Fare thee well shipmates

Thursday 1 July 2010, 15:30 GMT

Words: Skip Novak

Although many who race around the world proclaim upon finishing that they will never do it again and then stick to their decision, there is no doubt that if you get hooked, it is a hard habit to break.

I admit to becoming an ‘addict' back in the early Whitbread era when, for the best part of 15 years, my life by and large revolved around four circumnavigations between the second instalment in 1977 until after the 1989-90 race - the swansong of the mixed IOR fleet that coincided with my decision to change tacks for southern ocean adventure sailing and climbing in earnest.

Very few people back then made a living out of the Whitbread Race, rather a living was made between races with a view to being in a position to do the next one. This meant full time employment with commitment was an anathema and the possibility of not getting a berth was an emotional crisis.

My genre of deep water sailormen, and I do mean ‘men' as this was before women joined in earnest with Maiden in 1989, were generally characters of the first degree. Vagabonds, misfits, rebels without cause and pub test pilots manned the sheets. They were not the top racing technicians of the day, who looked upon the likes of us as having a screw loose, but instead were generally good seamen offshore looking for an adventure and a bit of fun onshore and the Whitbread Race provided all that and more.

Alas, there is no room in today's fleet for the likes of that lot, and certainly not their hijinks, some of which still cannot be printed nor repeated in mixed company! Fare thee well shipmates, you were a fine bunch. Now then, is anyone still around from the 1977 Whitbread? I think not, but from 1981 we have Grant Dalton (Flyer II), the timeless Roger Nilsson (Alaska Eagle) and of course the forever young Magnus Olsson (Drum 1985) still nosing around for the next Volvo, over 30 years on - but surely they must be getting a little weary?

Indeed, times have changed and the skippers and crews of today are true sailing professionals alternating between the America's cup, the Volvo and the Olympic Games in a clear career path that can last until the body gives out. Then, moving off the boat and into team or race management is a logical step for those committed individuals. I am often asked by young sailors how they can get a berth on a Volvo boat. "Win a few dinghy championships," I tell them.

For a variety of reasons, I have never enjoyed a fully funded, completely professional campaign. Instead, my Whitbread history has revolved around eleventh hour, marginal entries that were less about making a boat go fast and more about crisis management. Because they were newsworthy in themselves they have, however, helped to shape the Volvo Ocean Race we see today.

Although there were no victories in our score sheets, I have a collection of memories that would be hard to beat. It is true that nostalga has no place in today's Volvo Ocean Race, but for some of us who were there, we can now enjoy turning back the clocks at the Legends Regatta next year.

Fare thee well shipmates, you were a fine bunch.