Yacht Tracker
I started keeping my diary on the 11th of August - day four - but circumstances meant the updates stopped after two entries!  The rest I have pieced together and should be in just about the right order:
We have reached the southwest coast of Ireland and hopefully I can add my first diary entry before an hours sleep. Barely had a minute to spare so far, the day before the race was very busy but we set off in good time for a racing start out of the Solent.  We held the lead for a short time until some of the bigger boats overtook us, but I think we still held our own in our class. The first day or so was comfortable enough, with favourable winds seeing us along the southern side of the Isle of Wight, but since then we have been beating against the wind all the way from the westcountry, the Scilley Isles and across to Ireland, with some confused seas and a generally rocky ride all the way. I think everyone has been frustrated by living aboard so far - the boat is not pleasant below decks at the best of times, but now we have several leaks and most of the bunks are soaking wet.  Every watch change sees bodies all over the cabin floor for 20 minutes or more, stumbling around trying get foul weather gear on so the other watch can knock off. This usually means a three hour break only gives you two hours rest.  It doesn't look like improving anytime soon - now we have turned the corner to head up the west coast of Ireland we are facing a steady northerly wind to fight against.
This northerly wind is here to stay. We're currently beating up the west coast of Ireland, hopefully we will pass Black Rock in the next few hours, and we may be able to bear off a little.  Not much chance of sailing downwind which is a shame, partly because that is where the boat goes fast and we could make up some time, but also because it will make life easier for the crew. In these conditions it is a real job to do even the most basic tasks like getting into a sleeping bag or eating. Using the heads is pretty difficult.  With a recently created internal pouch going to the toilet isn't much fun for me even at home, but on a racing yacht in a 20 knot breeze it's a mission, then throw in some atlantic swell and it's a really harrowing experience.

After rounding Black Rock we did have the opportunity to bear off eastwards slightly, however to our dismay the wind also moved round so we continued our windward struggle.  By now it is obvious that the leaks are not only getting worse but also mixing with waste from the heads as well as flakes of paint from the hull, so we could see exactly where the dirty bilge water was saturating our bunks, kit and clothing etc.  Four of the bunks are pretty much useless for sleeping in now that the waves are bigger and sending water flooding through the main hatch on a regular basis.  Sleeping anywhere on the boat would be very uncomfortable without a waterproof sleeping bag cover and a sense of humour.

		The boil-in-the-bag meals, which had been so well received during the qualifying races, are becoming much less appealing.  Least favourite are Lancashire hotpot (known as LHP by now) and chicken dopiaza, mainly because we have eaten them so many times.  Beef stew and dumplings (BSD) is still bearable, and chilli con carne is a rare treat.  Luckily we have plenty of energy rich flapjacks and other snacks like cereal bars and fruit bread, and every day we have ‘happy hour’, when each of us can savour a miniature chocolate bar.

It is obvious that modern technology has taken a serious dislike to me.  The battery in my mobile email gadget is flat, and the charger I bought in Cowes before we left is not working at all.  The satellite phone on board hasn’t worked since we left and we are not getting a GPRS service either.  This has thrown a massive spanner in the works for me as one of my main aims of doing the race is that I can report back and keep people informed of my progress. Now it has really sunk in that I can’t email or update my website at all, and I am utterly dismayed.  The main reason for taking part in this race aside from the fundraising was to keep people informed of my progress, so that anyone who is interested could see how I coped.  I know there are loads of people following the yacht tracker and checking my diary so I feel completely gutted.

We are still hammering upwind.  It is hard to believe really, it would be more likely to have the same beat across the Irish Sea but then pick up the prevailing wind behind us until Scotland.  At this rate it feels like we will be beating forever.  Although we are all in a routine now and used to eating, sleeping etc whilst being thrown in all directions and living at forty five degrees, it is still extremely exhausting and uncomfortable, and we all wish for even just a slight ease to gather ourselves a bit.  The cat food sachets aren’t getting any better either.

To keep the boats batteries charged we run the engine at regular intervals to ensure there is always power for the lights, navigation equipment, radio etc.  it has recently started making the squealing noise indicative of a loose alternator belt, so I take a look.  After half an hour of being bounced upside down in the engine bay I was beginning to feel rather hot and queasy and had managed to tighten the two belts a little, so thought it best to put my tools away and wait for the next engine run to see if its fixed.  If not then hopefully the conditions will be better and I can do the job properly.  Thankfully the noise had stopped so I went and got some sleep before the next watch.

		Sailing the boat is obviously physically tiring, but I think sail changes are the most strenuous activity at the moment.  The wind is changing in strength quite often so we are regularly dragging a different foresail onto the deck, and the sails are pretty big so you really need to put your back into hoisting them. I generally work on the foredeck with Mike, and we seem to spend most of the time in the water as our weight on the bow sends it straight into the waves. I then pull the sail up at the mast with Alan in the pit taking in the halyard and then winching it in to give it tension.  By the time Mike and I get back to the cockpit we are usually hot and sweaty and needing a drink even if the process has gone smoothly.

The symbolic moment that we rounded Muckle Flugga rock.  We were not far from shore at this time but due to the deep fog didn’t see the rock or any of Shetland either.  On a positive note, the wind is behind us for the first time in probably a week, which is a novelty and we are all on our toes and enjoying sailing with the spinnaker at long last. The boat is fairly flat now as well, and riding with the waves rather than against, so we can cook rice with our dinner which makes a nice change, and also makes it much more palatable. The downwind fun didn’t last long, and we were soon back on ‘a very close reach’, that had been our predominant point of sail so far.

Diesel has leaked into the cabin.  As if the effluent bilge water wasn’t bad enough, we are now skating about on a film of oil.  Thankfully we have managed to clear most of it up during a brief calm spot but you never seem to be able to completely remove diesel from anything.  It turns out the alternator belt is not fixed properly, but I am leaving it for now as we do not have the appropriate tool for the allen bolt that holds it in place, and if I have to bodge it I’d rather wait until I can do it in relatively stable weather.

Have seen dolphins in daylight at last!  They have visited the boat a few times but only at night when I have seen them.  They are obviously enjoying themselves racing around the keel and the bow when it cuts into the water, and shooting past in pairs before splitting apart and leaping out of the water.  Everyone is fascinated by these creatures and it is not hard to see why – they are so graceful, and you can easily sit on the rail and gaze at them until they finally get bored and find a different part of the ocean to play.  I wonder what they think of us grinding along in our strange white box.

Managed to fix the alternator belt, its not too rough and we are on a starboard tack so I have the best access to the engine bay.  Feel quite satisfied to have fixed something after just being battered for days.

We have discovered a so far untested and totally disgusting bag meal – sausage casserole.  I have taken a chance on this and most of it has ended up in the drink.  Tony has livened things up by accepting a Russian roulette style challenge in the form of an unmarked sachet.  His risk paid off, and he tucked into what I think was chicken and pasta (a much sought after delicacy these days) while the rest of us endured another sitting of LHP.

For most of our watch we have been watching some flashing lights in the distance.  We cannot work out there is an electrical storm approaching or if they belong to a number of capped wellheads ahead of us on the chart, as we cannot hear any thunder.  Given the regularity of the flashes we came to the conclusion that they are wellheads, especially as we are coming into sight of several oil rigs. All of a sudden we did start to hear the thunder, and very quickly the lightening became very close, and very big.  We were passing near a large rig when we entered the storm, and as the night became much lighter we also had a ship bearing down on us very quickly.  To our left was another well which was on fire, and as we avoided the ship and hastily dropped the mainsail and tied it down there was a thick, black smoke around us.

A totally new crisis has emerged – there are less than two toilet rolls left, and one packet of wet wipes.  The skipper started to divide the remaining supplies between the ten of us but then came upon a more creative solution – storing the rolls in the cabin so that anyone taking some would be on full view of their crewmates, as well as exactly how many sheets they were taking!

Reaching East Anglia we have now sighted land for the first time since the west coast of Ireland.  This has been far from a scenic race, I brought my camera but have hardly used it  since there has been nothing but sea for most of the race. The waves are pretty big and we are tacking often, making for a day of very uncomfortable sailing.  Given my medical history, I have spent a lot of this voyage monitoring the sea conditions, wind strength and tack for the best time to visit the heads.  This is possibly one of the worst times to attempt it and in all honesty, at this moment I am rather scared.

I have held out for as long as I can and can wait no longer.  The waves are very big, but I am buoyed up by the fact I have seen two other crewmembers tackle the same task and emerge unscathed, although they do look quite shaken.  Never mind, I consider myself to be quite an expert in extreme toilet sitting now, so I try to think happy thoughts and clamber below decks. The toilet is at the front of the boat, so every wave is amplified, seeming to leave you in a squatting freefall followed by a very hard impact with the next wave (I won’t go into details, if anyone would like specific advice then drop me a line!) but I managed to successfully complete my mission with minimal damage to either myself or the boat.

The sea has improved but is still unrelenting.  We are counting the hours until the tide changes in the English Channel, hoping we can make it in time – we are eking out every possible knot of boat speed but it is looking very close.

Its Friday night and we’re celebrating being nearly on the homeward stretch.  I have dived into the emergency rations and discovered a cache of chilli con carne, which I somewhat unwisely volunteered to prepare with rice and tortillas for our evening meal.  The sea conditions are not ideal for such an adventurous spread, and after we finally served it up I was in desperate need of a lie down, completely forgetting to check if anyone wanted puddings.

The south coast was fairly uneventful, apart from the fact we picked up mobile phone reception.  As my phone had broken much earlier in the race I borrowed Kate’s to retrieve my answer phone messages and then soon wished I had left it until I got home. We found out we had overtaken Magnum II which pleased us, and we are getting ever closer to the finish line and dry land.  The environment in the cabin is even fouler and I for one can’t wait to get off.

I was on the midnight – 3am watch, but as we were reaching the Solent we stayed on deck, after twelve days of sailing we were not going to miss the finish!  Surprise surprise, we were tacking upwind all the way up the Solent, and just for good measure several ships were also coming and going so gave us plenty to do avoiding them and tacking back again before we run aground. There was some confusion when we suddenly lost control of the boat – it turned out the steering gear had snapped.  This was not a good time for this to happen but luckily we have two wheels that work independently of each other and only the one on the port side was affected.  As we were only a couple of hours from the finish could make do with just one, and we had been lucky so far that this was our only -serious- breakage to contend with.

At 05:01 on Sunday 20th August we crossed the finish line in 9th place, and we dropped the sails for the last time and headed the royal Yacht Squadron pontoon to meet the representatives of the Royal Ocean Racing Club. We were presented with a bottle of champagne which was gratefully received, and then moored up in Cowes to finally step on dry land.  It felt very strange to have been on the same boat for over twelve days, sailing non stop all the way round Britain and Ireland.  Aside from the physical exertion and the stamina sapping routine, all ten of us had to continue to work as a team and live in a space about 12ft wide for the duration of the race, which we did successfully against whatever odds could be thrown at us on the way round. Although the conditions ranged from bearable to appalling, and from tiresome shifts to strenuous activity, I am glad to have competed.  I have lost about a stone in weight and am quite exhausted, and have spent the fortnight since returning home eating, sleeping and recovering from some sort of chest infection, but I would probably have been scared to do this before my surgery, now I am looking forward to my next challenge!

Sea Survival Course
Offshore sailing can be very dangerous, so to prepare ourselves for the dangers of sailing non-stop around Britain and Ireland it is essential we attend a sea survival course.
The first day mainly covered the theory of surviving in cold water and the hazards we will be facing on the voyage.  The sea is a very powerful force and needs to be treated with caution, and we will be sailing through constantly changing weather systems and tides so will have to be aware of our surroundings at all times.
		Day two was much more hands on – in the swimming pool being drenched by hoses!  Even in these safe conditions it soon becomes very hard work – swimming laps fully clothed and climbing into a cramped, wobbly liferaft, we’re now all praying we never have to do the same thing in a real survival situation.  One of the biggest lessons we learnt is that we really don’t want to end up in the water, as soon as that happens we will need to be rescued as soon as possible to stand any chance of surviving.