Global Challenge
Week 3 - Crossing the Doldrums

However little weather forecasting I hoped to get away with on this ten month odyssey, the chances were that my forecasting 'skills' would be called on as our journey to Buenos Aires took us ever closer to the Doldrums.

I'd been this way before, but the hierarchy of my previous means of transport, one 20000 ton aircraft carrier, had seemed disinterested in the prospect of little or no wind. All on board this particular 50 ton vessel seem obsessed by the same.

I felt rather like the Doldrums' PR man as our course took us away from Portugal and our oft-related encounter with 50mph winds in the circulation of a low. Now the big fear, as Madeira and the Canaries slipped astern of us, was of 'being stuck for days on end' in the Doldrums, that area which lies between the permanent highs of the North and South Atlantic.

My newly fledged, mariner companions seem to have heard every tale going of sailing vessels grinding to a halt as the northeast trade winds peter out err..... 'somewhere near the Equator?'. You're probably getting a sense of the selling job I had to do on behalf of the Doldrums.

Having spoken to those who had been this way before, it was never going to be that bad. Sure, 'parking up' as it was euphemistically put, was going to be a drag, particularly in the context of a full on, round the world yacht race.

The word was that there is always enough movement of the whole zone to either north or south, of tropical waves from east to west, and indeed of individual showers, here and there, to provide some wind at least.

You may remember a classic Morecambe and Wise sketch in which Eric, after a particularly poor performance on the piano, told the world's then leading conductor, Andre Previn, that he was:' playing all the right notes....but not necessarily in the right order. The trick with the Doldrums is to take what wind comes to you, even if it doesn't take you necessarily in the right direction.

It helps of course if you can have a rough idea of where the Doldrums might be. My most visited source of information was a chart broadcast across the airwaves by forecasters in New Orleans. Their depiction of a 60 mile wide zone, meandering across the Atlantic between 5 and 10 degrees North, always seemed a little narrow to me so I factored in another 60 mile wide zone to either side.

As we closed on the reported location, reception of the chart became a six hourly ritual. At first, all was well. We progressed southwards at 10kts and many on board began to feel cheated. It's amazing how being 'parked' for a matter of one hour can change people's perspective. There is always the feeling that others will be hammering off southwards, unaffected by this natural disaster.

That evening's report of positions showed we had escaped very lightly indeed. Others in the fleet had spent many hours watching the antics of flying fish rather than a boat speed indicator full of dreaded zeros.

If I give the impression the Doldrums were done and dusted in a day then I have misled you slightly. The following day was one of flukey winds and anxious chart gazing. Indeed it was not until we were around 4 degrees North that the winds suddenly kicked into the southeast and blew with any consistent force.

At last, the southeast trades and, hopefully, an uninterrupted passage to Buenos Aires. Oh, did I mention we were first across the Equator? Certainly our first first, not our last I trust.