home and eat with a nice cold glass of Pino Grig’. My mouth is watering at the memory.

Jim the captain leading the wooling of sails through the galley as I cook supper. I'm cool. I can cope with that.

But back to France, celeriac and pasta.  It works very well. Celeriac is quite a light starch with a great flavour not unlike celery, and goes very well with bacon. And that’s what was in the fridge. Whilst sitting on the side deck that day, trimming the reaching staysail I came up with the vague idea of putting it all in a lasagne with a balancing, creamy sauce and some fresh buffalo mozzarella. Again, mostly because that’s what I had in the fridge and there would be no time to shop that night after such a long race. (Quite frankly, couldn't be bothered).

The lasagne followed the same basic recipe as my kitchen-sink lasagne (from blog, A Glamerous Lunch In Cannes) with the grated courgette in there too, to bulk it out for 7 very hungry, tired chaps. I sautéed the sliced celeriac with the onions, in place of the potato from the kitchen sink lasagne, added some fennel seeds and instead of goats cheese, fresh buffalo mozzarella. I simply sprinkled sautéed bacon and pinenuts in amongst the layers with the white sauce, plenty of freshly grated nutmeg and a good topping of parmesan. I will definitely be making it again sometime. One to keep in the recipe memory banks.

One little note there for all you budding cooks. Never bother with buying pre-grated nutmeg. It smells alright but tastes of dust or absolutely nothing. It’s simple enough to buy the whole nutmegs and grate them in fresh. Really, it makes a huge difference.

So here we are, back in Cannes. It feels a bit like coming home, it’s got that sort of familiarity. I know where most things are now; the best shops, the best routes for a loaded trolley with rapidly deteriorating wheel bearings and most importantly, where to get great ice cream.

I hope I haven’t bored you with too much regatta-reminiscing again. Although they are very all-consuming and I do feel I should explain my absence. It does feel good for the soul to summarise it, so I thank you for reading if you made it to the end, skimming fully understood.

Getting the sails down quickly before the squall really hit.

I’ve got a great idea for my next recipe for you. Being surrounded here in France by cherry season is getting my desert juices flowing. I feel I need to do more baking, as I’m sure my crew do too. A little sweetness needed to sooth our aching muscles and tired bodies and plus I have a little time in which to bake the odd desert. The crew need a bit of spoiling I feel. I can be Mum. Bless ‘em.

So I’ll see you shortly. Stay tuned for the next, sweet addition of life at 33 Degrees.

Cheers!

One Regatta Down, Seven To Go!

Beautiful Corsica

I’m writing this blog sitting in the staysail that’s tied down to the deck on the bow as we motor away from Ajaccio, Corsica and head for Antibes. The sea is flat calm and the sun is being kind to us behind a thin, lacy vale of cloud. It’s a good spot to ponder our first regatta and to start telling you all about it. I’m a bit uncertain as to how I should summarise a whole regatta without boring you to tears with too much detail. I’m struggling to even know where to start to be completely honest.

Moored up in Ajaccio in the morning sun.

One certainty is that quite a lot of emotion goes into racing in a regatta. Times that by the number of crew onboard, mix it up with some VIP’s staying, 3 course meals, late nights, heavy fog and a Man-Over-Board and the material is endless. I’ll keep it to the point and keep the deviations to a minimum if I can.

So here goes, deep breath and…

Nine folk arrived to help us sail the boat for the regatta in Ajaccio, including my Dad who came to do the navigation. That was great, having my Dad with us. I was very proud. Not that I saw much of him. My position on the boat means that I’m pulling on ropes forward and he was down in the lazerette with the charts on the aft deck. We occasionally waved to each other when time allowed. 

All hands to the peak halyard.

Perfect spooning on the rail guys.

The racing had its ups and its downs. The first race was a short one and although we were first boat to the second mark, we struggled with the downwind leg and I think we might have come last in our class. The second day was weird. We had just started to hoist the sails for the day when the fog set in. According to a local guy I spoke to, this fog comes but once a year, and it chose a race day, of all days. 15 classic yachts floated around the bay of Ajaccio for a few hours without being able to see much past their bow sprits. We had Natty on the bow with the fog horn and Joe the engineer up the mast, standing on the spreaders. It was all a bit spooky and incredibly disorientating. I was glad my Dad was on the navigation knowing where we were and where the big ships were. He’s a bit clever my Dad.

Beating up to the mark

The final race was our best of all. We were leading the fleet which is always exciting with some great beating up to the first mark. In fact the other boats, smaller and lighter than us were really falling behind. And then just as we were getting ready for a tack, we heard those awful words;

‘Man Over Board’!

With a new safety procedure and focus, last year we didn’t have one man-over-board. However in 2008 there were 4 in total. There is no guard rail in place when we race and the risk of being washed down the leward deck by the sea is pretty high. We do wear safety harnesses and clip on when the wind is strong and the leward deck is getting wet which stopped me from going over last year in a big gush of wave in Falmouth. This time however, Nikki lost her footing and because she stands very close to the back of the boat, she went in head first, a line around her ankle. Thank God it slipped off quickly or she would have been dragged along behind the boat at 7 knots.

It is a horrible moment when you hear those words. Everyone on the boat is a great friend as well as a colleague and keeping your cool when you know someone has gone overboard is tough. Jim, our captain, called quickly for a gybe, a life ring was thrown and George called for focus and everybody to their positions. We gibed around, had someone watching Nikki and pointing the whole time, a line was prepared and she was picked up in 4 minutes and 36 seconds. She has a few bruises but really the only injury was that her brand new camera was still in her pocket.

And off we set again to finish our race. Smooth.

It took just a little bit of coaxing and great boat handling to get Mariquita going again but the sailing yacht Mariska, managed to pass us. However, we had such a great lead on the other boats that we were next over the finishing line. It was a fantastic race and we are very proud of our Man/Girl/Person-Over-Board recovery and staunch race focus with Nikki back on board. Well done us.

Now if you think that once a year, thick Fog and Person-over-boards were a bit scary, let me tell you all about the sandwiches.

How hard is it to make a sandwich? you may ask. I’m giggling now as I remember, but have to admit that it wasn’t very funny at the time. It was decided that because we had 3 VIP’s staying on board, that I would be too busy to make all the race sandwiches, which is very true. So to relieve the pressure a bit, we ordered and had sandwiches delivered everyday. Great!

Actually not great. Let me give you a little list of some of the fillings provided;

• Grated carrot and anchovy (yum!)
• Sliced egg and crab stick (delicious)
• Some sort of spam and oceans of hot mustard (Can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that one before)

And my favourite,

• Lettuce and tomato (Genius)

So, most mornings were spent repairing the sandwiches with Sian, which wasn’t really the point at all. Oh, how we laughed…

I cooked a few VIP meals and did a couple of canapé evenings with Sian, my hard-working stewardess. One meal was asparagus and parmesan stuffed, boned chicken supreme’s, griddled baby courgettes and mint, followed by mini summer puddings served with crème fraiche, a selection of Corsican cheeses and Corsican rose wine. Unfortunately my camera’s battery-life expired that night, so you’ll just have to believe me.

I hear the entertainment for the boats and crews was great on the dock in the evenings. But if you are chef or stewardess on any boat with guests and owners then you don’t often get to partake in much of that. We are the first ones up and the last to bed. Add a little yacht race into the day and bed is the most wonderful place on earth for the short time we’re in it.

I would like to take this opportunity though to urge you whole heartedly to visit Corsica. It is the most beautiful country with a very interesting history and great character. It is famous for its superb hikes and walks, waterfalls and mountains. Jim, Tim, George and I went for a hike one day before the regatta. We caught the bus to Vizzavona and from there we followed the Cascades des Anglais which took us through beautiful woods, past waterfalls and deep icy pools which you can swim in if you’re brave, or silly enough to. We ended up being very silly and jumping in a deep pool of melted-snow water. It takes your breath away but after you have scrabbled out in what is usually a fairly undignified manner, the feeling of elation is palpable. You feel incredibly healthy and alive. You just have to go for it, don’t think about it, just jump right in. The sun soon warms you up and then if you have been really clever, like us, you then truly deserve your rose picnic. Especially if you have been chilling the rose in the icy cold water whilst you were busy frolicking about in it.I guess it is times like these when life at 33 Degrees is a wonderful thing. I am incredibly lucky.

So do accept my apologies for not writing sooner. It’s been quite a week. I hope I’ve done it justice without boring you to tears. There is so much more to write but considering this was our first regatta of the season, I’m pretty sure there’ll be more stories to tell very soon in Antibes. We don’t want to over-do it so early on now do we?

Thanks for sticking with me and making it to the end. When I write again soon, I’m hoping it will be all about the fish we’re about to catch as we head across the sea to Antibes in France. Fingers and chop sticks crossed. Ginger and wasabi on the ready.

Oh and camera battery charged this time.

One regatta down and seven to go. I'm sure once I've caught up on my sleep I'll be raring to go for 'Les Voiles d'Antibes on the 8th. For the moment, I'm enjoying lying in the staysail on the bow in the setting sun with some great memories already. And we've only just started. It's going to be a great year. Hope you can join me.
Cheers! See you soon.