In solo racing, you do not rise to the occasion. You fall to your systems

I have sailed a lot of miles offshore, and I still do not pretend a Cat 1 Trans Tasman crossing is simple. It is a serious piece of water, and solo racing makes it more so. Not because you are alone, but because you are responsible for everything, all the time.

Getting the boat ready is one half. Getting yourself ready is the other. And both only work if you treat the basics with respect.

The reality of Cat 1 prep

It is not easy to get yourself and the boat ready for the Tasman. Everything has to be correct, from paperwork and qualifications, to maintenance and safety checks. The boat needs to be out of the water for inspections, cleaning, and antifouling.

The job list is huge. Engine and charging systems. Mast, boom, locks, halyards. Sails, watertightness. Ropes, blocks, clutches. Rudders, steering systems, autopilots. Communications, weather routing. Safety gear, sign-offs, and compliance. Then the personal side: nutrition, hydration, and sleep management.

If you ever want a simple lesson in humility, write that list down and give yourself a deadline.

What I watched constantly on the training runs

During the solo training runs, I was constantly monitoring the boat’s systems and my own workload, because small drift becomes big problems later.

The main things I tracked all the time were:

• Battery levels and charging patterns
• Wind strength, sea state, and what the forecast was doing next
• Sail crossover timing, so the next sail was ready before the current one was wrong
• Autopilot behaviour and steering load
• My own energy, hydration, and decision-making quality

When you are solo, you cannot afford to be surprised. Your whole goal is to keep surprises to a minimum by being early, not reactive.

Practical changes I am making before the race

These are not theoretical ideas. These are direct lessons earned at sea.

1. A louder alarm, with cockpit control

The first modification I need is a louder alarm with an off switch in the cockpit. A phone alarm is not good enough. When the boat is loud and you are tired, you need an alarm that cuts through everything, and you need to be able to control it without scrambling below.

2. A cockpit cheat sheet for manoeuvres

I want a simple cockpit checklist for manoeuvres. Before a sail change, a reef, or any major adjustment, I want a quick scan that confirms everything is set up and nothing is forgotten.

When you are tired, you do not rise to the occasion. You fall to your systems. A checklist is a system.

3. No sails stored in the bow

No sails in the bow. Wrong weight placement. Weight forward changes the boat’s motion, increases slamming, and makes life harder when it is already hard. This is a simple discipline that improves both comfort and performance.

4. J0 management at night

J0 should be down at night if it is not deployed, especially as wind pressure builds. The last thing you want is a sail deploying itself and creating a major problem when you are managing everything alone.

5. Radar alarms, not just AIS

I will run radar alarms for dangerous targets as well as AIS. Some fishing boats are not on AIS. I learned that lesson the hard way.

The moment that tightened my discipline

The confidence to sleep while the boat is charging along is an interesting situation. It is necessary, and it is also confronting. The rougher it gets, the more you know things can go wrong quickly.

On one sleep cycle, I woke up, went out to check everything, and there was a fishing boat about 100 metres away, right by the path we were on. We must have passed it very close.

That was a heart-stopping moment. It did not make me panic. It made me more disciplined. Radar alarms. Better alarm systems. Better routines. Less reliance on hope.

Sleep and food: I was pleasantly surprised

I was pleasantly surprised by how well I managed sleep in 20-minute intervals, and how steady my nutrition and hydration stayed. The real test will be whether I can do the same in a race environment, when adrenaline is higher, and the temptation to push is constant.

But it is a good sign. It tells me the systems can work if I commit to them.

The honest question: am I up for this

Am I up for this? Yes and no.

I have wanted to do a solo race for my whole sailing career. Am I ready? As ready as I will ever be. Do I have the confidence I can do this? Yes, I do, as long as I do the basics right, keep surprises to a minimum, and take one correct step at a time.

Solo racing is not a rushed sport. Things do not happen quickly, even when they feel urgent. You cannot afford rushed decisions. I keep asking myself simple questions:

• What is my backup plan
• What do I expect to happen next
• What is the next correct step

That is the headspace I want. Calm, methodical, and honest.

The part I think about most

I am more worried about my family at home in the current global situation. Are they safe? I do not want to cause them worry. That is part of this, too. When you race solo, you carry more than your own ambition. You carry the people who love you.

Why I am doing this

I am doing this to prove to myself that I can get Vixen and myself to Australia competitively and safely.

That is the job. That is the standard. Do the basics right. Keep improving the systems. Respect the ocean. And earn it one step/mile at a time.

Photocredit: livesaildie