This is an expansion of a post I made on LinkedIn earlier in September. . .

White tea, one sugar.
Black tea, two sugars.
White coffee, one sugar.
Berry tea.
White coffee.
Peppermint tea.
Hot chocolate, please.
Coffee. Strong and creamy. (I like it this way, too.)

These are the hot drink orders of my fellow circumnavigators on Team Scotland. They are engrained in my memory. I can hear their voices, the specific way each requests their drink.

I remember others’ orders as well. “White tea – half a cup, please.” “Can I just have a cup of milk, mate?” “Lemon Ginger tea. Extra lemon juice.” “Hot water with jam.” What can I say, folks got creative when the legs were long and they got bored with their usual order or when we ran out of their preferred hot drink.

On Team Scotland, when the on-watch was the on deck and working, one of the working crew would volunteer to be the “Offie Coffee” wake-up call for the next watch. This is short-hand for: the off-going watch makes hot drinks for the oncoming watch and gives them an appropriately-timed wake up call. I took pride in doing this task. . . others found it a way to get off deck earlier than normal in biting cold or extremely wet conditions. For me, it was a time to show that I cared for my teammates. I took pride in knowing their drink orders and confirming with them when I woke them up. I also used it as a crafty way to ensure they engaged with me during their wake-up call. . . “Good morning, [name]. It’s time to wake up. Would you like your white tea?” And, by them answering yes or no, confirmed they had heard me and were awake. Ideally, with a hot drink for which to look forward.

Something as simple as preparing the perfect cup of tea or coffee for someone waking up can be such a morale booster for the recipient. It’s the accumulation of little actions that build the long-lasting bond and a feeling that someone cares.

The bond between Clipper racers is bar-none to anything I’ve ever experienced. It is nearly unbreakable, yet fragile. Together we learn, we grow, we struggle, we fail, and we succeed. We share tears and laughter, hugs and high fives, and experiences only an ocean racer will ever understand.

Coming home has been wonderful, but it can feel lacking at times. While I tell my stories of a year at sea in the most epic endurance race, few listeners can relate to the experiences. These are the moments I miss my fellow racers and the bonds we made.

When I wrote my original post in September, I awoke with my teammates’ drink orders in my head. . . but thankful I wasn’t on point to make them in 40°F (4.4°C) temps on a 45° heel in bashing seas.