James Hunter uses lashings on the main sail rope to figure out how much to let out. Credit: Louie Douvis
Hunter’s first sail, later the same year, mostly involved sitting down.
“Close your eyes and that’s your reality,” he explains. “So, you need to map everything in your mind and your memory and you need to work on that concept of body and space. You need to be aware of where you’re at in relation to the rest of the boat in movement.”
With the help of volunteer Bridget Canham, Hunter progressed from sitting down, to crawling, to sailing, like he once had as a teenager on the lake. By the time he shows this reporter around the MWF Kayle, he has completed two Sydney to Hobarts and is preparing for his third next month. The boat, which is owned by the foundation, will be crewed by 13 sailors – half of them with disabilities.
On Sydney Harbour, Hunter uses gloves with holes in the thumb and forefinger to find lashings on the main sail rope which indicate how much he can let out. With my eyes closed and body kneeled over the way Hunter once had, I spend most of the race sick as the boat heeled from one side to another.
“I’ll tell you this, on a dark night in the middle of the Bass Straight, who’s blind?” Hunter calls out above the wind. “We all are,” he answers.
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Before his first Sydney to Hobart in 2023, Hunter assumed the notoriously risky race would be too dangerous for him. But, being aware of his limitations, like any sailor, is what keeps him safe.
“I work here on the main [sail] because I can use other senses and I can do it well. There are other parts of the boat that I won’t be going to because it’s dangerous for me and dangerous for everyone else. So it’s that acknowledgment and being honest. Honest with myself and honest with those around you.”
It’s hard not to get sentimental about the opportunities the foundation has provided to those like Hunter, or how it feels to sail in the open ocean, heightening each remaining sense.
“For me, it’s the immenseness,” he said. “You are totally at the mercy of the waves … and the wind and the weather, and you realise just how insignificant you are in this world. And even that realisation is important because it allows you to recognise that you have to really bring your best step in life and never more important than out in the middle of the Bass Strait.
“But more importantly, you also acknowledge that you have to rely on others, they have to rely on you. It’s really – not to get too wah-wah about it – it’s a moment of deep reflection.”
