Some prayers please

We've been stuck in this little wind hole corridor for the past day,
sucking us back to the last position on the rankings in a day. Unlike
the initial forecast, the boats north and south of us seem to benefit
from heavier breeze, and here we are, lingering, crawling over smooth
seas and 3 knots of breeze if we're lucky. Unfortunately, 3 knots does
not help much for moving 35 tons by a visible speed. Seeing the other
boats are making way on us on each 6 hour report, and being stuck in the
same position still, spending watch over watch trying to squeeze a few
knots out of mini gusts and without much progress is torturous...

All followers of this blog, some support would be much appreciated at
this point of time.
We do need all your positive energy, thoughts, best wishes, prayers,
chants, super natural powers, use of "the force" and/or any other means
of connection with nature over seas, for bringing us just a touch of
breeze PLEASE...

I tried chanting on deck, using a bucket as a drum, well... That worked
for a while and brought 0.7 knots of breeze for 5 minutes. (I was
rightfully silenced by the team thereafter) So please do not
underestimate the power of your prayers...

Hoping to deliver more good and exciting news soon.
Keep an eye on me:)

The fisrt moments of disappointment on the 2nd Leg

no, it's not fair...

This leg was meant to be about grey skies, damp, if not wet conditions,
chilly to cold weather, tough winds, big waves, breaking our way towards
Cape Town. We are now getting the forst half, it is grey, chilly and
damp and wet. However the second half of the "deal" is missing... We are
impacted by the high pressure system building right about Rio. Althugh
we're sitting at pretty much the edge of it, we are already suffering
the lousy winds and smooth seas. The enjoyable tough winds and the
bouncy seas deserted the fleet in the past 18 hours. The "equator" story
once again: low winds, flapping sails, mow moods...

Looking at it from the bright side: the conditions below deck improved,
helping the crew to recover from the heavy sea sickness quite a few were
suffering from. We were finally able to open the hatch, and allow fresh
air to wash away the very heavy smell of the "favela" (the compartment
where all sails are stored, and 14 of us are sleeping in. It used to be
called the "getto", after Rio, we decided to call it the "favela":)).
This is definety a major improvement. I will rely on a journalist
honesty for a few lines, and be a bit disgusting to explain the
situation: the "favela" smell is one you should try to avoid, a toxic
combination of still air that's low on oxygen, getting heavy with
humidity raising from 14 people's breaths & the wet sails, topped up
with all kinds of unpleasant bodily smells (I will save the details, but
I can smell 5 different sources with not the best product of smells),
and finished with a touch of bilge and sail cloth smell. Sailing is the
easy bit, try surviving the favela without getting sick, THAT is the
challenge.

Still looking at it from the bright side, we are not alone in suffering
the light wind torture this time. More or less, all the fleet is pretty
much in the same wind zone. So we think we're not really falling behind
(crossing fingers). And it's a long way, we have just started it, there
are yet many cards to be played along the way...

The stressfull event of the day, which was even more stressful than the
poor winds: our watermaker broke. The pump which we had recently
installed in Rio malfunctioned. The old one refused to work either. Here
we were, sitting in the middle of the ocean with only half a tank of
fresh water:( We believed for a few hours that we would need to go
off-course, divert to a boat with a spare part, and loose sooo much
time... Fortunately, after 6 hours of mounting and taking it apart, the
new pump decided to work again. Ohh, what a relief... (David, who is the
most handy person I have ever met in my life, and Jan were working on
it. David admitted that they were not sure what made it to start working
again. Well... I suppose it just needed a bit of TLC)

The high sides of the day: being out on the ocean once again... The
exposure to the open ocean, the eternity and infinity of the horizon and
the sea, once again. Watching the different colors of the day, the sea
and the clouds... Observing the change in these for signs of different
weather conditions lying ahead. Trimming the sails, changing them,
getting physically challenged at times, and relaxing for a few hours
afterwards just appreciating the beauty and wildness of the ocean. It is
so good to be out here again.

So that's the news from the day
Keep an eye on me:)

A Totally Different Story: 2nd Leg

Hello!
We're back racing again, crossing the Atlantic for a second time,
HURRAY!!
The race start was on 27th Tuesday, and we waved goodbye to Rio on a
rainy and hasty day. Our start was across Urca, a pretty competitive
one, turned around a mark right infront of Sugar Loaf, turned another
mark at the end of Copacabana Beach. So we had a proper farewell
ceremony to Rio…

The competition among the boats soon lead itself to boat strategies, and
we diverged to the open seas. There is a bunch of boats that have
started moving strictly south, and some others that stayed more
northerly. We are currently among the second fleet.

The race itself has already hinted to have a completely different tone
and challenge versus the previous one: we have been sailing upwind in
the last two days, with 20 knots breeze, and 1m waves crushing against
us.
The life on deck is awesome, really enjoying the challenging sailing
experience, definitely more demanding physically. We have already
changed the headsails several times, almost matching the total of the
headsail changes of the previous leg. Pretty exhausting to carry the
sail on deck from below, set it up, drop the previous sail, hoist the
new one, flick the previous one, pack it and get it below. This already
hints what's awaiting us in the next two and a half weeks, exciting…

But not for all of us. The sailing conditions have already started
challenging the crew: 6 people down, sea-sick. That's 1/3 of the crew…
This was one of the reasons why we stayed a bit northerly than we had
initially wanted to, considering that the conditions further south are
even more challenging. Giving the crew to catch a breath…

Despite my zeal on-deck, I cannot claim the life below deck to be
enjoyable. As the hatches are closed, it's very hot, airless, humid, and
well, stinky down below. Moving, sleeping, using the heads, eating,
dressing up at a steep angle, with little space and while bouncing off
the waves is very demanding. Cooking and cleaning under these
circumstances, don't try thinking about it, it's draining, a mission
impossible…

And, I had to face that challenge already: Tough luck, first day
Motherwatch:( Not pleasant one bit, actually pretty torturous,
considering that I was missing the early, eager times of racing…
Anyways, at least it's over now… For another 6 days

So, that's the news from the first two days of racing…
Keep an eye on me:)

Aaaaahhhhhh... Victory slipping from our hands by a few miles...

Today, is the toughest day ever...
We finished Leg 1 as of 5 am this morning, and missed a podium place by
a few miles. The wind hole we got stuck in for 6 hours, trying to make
way in misery first through fog, then under heavy rain cost us the race,
and we finished behind Jamaica by just a few miles.
Everyone on board is awfully disappointed, the moods are pretty low,
exhaustion is dominating physically, and even the fact that we're
motoring towards Rio is not helping.
As you may guess, I'm wholeheartedly sharing the disappointment. Missing
a podium place with a few hours, after holding that place pretty well
for days on end, at the very very very last minute, after 5000 miles...
AAAAAHHHHH... Misery...
Well, there's not much more to say, really...
But to pick up our moods again, and do better in the next leg. The big
race has yet started.
We will have a start for the next leg on 27th of October.
Until then, have happier days than we're currently having...
And don't forget to keep an eye on me from 27th October onwards...

Patience, more patience...

Confirming that the wisdom lies in patiene. Once again, we have been
haing dead winds for the past 12 hours. Our patience has once again been
tested by the continuous flapping of sails and banging of sheets with
every little wave, as well as the stress of falling behind when so close
once again... Fortunately, our competitors had been in similar
conditions, at least until 6am, and we have maintained our strong 3rd
position.

I now start to believe that we are in a never ending race: we had been
projecting to reach Rio yesterday for the past five consequetive days...
Always greeted cheerfully (!) with unpleasant surprises. We won't be
crossing the line yet for another day, again, it looks like... I have
started to wonder if a city called Rio really exists, whether the world
is really round... Or the end of the race will come by falling off the
edge of the earth after racing for infinite days... Patience.. More
patience...

In the mean time, we had the haredest and most problematic watch ever
(at least so far). As the wind died down to literally no existance, and
our spinnaker started burdening us by drafting into the water or
attempting suicide by wrapping around the forestay, we decided to drop
it down. Easier said then done, as the halyard peeled off to its core,
and jammed at the top of the mast with the new external halyard we tried
to hoist earlier on. It took Jan to climb up the mast and sort it out
in half an hour while banging on the mast like a ping-pong ball attached
to a racket. It was very nasty, definitely stressful. As the wind was
still dead down, we hoisted the Windseeker. This time we did not
complain about it though, as we have ran out of properly working
spinnaker halyards, and rely on a temporary one set from outside of the
mast for a long while. Auch... We are currently half sailing half
drifting merely heading towards the finish line, but not right on
course. But, we are contempt that we're finally moving once again.
Another pearls of wisdom, once again: be contempt, embrace the
conditions...

Only 230 miles to go. Only 5 miles behind 2nd boat, yet 17 miles ahead
of the 4th. We sooo want that podium place...

So much news for the day. Keep an eye on me

What a blessed day...

Finally, we're moving. We're moving fast, and steady…
Our wind picked up at around 11, when we did a spinnaker change (a peel!
Awesome, I'll come to this exciting bit later), and had 14-15 knots boat
speed at times.

The peel was just magically on time. The idea is to hoist a new
spinnaker inside the running one, change the rigging (ropes attached to
the running spinnaker) from one to the other, drop the initial
spinnaker, and continue sailing with your new one. It looks lovely, and
it provides a smooth transition of sails without loosing much power. The
most fun part is, of course, climbing the spinnaker pole, and changing
the rope settings, before spiking (letting one end of the spinnaker go
for it to be dropped down) the initial spinnaker. Try giving a guess to
whom it was going up the pole… Not a hard question, I assume, for anyone
who knows how I love the climb. Actually, I think I was too enthusiastic
about it, because skipper mentioned leaving me there until I've had
enough of it.

The peel was JUST ON TIME: a few minutes later, the wind picked up
strongly, and we were thankful to have hoisted the spinnaker for tougher
winds? Then, another 10 minutes later, there was a snap, and the
spinnaker halyard (the rope that holds the spinnaker up on the mast)
that we were using previously broke! Wow, that was close… I think
everyone felt blessed and, protected by a mighty (may it be called
Neptune, God, Universe, Luck or "the Force")

As we once again started screaming downwind, enjoying the adrenalin and
the full concentration for flying the spinnaker, we received the latest
ranking. GOOD NEWS: we're holding our position as the third, even closed
up on the second boat by quite a few miles! Being relieved out of the
concern of falling behind in still seas we had yesterday, with yet news
of an improved position, while we were still running fast, definitely
brought the moods up on board. It's still too soon to sit back and
relax, we're in very very close postings with 2nd and 4th ranks, and
there are yet 230 miles to go.

Things change momentarily, and the wisdom lies in patience, as well as
accepting what's given, and getting the best out of it without making a
fuss. Luck can be on our side for a day, and be with another boat
another day, you never know... With the changing rankings, the shifty
and unpredictable winds, and continuous review on the navigation, the
last few days have started feeling like being on a Tibet monestary,
experiencing, learing and slowly digesting the wisdoms in life; except
that I'm getting my exposure to these at Far West, versus Far East...

So much so for the sailing news, but that's not all… We encounter the
most amazing ocean wild life scenary of the 4700 miles of sailing: we
were greeted into the morning by whales, lots of whales. And they were
not only rolling over the sea, getting their tails, fins out and waving,
even jumping off the water. Soon they were accompanied by a school of
dolphins, jumping out of the water in harmony and energy. These were
breath taking moments, when everyone was gasping, and pointing to a
newly spotted whale or a new school of dolphins. At a point of time, we
could not decide which one of these we chose to watch. Awsome…
Exhilarating… If anything (and there were lots more), the morning was
worth the miles, including the mother watch days?

Soooooo close to the finish now… Really aspiring that podium place
dearly. We're all pushing hard for it. Any wishes of good luck is very
welcomed for the next two days, at least, cross your fingers for us

So much for the news for today. Keep an eye on me

Why on Earth...

As a part of our tracking, we post boat blogs in Clipper web-site. I had
written two previously. I received pretty comforting feedback on them,
so decided to post them on my site as well. I hope you'd enjoy them..
The second one:

"Cape breton Island Diary by Hande Bayik (Legs 1, 2)

Why on Earth?

"Racing across oceans!'

The reactions of most people always ended with an exclamation mark .
Most were full of respect, some green with envy and almost all,
completely puzzled: "Why on Earth?"

Looking at it objectively, getting 19 people who come from ridiculously
different backgrounds and stages of life, none of whom have met before,
on board a yacht to race across oceans sounds slightly nonsensical. What
would bring a farmer, investment banker, doctor, lawyer, marketeer,
student, teacher, journalist.... all aged between 19 and 63 and from 5
different countries, together?

Having now lived through one third of Race2, and having first hand
experience of this bizarre situation, I should know what I'm talking
about and feel the urge to share with you why we're doing this.

Every person on board had slightly different reasons for taking part in
the race: some want to take the experience onboard a racing yacht as a
first step forward to a professional sailing career, some want to be
really knowledgable about sailing and own their sailing boat hopefully
later, some just wanted an adventure, take a break, or simply use it as
a retirement gift. Our reasons for applying to be crew on the race are
as diverse as our backgrounds. Yet no matter what drew these first
intentions, there's an underlying one that we all share: the holy beauty
of sailing and challenge of racing.

Describing the experience, sailing across the ocean evokes a strong
sense of infinity as the horizon stretches from evry direction with
usually not a speck on it apart from the breaking waves. As we climb up
and down the waves, we are simply breathing together with the ocean,
feeling in tune and united with our environment, appreciating its beauty
while watching a sunset or a sunrise, or tracking a glittering path
illuminated by moonlight at night, while also bowing in respect to its
immense power. It really puts life into perspective, about how powerful,
yet how fragile and mortal we are. We all are drawn to be more "down to
earth", which in itself is against the force of nature. It's a holy
feeling, and sailing is like praying.

The boat life also has its gifts. Despite the continous rocking back and
forth, the lack of things you take for granted onshore like showers or
a toilet flush, and learning to spare water, function in very restricted
space and sleeping for max 3 hours at a time, the simplicity and
singlemindedness on board is a type of meditation. We end up cleaning
our minds of the worries of daily life, the multi-functionality, the
juggling, either while concentrating on sailing or by being exhausted by
it. We grow an appreciation for mundane little things (like wearing a
clean T-shirt - a real treat!)

And being in a race also brings its jewels. We have to learn, and learn
quickly about how to make most of the boat and sails, while taking care
of them. Creative problem solving is the name of the game on a daily
basis, as there are only so many things onboard, and we must keep
everything working properly and maintained. Racing also brings along a
physical and mental challenge requiring full concentration against all
odds and a continuous physical effort. The boat's and the crew's safety
lie in each other's hands, urging both a strong sense of responsibility
and trust.

And let's not forget too that there's also a strong sense of pride in
this whole experience as well. We're all proud to not let a dream pass
us by, but hold on to it, have the guts to realise it, and take every
effort to be able live it. We will look back on this experience and
recall proudly that we have raced across oceans.

At the end, there are only a few things in life that can propose all
these cherishes of a life all at once, and here we are, living it. This
is the reason "Why on Earth?"

Cape Breton Island standing by.
"

stealth...motherhood..and misery...

Well… Today is not the best of days of sailing:
Mainly because I'm on mother watch once again. Having an 8 hour sleep
time served me so very well. It's impossible to sleep undisturbed,
there's always a new noise, it's either the watch change, or a sail
change, or being too hot in the bunk… Yet, having 8 hours dedicated to
sleeping was awesome. Yet, there's a price to pay for this luxury: the
motherwatch day starts around 7:00, preparing breakfast for the team
(preparing porridge, tea, whipping fresh milk from milk powder), giving
a good clean to the heads, and antibacking (this is a frequently used
invented word among the team now,basically wiping all used surfaces with
antibacterial sprey) the rest of the surfaces below deck. Then comes the
washing up (20 sets of cutlery and dishes, huge pots for cooking, needs
an effort for sure) & cleaning the galley. If you had been fast enough,
you can take half an hour before starting preparing the lunch. Serve
lunch for two watches, more washing up. Pump out the 180lt of washing up
water from the grey tank, Then comes the most luxurious times of the
day: 2 hours free time! This is before starting preparing the dinner.
Cook again for 20 people in huge pots. Then seriously more washing up.
Clean the heads thoroughly, empty the grey tank once again. Then, as a
token for all the suffering, we're granted a shower (with roughly 3
liters water allowance). It's 9pm by then, and we have to go back on to
our sailing watches.
The toughest moment of the watch: preparing lunch in a 3 metersquare
area when two ovens and a stove was working adding to the literally
boiling hot on deck. I could feel my skin melting away…
Best moment of the watch: Baking BREAD ROLLS that were really good.
Ironically, I had to sail all the way down to Rio to initiate my bakery
experience in action…

The toughest moment in sailing: aaaaaahhhhh… we got stuck again… Started
out with an awesome run in the morning, great breeze speeding us in the
direction we aimed at, flying us towards the finish line. That zeal did
not last long, we got stuck about 4 hours ago, and have been making baby
crawls in the sea since. At the least, we know we now have one further
day added to reach Rio. Just crossing fingers that we have not lost our
position:(:( Soooo miserable...

Well… So much news from the day. Final note of the day: it's really very
hot in here, looking forward to a cooler leg…

Keep an eye on me

Top 5

As a part of our tracking, we post boat blogs in Clipper web-site. I had
written two previously. I received pretty comforting feedback on them,
so decided to post them on my site as well. I hope you'd enjoy them..
The first one:

"Cape `Breton Island Daily Diary

Thursday 15th October at 12.00pm off Salvador, west coast of Brazil

Hande Bayik

Top five conversations onboard CBI

I am trying to remember what were my daily easy conversation topics with
friends and family well over a month ago. I vaguely recall some bits and
pieces: discussing a few changes in the organisation at work,
criticising politics, recommending a good restaurant, a new CD, a good
book, making plans for an evening out, listening to the stories of
recently acquired habits of my friends' kids, cheekily catching up on
the high-street gossip, evaluating how life is and how it should be…

Having sailed for about 34 days now (including from Hull to La
Rochelle), our topics of conversation have changed dramatically. So here
are the top 5 favourite topics on board:
- FOOD: The conversation either is on the dining menus once we
reach Rio, or on what else we should have bought for the boat. The
highly rated menu: steak, wine, apples, salad, ice cream and lots of
fruit. Then there is a long list all sorts of food missed dearly: wine
gums, crisps, yogurt, a good mohito, roast dinner, veggies… Although the
dinners are mostly wholesome, the appetite for rice, pasta, canned food
is declining drastically, while the desire for fresh food builds in
(since we ran out of them 9 days ago), triggerrng hot day-dreaming
conversations on good food. And, of course, we have a wish list for the
next boat shopping…
- RACING POSITION: How we are doing versus the fleet, pep talks to
boost morale and regenerate motivation to check, check and check again
the trim. This topic is also set off at the navigation station, when
there are a pair of eyes evaluating the wind direction/forecast, the
latest positions of the rest of the fleet, the currents, the rhum line,
the speed so far, when to and where to make another evolution or sail
hange.
- HEADS: This is a "fruitful" and never ending conversation,
thanks to the heads causing such unpleasant and frankly pretty gross
trouble every so often: the surprises include blocking, pump failure,
overflowing. This provides a hot conversation on how many times we
should be pumping, how much oil we should flush down daily etc. (I
cannot give further details for the readers' sake)
- SHOWERS: This conversation is particularly popular after an
exhausting evolution, and after the mothers of the day come on the deck
after having taken a shower (the one token per 9 days, and in return for
all the tough service given all day long). Everyone dreams and talks
about a cold shower, a warm bath, the type of aromas of soap and shower
gels, booking SPA treatments after coming back…
- CLEAN LINENS AND STABLE BED: Well, this is a relatively low key
conversation, mostly started by a crew member not having had a good
sleep during off time. The desire for a stable bed is followed by clean
linens, silence, 8 hours on end, air conditioning.

I can certify that it's possible to live without news on politics,
gossips, latest book or CD releases?

Roll on Rio!

Cape Breton Island standing by."

So close... so far...

What a race!
After more than 4500 miles, we are competing literally head to head.
Unfortunately, after our wind-dry hours when Australia and Jamaica
passed us, and claimed second and third position respectively, we have
been struggling a bit. We gained back our position in 3rd place
yesteray, lost it once again to Jamaica today... The positions change
momentarily depending on the navigation strategy, how wind behaves
versus the weather forecast grids, the efficiency in trim and helm. We
are in full concentration, and really pushing it. It has been tiring and
frustrating, considering we were awaiting 15 knots of breeze today, when
we got only 5 for several hours, and under literally roasting weather
conditions. It was draining for the whole crew
For those tracking the race daily, we will be going into stealth mode
tonight, so our position will not be posted to our competitors and
trackers for 24 hours. We have a very interesting strategy in mind to
follow, just cross fingers that it works and wins us a podium place:)

PS: In the mean time, we (actually David, who's the handiest person I
have seen) have found the leak, and were able to stop it. Good news:)
PPS: The highlight of the day, definetly helming in light weather and
managing it:)

Keep an eye on me...

Not all times are good times

Unfortunately, not all times were meant to be good times… we've had a
turn around point, and things have started going faul in the past 18
hours:)
We had a severe drop in the wind, which came as a surprise, the forecast
was not quite so… Followed by news that Australia passed us once again,
and put some milage in between. We have Jamaica, Cork closing on us as
well. The situation was confirmed with the latest weather forecast, the
wind was lower in force and more Easterly than the initial forecast,
putting a disadvantage on us versus the other boats; I have to admit
that a bit tension has creeped in on board, as well as more
concentration on trim & helming. Tough and unpredictable days ahead of
us… It feels like we are having a late lived doldrum scenario on scene.
So close to Rio, and yet so far

Our piece of bad luck was not restricted with the weather. We discovered
that our bilges (the space between the floors and the haul of the boat,
used mostly for storage, tanks etc) had a significant amount of water,
fresh water… We sucked out about 200 liters, or maybe more… We are
keeping on pumping it out as it builds? So much rationing for the fresh
water, and here are, having a leak which we could not spot yet, pumping
fresh water into the bilges. Also, quite a heavy weight sitting on the
wrong side of the boat, killing speed when we most need it. Auch.

Not ALL things were bad though, there was an amazing moment, another
milestone for sailors: we saw the green light on sunset. This is a
pretty rare occasion, and needs the right visibility and humidity to
happen. You can either see a green flash, or a green halo for about a
second at sunset. Miracles in life…

And another touch of wild life: we were visited by a school of WHALES,
not the biggest ones, but big enough to hold on to ensure not to fall
into the ocean. There were more than 10 of them, moving all around the
boat. We passed the inspection, they soon lost interest and left us
alone with our tension in the race once again…

Well, so much news for the day
Keep an eye on me:)

Hot Stories ouf of press

Quite a few stories to tell from the past few days…

First of all, we have been ranking 2nd for the past 40 hours! Great and
yet stressful feeling, as the boat we have left behind is only 2 miles
away. We really are putting quite a bit of effort to keep top trim, top
helming and top speed… Crossing fingers that we'll be able to maintain
this podium place for the last couple of days

Another hit event was crossing the equator! Well, I'm officially a more
mature sailor, now that I have checked this important milestone in a
sailors' life?? (I wish it was this easy) The crossing took place on the
12th of October at 12:50 AM. So much so for the stereotyped equator
crossings under light winds, hot weather, smooth seas, leveled boat and
a bright daytime. We crossed the equator at night time, under 15-20
knots of upwind breeze, cool weather, boat healing to 35-40 degrees, but
no less fun. We skipped the weird ritual of covering the first time
crossers in remaining food, and every crew member has been thankful for
that decision (we had a dense feeling that Neptune preferred a cleaner
crew on deck? ). However, we did have a toast, thanking Neptune for the
awesome weather conditions and smooth seas, than had a few more toasts
to our skipper's touching speech, to the skipper, to our performance… We
speared "Neptune's share" of drink and presented him a glass of 10 year
old Single Malt Whisky (Benromach, for those who wonder) as well. Well,
the hour of the crossing was the only time the boat was not a
"dry-boat". We had some music on, and glow sticks to top up the fun.
There was one ritual that we did not miss out though, some of the crew
DID dress up for the event, meaning as silly clothes on stage as would
be for a hen/stag night. Two gents dressed up in teenage girl beach
clothes, another in ballerina costume (that was a hit one), a girl
dressed up like a Captain Jack Sparrow, with the proper make up on as
well, and finally I, wearing a belly dancing skirt! It was cheersome,
stupidly funny, and a good top up to morale

The other news, is that we have less than 4 days to go to reach Rio!
We're officially close to South America mainland! At the dawn of our
first month of racing (13th September to October), it's exciting to be
slightly ahead of the schedule, and among the leading boats. Awsome!

Finally, another high point came in the morning; finally some touches of
excitement and a new experience in my helming. I was steering at 5:30
AM, through a pretty dark night, when we spotted that we were
approaching a big heavy dark cloud. By the time we could have half the
crew down to wear some waterprooves, it started pouring as strong as a
shower, and the wind speed boosted from 8-9 knots to 20+ knots in less
than a minute. Being on the helm through a squall was definetly good
fun, and gave me a bit of adrenalin rush (as well as soaked wet
clothes). I spent the rest of the morning at the pulpit, calling for
head-sail trim as the wind was continuously changing direction, getting
further soaked, but enjoying the beautiful, clean, clear sunrise from
the sea, the new chill of the morning. Still, calling off the watch,
getting some dry clothes on were releaving moments. Great great times

We also had a funny moment in the morning, we saw a ship approaching,
which was heading to pass by us by a good 5 miles. Well, they definetly
were curious about what on earth was a 68 foot sailing boat doing in the
middle of no-where, they changed course, and passed about a mile from
us. We could see a bunch of crew lined up at the aft. Imagine what they
were thinking? I guess we were reported in their log book as the event
of the day? Waving greeting in the middle of the ocean was a moment of
humanity… Considering that we have not been seeing more than specs of
ships in the ocean for so long, having a ship so close by, seeing other
human beings was as interesting to us as seeing dolphins (or maybe a
little less, dolphins are more interesting, but well, you get the point)

That's the news from the past few days
Take care & keep an eye on me…

Life at 35 degrees

Quite a few major news in the past severa days.

We're now officially living at 35 degrees. That is the temperature AND
angle of heel on board. We have been incredibly fortunate with our
Doldrums experience - we passed from down-wind sailing (when the wind
hits the boat mostly from behind) to up-wind sailing (when the wind
comes mostly from the bow) in a few hours rather than a few days. So we
did not have to take the test of resilience and patience, waiting for
the wind to rise for several days under roasting sun, then meeting the
heavy burdening winds of the squalls. I think we have had enough of it
around Canaries, and Neptune has been very kind to us.

Today is the 20th day on board, and we have travelled a significantly
long way: the closest continent is now South America, and we have
travelled from 51 degrees North, down to 2 degree North. We estimate to
cross the equator within 24-36 hours! Than we will start reporting
increasing degrees in the Southern Hemisphere, really very exciting:)

We're holding a good and very close 4th position within the fleet: only
1/2 and 2 hours of difference versus third and second ranks
respectively. We really are pushing hard not to end up missing a podium
ranking by less than an hour after 30 days of sailing at the end...
Currently we are enjoying 7-10 knots speed upwind. Happy happy days… -

The change of wind direction changes sailing and life on board
completely: I now know why down-wind sailing is called "gentlemen's
sailing". Although the boat is floppy, it's more or less levelled. Come
up-wind sailing, and we have lost one more luxury.
Living at 35 degrees heel is not the easiest of tasks at all. We need to
exceed our sailing skills plus add a combination of rock climbing, hard
course trekking and slipsliding to our competency set.

I feel rather like being part of a computer game: every game (which
onboard translates into me joining my watch or deck crew) you either
score or lose points as follows:

The watch starts trying to dress in the bunk when nailed down to the
side: 10 points. Next comes the jump off the bunk: secure safe ankle in
landing, ensure not to lean or land on anyone, find something to hold
onto once landed so as not to crashland onto the side of the bunk.
Successfully managed: 25 points!

Here's the next challenge then: walk to the saloon, over the sails,
while carrying sailing gear and life jacket; had a nasty knock on the
shoulder on the way, missed, minus 15 points.

Using the heads: do not fall off the toilet, do not fall into the saloon
half naked, be clean and leave the heads spotless: 75 points, (100
points if managed in less than 10 minutes).

Then comes a more tricky bit: dining in the saloon when only 3 seats
provide seating without tilting or sliding off - with a crew of 20 and
10 piling into the saloon at meal times, eating can be a hectic and
haphazard experience. The saloon is bricked by other crewmember's legs
stuck to the walls to avoid slipping and there are no handrails to hang
on to on one side. The "mission impossible" is to climb over the legs,
keeping balanced and not falling onto or annoying anyone, serve yourself
the food on the elevated floor without spilling it, find a seating place
with food in one hand, land at the spot, and finally secure yourself
with a leg on the wall before gently sliding off the seat. Hey, done
without a failure, this brings 200 points. Repeating the same success
rate three days back to back will bring me a level up the scale.

The next level requires some of these to be managed without holding on
all the time. Challenge for the rest of the journey
Sincere call to all those on land: enjoy level surfaces!
And keep an eye on me:)

Hot news

Unfortunately, the news is not so hot, but the weather is...

We're happily sailing through the trade winds, and thankfully with winds
scaling between 10-20 knots. Comfortable down-wind sailing with a
spinnaker up.
Fortunatel, the flying fish attacks have decreased in the past two
nights, with only 2-3 fishes per night. Figity, slimy creatures...

As for the rest, the heat has definetly climbed in. It's hot and
directly exposed to sun on deck, and hotter and boiling in humuidity
down in the galley. All our fans are on, but still we all find sleeping
very challenging. Lack of sleep promotes lethargy to creep in. Night
watches have become particularly harder, as the tiredness really sets in
more then... Not having a shower is a huge challenge. Cherish showers,
big time!

Still, if anything, my major regret is not being able to attend leg3,
which is sailing through the southern ocean. I would have loved to
experience bigger seas and tougher weather conditions before this whole
experience is over. So much so for the trade winds... Well, the journey
is yet not over, the scolls (imagine a wall of weather,exit to doldrums,
where the wind suddenly changes direction and triple speed. It's a
slapping welcome back into the trade winds, and usually costs sailors a
spinnaker break.) seem promising for a bit of an adventure:)

Other highlights: we saw two huge whales the other day. They were bigger
than the boat, and we guess that they were sperm whales. Massive
creatures, and frightening at a close distance, to be honest...

Will be writing soon again

Keep an eye on me...

Scores at night

You think ocean life is a lnely one, think again. There are so many
flying fish that we have lost complete interest in them by now.
I have to admit we had a funny intorduction to their strange slying
patterns yesterday when we had our first visitor, a relatively big
flying fish scoring through a small hatch and ending up in the boat!
Learning, never underestimate risks: the chances of hitting a closed dry
hole in the middle of the ocean is 200cm2/million square miles, and it
still happens
We had two more scores: one flying fishing hitting Tom and another
hitting me on deck. Otherwise, we had to keep an eye open to throw away
any further introdours back into the sea.

still keeeping a great sailing rithim, 15-25 knots, swells... Several
gybes a day to keep the right angle. and still gaining miles over the
rest of the fleet. We are now ranking 4th, and trying to close on our
next rival which was 60 miles ahead on rum line last night. Some good
racing going on.

Final note of the day: it's getting really really hot here. 30 degrees
out on deck, 35-40 down below, not the best of choices to make among
direct sunlight and heat, or no wind and more heat. It will become worse
at the equator, trying to prepare myself for it...

So much for the news of the day
Keep an eye on me:)

Stock Market Prices for Rare Items

Well... Moving to our 12th day of sailing since we left La Rochell,
appreciation for mundane daily things are climbing. The perceived stock
price of some items in particular are increasing for me each day:
- Tiolets that flush properly. (PLEASE... Blockage is a horror story,
smelly, filthy, time consuming, and unfortunately happening every other
day) - £100 daily
- A proper toilet flush, not a manual pump - £30 daily
- Showers... (God, I will surely be thankful for every morning shower I
will have from now on) - £50 per shower
- A good meal: a juicy medium-rare steak, fresh salad to go with it
(with plum tomatoes and mustard souce please), a glass of chilled
Muscad, and a huge bowl of fresh fruit salad with vanilla ice cream, and
a glass of port wine to top the meal up... - £200 (as we have have ran
out of fresh veggies and fruit a few days ago, I started to realise how
much I miss them)
- Sleeping through a complete night in a silent place, preferably stable
as well - £200 per night
I realise that I cannot afford to ask for more:) I think I can endure
washing 2-3 pieces of shirts in sea water during our mother watch every
9 days, that's not too bad :)

Otherwise, great day of sailing. We are now enjoying the nice stable,
strong trade winds, and moderate ocean swells all pushing us in the
right direction. We had another lovely night, almost full moon lighting
the night, glimmering on the ocean. Good 20-25 knots of breeze... And a
very enthusiastic school of dolphins jumping as high as deck level,
keeping us in company at a point of time. Having another bright day
dawn, and blessed with still strong winds of 15-25knots. Enough to keep
us busy and concetrated, yet not too demanding

We had good concetration in the team, which paid back with another
strong milage record versus the fleet, bringing us another increase in
our position, now we are ranking 5th. Slowly getting there:)

Also we had a pampering day with bread rolls in breakfast, and a slice
of freshly cooked bread per person during evening! Awsome treats from
the mother watch today. I literally burried mine in Nutella and enjoyed
both with the joy of a kid recieving a present.

Will keep you posted
Keep an eye on me:)

Space walking, pond sailing, finally back in the game...

There was a reason to not hearing much from me for a while...
The inevitable has taken its course, and sea sickness got hold of me at
the most unexpected time. It did take me a few days to recover enough
from it to fgeel confident about sitting at the little cave called the
Navigation Station where the computer is situated, and consentrating on
a screen. But, well, I'm back:)

First of all sea sickness. There are three stages to sea sickness: in
the first stage, you are afraid that you're gonna die, in the second
stage, you wish you were, and in the third, you think you already are...
I can now confirm that this staging is completely correct. The stomach
decides to rock in a completely different direction and rithim to the
rest of your body and the boat, you feel like youre walking in space,
and not quite feel involved in the moment. Wierd, and not too pleasant.
I have to admit that I'm thankful for the recovery:)

As for the timing: I got sea sick when we were literally tortured by
"pond sailing". We had 3 days, with the sea sitting as still as a glass
of water, the strongest breeze only as strong as a relieving deep
breath, speed challenging those of snails, heat building in. So much for
the big ocean swells, and 20-30 knots of wind, and stressfull helming...
(And here I was, being sea sick over the mini movements of sea, when I
had absolutely no problem when all the boat was rocking, irony...)
I could not help thinking of the old merchant ships, sitting in the
middle of the ocean, waiting for trade winds to build back in, getting
worried about their food and drink supplies. Probably tension building
in together with the rising tempuratures and scarcity of water. The
tick, the ropes drying down, and sails flapping without any rithim just
like ours did. It felt just like visiting an archeological site,
thinking about what life must have been like back then.

Well, these are the days when you win or loose the race... The calm
waters was like another start, lining most of the fleet up. Almost all
the rankings changed as the fleet took different strategies. Some went
in between the Canaries, and took different routes even then, some went
west and some went east of Canaries. We were among those going in
between the islands. It proved to be a medioacre strategy and luck. We
seem to be still ranking in the middle of the fleet.

Several things were enjoyable for a change: we saw land for the first
time since 8 days: Fuerteventura and Grand Canarie islands. Watching sun
rise upon Fuerteventura, while finally and gladly leaving it behind was
an inspiring sight in particular. All colors of orange, and red and
blue, shading the land, and then the clouds in level with the land,
slowly yielding to a bright yellow and the rise of the sun. Looked more
like a photoshopped beauty picture than real. More Dolphins visiting the
boat to explore what was up, but getting bored pretty soon as we were
not making any speed to challenge them and keep them busy. Sea turtles,
though they were not as interested in the boar as the dolphins, they
just swam by.

As soon as I was over the sea sickness, I went up the mast for a rig
check yesterday. Once again being 90-95 foot above water, in an
elevating view, with the boat looking smaller down at my feet,
seeing the horizon from a totally different perspective (I could really
recognise that the world's slight roundness fromup there), swinging more
than the rest of the boat, moving in between the spreaders and working
on the screws, the stays, making sure all is fine was completely
exhilirating. I LOVE IT!

We've finally picked up breeze late yesterday, giving us all a cheer.
Finally a Spinnaker hoist (dropped down the windseeker, god bless:) ),
and started putting some miles behind us. We got hold of Edinbrough's
steering light and chased them down last night. It seemed like they had
a problem, and dropped significantly behind (I hope it's nothing too
serious). Now we can see Jamaica a few miles ahead of us and we're
chasing them for another position. Just like the start of the race...
Being in sight of another boat, after 5-6 days brings better
concentration and morale in the team as well...

Going for some rest now.
Keep an eye on me:)