WITH a month to go until the start of this year's Clipper Race, a group of Singaporeans are now battling the cold winds of England as they gear up for the round-the-world sailing tournament.

It'll be Singapore's third time taking part in the race, which will see stopovers in eight countries. But for us it's not just a race but also a kind of promotional tour: along the way, folks from our tourism board will spread the word about our island's charms. Even the boat is branded the Uniquely Singapore.

At various points it will be staffed by a rotating crew of 12 Singaporeans and Singapore residents, plus some others from around the world to make up the numbers. All are amateurs.

Unlike other round-the-world competitions Clipper Race contestants are all non-professionals, who each fork out thousands of dollars to plunge into the world of sailing.

Which is why, as you read this, I'm currently sunburnt, windchafed, and floating somewhere around Batam.

I'm here to get a taste of what an ordinary Clipper Race participant has been learning. Admittedly, Singapore's sunny weather is very different from the much harsher conditions that they'll be facing, but you've got to start somewhere, right?

My vessel of choice: the Venture, one of two 40 ft keelboats that the Keppel Bay Sailing Academy uses to conduct its courses.

We set sail on Thursday from the Marina at Keppel Bay. My classmates on this beginner crew course are a motley (but jovial) crew of an American, a German, a Frenchman and a fellow Singaporean.

The crew and our instructor, Lynette, onboard the Venture.
PHOTO: Tessa Wong

Our instructor, Lynette, starts things off by showing us the ropes – literally. We learn what the myriad of ropes are used for onboard, the different parts of the boat, how the sails work, and various protocols.

Then we try our hand at sailing – but the wind is slow, and we putter at 2 knots for most of the afternoon. We slowly get burnt by the merciless sun; despite slathering on sunscreen, I feel as fried and crispy as a Takashimaya food hall snack.

Our hopes of getting a strong wind, and some action, are fulfilled soon enough. The next day sees us scrambling around like headless chickens as Lynette yells out orders over the howling strong wind.

As we head for Indonesian waters, a rainstorm homes in on us. While we are pelted by fat raindrops and the boat is buffetted around by stomach-churning swells, I wonder why exactly anyone would sign up for something like this.

But it gradually becomes clear to me, despite the pouring rain.

Like all outdoor activities, sailing feels very much a primal sport which, when pitching man against the natural elements, imparts a contradictory sense of both insignificance and power.

You may just be a tiny speck bobbing on the ocean, but you're miraculously harnessing weather and water to reach your destination.

Searching for the perfect curve; a view of the main sail of the Venture.
PHOTO: Tessa Wong

It is also a sport that's curiously driven by the physics of aesthetics.

When it comes to harnessing the wind, a perfect curve is everything: the right sail shape at the right angle to the wind is essential for maximising power. One little crease in the sail makes our instructor wrinkle her nose like an offended art-lover. Somehow I find this balance of science, art and sport oddly appealing.

And there's another unlikely thing that I love: its sounds. The snapping of the sail, the fantastic whoosh as it unfurls itself from hidden crumpledness, the rattling of ropes, the splatter of waves as the boat noses its way home – it's a musical language of its own, singing a centuries-old tune of voyage and adventure.

Put them all together with the excitement that comes with unpredictable weather, and I see why someone may want to do this round the world for nearly a year.

Well, nearly. I'm keeping my rain-wrinkled fingers crossed for better weather tomorrow.

Tessa Wong's trip is sponsored by Keppel. Watch out for the second instalment next week.