The Sailing Challenge: Training on Pricey Waters

Less than 36 hours after popping cartilage in my chest whilst training for The Wrestling Challenge, I awoke before my alarm due to excitement for the days that lay ahead; this morning I'd be off to Chichester for a 2 day voyage of discovery, in training for The Sailing Challenge.

OK so the 3 hour drive South West to arrive in Chichester may have somewhat cooled off my excitement, especially seeing as it was cold, damp and I knew that more rest for my chest injury was far from what was on the menu. But the sight of Marbella, Coach Taylor's boat, tied to the jetty was enough to reinvigorate my desire to learn more about sailing.

Marbella

Coach Taylor had been busy in the day's leading up to our trip preparing his 26ft sailing yacht and I was surprised to find that mending the boats engine had been a part of this prep; I'd never thought a vessel of this type would have an engine - how little of sailing I knew.

We set off after around an hour, when the waters were judged to be high enough for us to safely coast out of the harbour. The engine purred noisily as we set off on calm waters.

Almost immediately, it started to rain

While the waters and the wind remained frustratingly calm on our outward journey, the rain started to fall almost as soon as Coach Taylor set about unfurling the main sail, and didn't stop till we'd reached our destination for the day.

The journey to Cowes in the Isle of Wight took us around 4 hours, the wind remained too low for practising manoeuvres though I enjoyed some time at the helm, watching the tell-tales (small ribbons attached to the front sail which indicate how you're tracking in the wind) and operating the tiller to manage our direction.

On the route we passed between two giant man-made 'forts', designed to house guns and act as defence posts against attacks in the World Wars; one of which was now derelict, the other oddly now an expensive hotel - apparently you can hire the whole place for just £8000 per night.

As we neared our destination for the evening, Coach Taylor booked us a mooring on the radio and I steered the boat, now back on its engine, towards our allocated space.

As we removed those soaked outer layers and prepared for a well-earned pint, the sun finally managed to elbow its way through the clouds, typical.

Bringing more than just a touch of Marbella to the Isle of Wight

I've been to the Isle of Wight a few times before but never to Cowes, which seems to do a pretty good job encapsulating all that's good about the place; enough drinking holes to drown most of the fish in the English Channel and more than enough shops to fill even the largest of attics with unwanted souvenirs.

The rich association with the surrounding waters is celebrated in most drinking establishments, of which Mark took me to a good handful (breaking the crawl briefly for a hearty dinner), though none more vividly than final destination which featured not only photos of Cowes many visiting boats and ships but part of one of the most famous vessels ever to race on open waters - The Kings Yacht, Britannia.

The image above shows the plaque on the Gaff Spar from this historic royal racing yacht, the length of which hung from the ceiling and travelled the full length of the pub. This one section would have originally sat above the main sail (atop the large sail on the right of the ship - see image of a model below).

A model of the original Britannia

This amazing racing yacht was built in 1893 for Albert, Prince of Wales, and was passed down to his son King George V whom after years of racing, decided that his dying wish was for the ship to follow him to the grave - the vessel was sunk by St. Catherine's Deep on 10th July 1036, the exact location remains unknown.

Thankfully the gaff spar was somehow retrieved and now makes for a wonderful pub ornament.

Waking up closely 'encased' on three sides by thick wood is not the most pleasant way to start your Sunday, but once I'd realised I wasn't being gawped at by weeping relatives I manoeuvred my aching body into the smallest rest room imaginable and emptied my internal water bottle.

Upon seeing we were now both awake, the rain clouds pushed the sun out of the way and gave a wet welcome to the day. This welcome intensified throughout our return journey and with it came strong winds and rolling waves.

On the journey back I was gifted a lesson in real helmsmanship; the wind and rain battered our sails and ourselves above the water line, while the wind and the tide conspired to push wave after rolling wave right at us, and all the while I had the tiller. The 26ft long yacht was moved around like a toy duck  in a busy swimming pool.

Many times I found myself leaning at around 45 degrees, while trying to maintain balance and having to push the tiller away from me. Imagine a surfboard travelling along on its left side while you try to sit sideways, with your legs flat across the back, your feet are nearly in the water on the left of the board and you're having to lean towards your toes in order to turn the board towards the right. Now, imagine doing this while the 'surfboard' is leaping up ten feet in the air and then back down ten feet, all within a few seconds, and this happens non-stop for 4 hours!!!

It's making me feel sea sick writing about it but somehow I was fine and loving the thrill on the day, albeit with busted ribs.

Coach Taylor & The (weather worn) Everyman Olympian

Thankfully on that return leg along the world's most expensive strip of water (the Solent), Coach Taylor managed to judge a few good times for me to practise tacking the yacht; an experience I'll never forget.

Wresting Training - Broken

Back at Elite Fitness after a week away in the States, I had to prove that I'd taken more on board from my first visit here about fighting, than I'd taken on from the Americans about eating...though the slight spare tyre around my waist told it's own story...

I've managed to turn up with my £6 admittance fee this time and in plenty of time for the warm-up, which meant I'd be going head first into forward and backward rolls in front of folk who churned these out for fun, literally (Gymnastics was my worst sport at school).

The warm-up over and my pride still reasonably in tact; somehow I'd managed to get away with a few of those 'new' diagonal rolls that are all the rage in gyms these days, I was feeling good and ready to learn some fresh moves.

This time around when Coach Hales demonstrated the first move we were to practise through replication I was partnered with Danny and James; two very helpful lads, each the size of a barn door.

Coach Hales would allow us around ten minutes per move, for practise and to iron out any shabbiness in technique, this provided me just enough time to work out one move before being confused by the next and forgetting a lot of what I'd just done. The other members of the group seemed to soak up the move with one demonstration, though thankfully Coach would show us at least 3 times to ensure even I had a chance to get the basic gyst.

Coach Hales (green tee) shows us how it's done.

After being strangled, flattened and rolled into an uncomfortable ball in the name of learning - and loving every minute - we once again paired up for mini, 3 minute battles, played out to submission. Coach Hales said that I needn't get involved unless I wanted to. I got stuck straight in.

To begin with James and I practised some of the moves from the evening, which gave me the chance to refresh my memory and James the easiest opponent in the room. I really appreciated this gesture from the big man who I'd later find out had a real thirst for history and even takes part in historical battle re-enactments, though after two 3 minutes rounds I could tell he wanted the chance to face more resistance and so I switched to another opponent.

Ben was a slightly bigger build to myself, though far more solid and had been studying Wrestling far far longer. We matched up and that's when I got a little cocky; while I was by no means showing any sign of technical nouse, I did try to add some aggression and added force into my efforts - this simply indicated to my opponent that I was up for a similar approach back; it's fair to say he had more stock of each in his locker.

After a few submissions from yours truly we were nearing the end of this pairing when Ben pulled a move where my head was low into his chest as I was forced backwards and he rolled over the top of me. The pop, flash of pain in my chest and my subsequent 'aggghhh' as we hit the deck caused the other fighters to stop in their efforts and look our way. I explained the problem to Coach Hales and he diagnosed that I had a 'popped sternum', and instructed me to sit out the rest of the session - I wasn't going to argue.

Randomly, a chiropractor called Patrick, entered the room almost straight away; he'd turned up to advertise his services and had a patient instantly - Coach explained the issue and I was given some early treatment on the spot. Cheers Patrick!

Patrick the timely chiropractor

Ben apologised but I passed it off as just part and parcel of learning a sport like this, he felt pretty bad as he'd never injured anyone, though in my eyes he'd merely wanted to win - I knew he wasn't setting out to break me.

South Essex Wrestling Club, Coach Hales (green tee), The Everyman Olympian (broken and right of Coach Hales), Ben (second on from back right), Danny (back right), James (front right).

That night as I tried to sleep I was in a lot of pain; if I turned my head left it killed my back, if I turned my head two inches to the right, my chest flared up. I opted to sleep on it and see how things developed.

I've since been to a chiropractor nearer to home. The pain subsided but 2 days Sailing training and a full day moving awkwardly for The Beach Volleyball Challenge has taken it's toll on my recovery, here's what the 'doc' diagnosed:

Effectively I've 'pulled a rib' - which means I've damaged the links between one of the cartilage sections connecting one of my left ribs to both my sternum and my rib. It's not pleasant.

I'm currently sidelined from continuing with Wrestling for the time being, have been unable to start Hockey, and am having to rest rather than continue with Triathlon training.

68 days to go till the Olympics start...

The Sailing Challenge: Training - In The Drink

I live by the Thames estuary as it heads lazily out past the delights of Southend-on-Sea and into the North Sea, so you'd think I'd find it easy to start The Sailing Challenge...

Some two whole years into The Everyman Olympics, I finally found me a coach.

Thanks more to my relationship than to any close connection to open water, and more precisely thanks to the helpful intervention of my missus grandpa Len - thanks Len!

For you see despite a number of enquiries I'd made (at one point leading me to think I'd have to forfeit the use of a proper Olympic-type vessel), it took the good nature of Len and the positive reaction of one very excellent sailor in Mark Taylor to bring about one particularly expensive, overcast morning in southern England...

Just twenty minutes inside of entering Chichester, I'd met up with Coach Taylor, driven to two shops and found myself driving behind a trailered boat while wearing a skin-tight rubber suit and nearly £250 lighter.



Weebles wobble but they can't fall down

Now some of you may think: Why is he in a wetsuit for sailing? Well the simple answer is that the shop attendant and Mark felt this would be my best investment as unlike with a dry suit, I could wear this for The Triathlon Challenge too. It may be a good investment, it's not my best look.
By 9:30am one Saturday in early February I was stood on a stony beach trying to get my hands into some rubber gloves, while keeping out of the way as Coach Taylor set up the laser; an Olympic category of small sailing boat.

Coach Taylor setting up his own power boat, from which he would guide me.

I was instructed to sit in the one-man laser, holding the tiller and the sheet in a particular way - this would gently take me out towards deeper waters while Mark started his motor boat which he would follow in and guide me from. The motor boat didn't start straight away and by the time Coach Taylor caught up with me I was already in capsized in the water some 80 yards away.

'Well that covers my first lesson then...capsizing' - Coach Taylor

This first session I spent more time in the drink than on the boat, thankfully my wetsuit kept me buoyant, though it it didn't seem to keep me dry - I was joined in my rubber get-up by a few pints of cold seawater, but the ear-to-ear grin showed I wasn't complaining.

Coach Taylor & The Everyman Olympian - note how dry he looks!

As the sun finally showed it's smirky yellow face we packed away, and Mark noticed that somehow I broken a small piece of plastic which essentially had caused me to have a harder time of keeping the darn laser afloat. So maybe there was hope for me yet.

I've since had a few more lessons and been joined in the boat by Coach Taylor. We've managed to stay pretty dry funnily enough. This weekend I'm looking forward to getting out on his yacht for some training on how to better read and maximise the window, and just to show how dedicated I am - I'll be missing the mighty Chelsea against Liverpool in the FA Cup Final...come on you Blues!!