The Finish

Having sailed the whole of Saturday in patchy wind (as if the forecast wind blew as promised, then had to catch its breath before it blew again) we made land fall just north of Cabo Frio. The thing about South America in this race is that one should try not to miss it, and having achieved that, one should try not to hit it. We did neither. We rounded Cabo Frio, and headed off shore to avoid the much talked about parking lot.

It was a lovely Sunday sail down the coast. A moderate wind kept us going at around seven knots, and we were visited by dolphins twice – as if to welcome us to the continent.

In the benign conditions, the family relaxed and Mom sat us all down and made us each relate the three best things about our experience.  Some turned out to be pretty profound, but I won’t bore you with too much detail. It was then time to wash up, brush up, and get ready for the finish. We all got dressed in our Investec kit, to look at our best for the finish.

The bay of Rio is a really beautiful place, and is entered past (or through) some magnificent volcanic formations. We negotiated the entry to the bay, trying desperately to stay in the breeze. The afternoon was wearing on, and the last thing we felt like was to be becalmed just before the finish.

And so we headed for the finish, as majestically as we could manage, with full mainsail, and our biggest Zebra spinnaker. Mom was on the helm, with the rest of us all on deck, soaking in the sight of this beautiful place.

A few miles from the finish, we were met by a media boat, and our attention was distracted by all the greetings and jocularity. Mom said that she thought things were going to get interesting, and, as usual, she was quite right.

She had spotted a build up of breeze in the distance, coming in fast. Ryan took over the helm. The rest of us trimmed for all we were worth. It must be said that Ricky and Brennan are quite amazing at times like this. The wind came through, tight and hard. Spinnaker pole forward and down, the mainsail flattened and travelled down. The backstay on hard. Mom and Dad on the rail.

There was talk of having to drop the spinnaker, but that would be an ignominious way to finish, so we fought for control, and got Ciao Bella settled and racing for the finish. The last mile of our crossing was done heeled over hard and flying. There are some great pics of our finish which may be seen at https://plus.google.com/photos/+TrevorWilkins/albums/5973369163797183649.

We crossed the line 22 days, 9 hours, 14 minutes and 57 seconds after the start in Cape Town.

I don’t think it matters how many times you do it. Crossing the finish line after having sailed over an entire ocean is always an emotional and special moment. Plenty of cheers and a few tears at the end of our adventure.

Our thoughts turned to the family and fellow crew members of a man we had not met, who died at the start of the race, and to those who had to retire and see a dream go unfulfilled.

And, just before the Rio party starts, it is time to acknowledge the support that we received from Investec Corporate and Institutional Banking. We have been proud to be associated with them, and the Zebra spinnakers will be seen often (and hopefully long) into the future as a reminder of this association.

And we have also been supported by Xtralink, who generously provided our communication systems, as well as Glider eyewear who gave us all quality polarised sunglasses for the race.

Ray Matthews, the Royal Cape Yacht Club member who managed the race needs a special mention. As a volunteer, covering his own costs, he has made an exceptional effort to ensure the success of this event. Both in Cape Town and here in Rio, him and his wife slaved away, covering every possible base they could. And, let it be said that the organization has been impeccable. Think for a moment of just how difficult managing those first few days must have been.

Trevor Wilkins has been the media man, and, like Ray, has put in a huge amount of effort into making sure that news of the race got into the media. This is a very difficult job when, in the value column of the budget next to “media,” there is no number.

En, so van media gepraat, ons moet nie vergeet van Oom Cobus, wat elke nou en dan met Pa op die radio gesels het. Hy is ‘n goeie vriend.

And, our own little circle of communication support. The Stig (who shall remain faceless as promised) whose job it was to keep the blog updated, and to pass your messages on to us.  Mrs Stiq, now thankfully out of hospital, who kept the Facebook page going through all her difficulties – only reneging on her duties when under anaesthetic, and Uncle Derek, always in our background, and always there to cover for us.

But mostly, we want to thank all of you for your support. Your messages have been inspirational and a whole lot of fun. It was always so good to know that there were so many of you out there rooting for us, keeping an eye on us, and occasionally praying for us...

Thank you all.

Ciao Bella – out.

Day 22 – Rio Round the Corner

I’d like to do a bit of colouring in on the ‘Frank (Frankenbird)’ story from the last post by Ricky.

Brennan’s version: “I was rudely awoken at 3 AM this morning by the sound of a woman screaming. It turned out to be Ryan, and for some reason Kathryn and Michaela (who were on watch with him) were laughing hysterically. Even maniacally. I figured that because they were laughing, it couldn’t be too serious, so I *quietly and politely requested* that they keep it down.”

Ryan’s version: “Ricky made friends with Frank (or Frankie Four-feathers), who seemed to enjoy our company. When I got on watch, there was a silhouette of a winged beast perched on the guy rope. Ricky said it was harmless, but I knew better. It had a beak as long as its head and as sharp as a dagger. I was told not to let the spinnaker flap, so not to scare away the bird, Frank. When the spinnaker next flapped, Frank was shaken from his perch, and instead of fleeing, came swooping back at me – a black shadow descending with talons glimmering in the moonlight.”

Kathryn’s version:  “Ryan ducked under the tiller, screaming. Michaela scrambled to throw him a wide brimmed hat to offer some kind of protection. Once the bird left, it took a bit of convincing to get Ryan to sit back up again and steer the boat. Especially because we couldn’t say two words without laughing. Ryan had Michaela and I keep a lookout behind his back for the rest of the watch.”

Now moving on from that...

Another competing boat, HQ2, caught a 14 kg wahoo (that’s a type of fish) and was looking to arrange some kind of a trade with us for zoo biscuits. What they don’t realise is that in an ocean crossing, zoo biscuits are worth more than diamonds.

On the continental shelf about a day’s sail out of Rio, the oil rigs can be seen. These mammoth installations can be seen from miles away – especially at night when they are lit up like little cities. We caught our first sight of the oil rigs this morning at about 10:00 AM. In the last race we reached this point at night, and to sail past hundreds of these things in the dark is awe-inspiring. During the day they are slightly less spectacular to look at, but one must still marvel at the magnitude of the operations going on here.

Sighting the oil rigs hints that you’re getting close to the finish. We’re about 100 nautical miles from Cabo Frio (which will be our first sighting of land), and then a further 65 nautical miles to the finish. We have a stiff north-easterly at our backs, so it won’t be long now. This is even looking likely to be the penultimate blog post from us during the race. It didn’t seem this close when we drifting like a log yesterday.

There's talk of Team AMTEC Wits snapping doggedly at our heels. Also, if we finish early enough tomorrow morning, we can possibly nip ahead of Privateer for fourth place... So while we’re squeezing every ounce of speed out of Ciao Bella through the night, I don’t think that the Kuttel brothers will be sleeping much...

Brennan

Day 21 - Are we there yet?

Good morning,

This post is a little on the late side. The reason is that we did not have much capacity for writing yesterday, with all non-sleeping hands constantly being sent above decks to try keep the boat moving through what we hope will be the last light patch of the trip (here's hoping some breeze will be snaking its way through those picturesque protrusions that make up the Rio skyline when we arrive).

The most noteworthy of our news is that we had a new crew member for a while last night.  His name was Frank. In retrospect he might not have been the most able crew member because if anyone were to send out the call for "all hands on deck" I know that he would just sit on his perch while flapping his wings ironically at the call.

If we were to use Ryan's categories, you would find that Frank would fall under the species of "sea bird" in the subspecies of "flappy". His name was short for Frankenbird, and we thought he was a parrot at first on his first investigative swoops of the boat. I must admit to being a bit unaccommodating at first, threatening Frank with a winch handle should he even come anywhere near eye-pecking range. After he had made about twenty takes at the boat I thought that he was seriously considering making a landing, and figured that this rapidly oscillating little silhouette might actually be a little bit tired by now.

It was thus that we did not object when he landed on our spinnaker pole, and were actually impressed at his balance, considering the sea state was hardly allowing us to stay well-put on the cockpit seats. He was even undaunted when the spinnaker gave a big shudder that threw him from the pole, opting then to simply perch on a very tight 12mm thick spinnaker guy.

When the time came to brief the next watch coming above deck, Clear instruction was given on how to best handle this slightly freakish looking new addition to our boat. I then went down below and shone a light through a close by hatch on to the visitor. The half-light revealed a darkish bird about the size of a pigeon, with a long, narrow beak. Quite capable of a good peck I thought. So I went and took my four hour sleep in the sound hope that Frank would at some point depart us for the greener pastures of an oil platform.

This morning all was good, the breeze was up again, the boat was moving along superbly and Frank had left.

I am not sure how this all might interest anyone following us, but somehow it was a big event in a tough day that consisted almost entirely of eking out every little inch we could to get closer to the line, to a place called civilisation, where a bird landing close to you is actually not such a big deal!

Thanks again for all the messages, we hope to reward everyone’s great support by scurrying that little tracker on quite a bit quicker over the next couple of days so watch this space - The breeze is on!

Cheers,

Ricky

Bonus Blog: Stolen from the diary of a crew member

THE FOREDECK.

It’s up to 20 knots, raining, and a few drops have run down the spine. Pitch dark, moon behind storm cloud. Feeling thankful that it is passing.

He:     “We had better gybe, or it will get away from us.”

Thinks: “What is so wrong with that?”

Says:   “Fine with me......”

He:     “Shall I call XXX?”

Thinks: “Yes please.”

Says:   “No – I will do it.....”

Remember the routine. It’s all about the routine. Clip on to the safety line on the high side. Collect the shock chord from the stanchion halfway down the hull. Bring it back and hook it on the operating running back stay.

There. That was easy. Back stays are now some-one else’s problem. Didn’t even get my pants wet.

Back down the high side. Hold clip high to stop it rubbing on the deck. It may wake XXX. He would have something to say – for sure. Weight low down. Crouch – don’t crawl.

Unclip the anti-wrap ghost jib from bottom of mast. Slide forward to clip it to the pole down haul.

He:     “Watch out!”

White water over the foredeck as He puts the nose into a wave. Hold on tight as water drenches any dry parts left on the trousers.

He      “Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Clip anti wrap to pole down haul, and slide soggy trousers back to mast step.

Remember the routine.

Clip on to the downhill side. Move down to leeward rail. Reach over the side to try and grab the gybe preventer/tack line.

He:     “Watch out!”

While water over the deck again. Clench.

He:     “Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Gybe preventer in the one hand. Tack line in the other. Undo Tylaska. Clip. Tylaska to guard rail with one hand.  Slide towards boom. Stand using boom for support. Pass gybe preventer behind working sheet, lazy sheet and lazy back stay. Tie gybe preventer to shock chord at goose neck. Sit for a moment at mast step. Double check. Nothing in the way of a gybe. Grab lazy guy from the high side. Stand upright next to mast.

Thinks: “Here we go.”

Says:   (In cool confident tone) “Ready.”

In the office at the back, the tweakers are both at knee height, and the spinnaker load is being carried by the two sheets. Someone starts hauling in the main sail. Someone else releases the operating back stay. Helmsman drives through the gybe. Boom pushes backstay out. New back stay tightened.

He:     “Go!”

Remember the routine.

Wait till old guy goes slack. Unclip pole from mast. Transfer old lazy guy from hand to pole beak. Push pole across and forward. Under the sheet. Clip beak to mast.

Thinks: “Phew!”

Says:   “Made!”

In the office at the back, they start trimming the new guy and the new sheet, and set the pole for the new angle.

Don’t rest on your laurels. Remember the routine. Slide forward on soggy trousers to pole down haul. Unclip wrap preventer. Slide back to mast step and connect to foot of mast. Clip on to the new high side. Grab tack line. Undo Tylaska and feed guy around bow. Clip on to the new downhill side with free hand. Fasten to guard rail. Undo gybe preventer from boom. Gybe preventer in one hand and tack line in the other, undo Tylaska and connect gybe preventer to tack line.

Thinks: “Phew!”

Says:   “Made!”

He:     “Watch out!”

Clench.

He:     “Just kidding..........Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Sit for a moment to let pulse rate settle and establish cool expression on face.

Up the high side into the cockpit

He:     “The squall is getting away from us – we may have to gybe back.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!  !@#$%!  !@#$%! Make up your mind!”

Says:   “Cool. Ready any time you are.......”

Day 20 – The cookie conundrum

As I write this, a ship is disappearing off our starboard bow.  This has created much excitement onboard for Ryan, because he now knows the zombie apocalypse has not yet arrived.  The rest of us see the oil tanker as a sure sign that we are getting close to Rio and the oil rigs.

The cookie conundrum has been solved.  There are still some outstanding issues related to missing Zoo Biscuits but the Oreo case, as Ryan mentioned yesterday, has been closed.  We found some Tennis Biscuits today so there might be a few more cases coming up.  Bren and I have now been banned from unpacking the snacks – not only together, but altogether.  I guess that is just how the cookie crumbles.

One of our followers in the meantime has tried to defend my sister’s cooking skills.  He claims he was invited round for a gourmet dinner last year:  french toast.  She boasted the nutritional balance of carbs, proteins and fats.  Oh, it also included a fried tomato – “the veg”. Ultimately he said it was simple but great.

We have our plans for Rio all sorted out:  when we see the sugar loaf, or the Corcovado, sail towards them until you hit land, then ditch the boat and get a coke.  We plan to buy slip-slops, eat hamburgers and go to Ilha Grande, but only after the coke.

And that’s all from me folks,

Michaela Mae 

PS:  Some people have complained about their blog comments not going through, so feel free to rather email them to teamciaobella@gmail.com.

 

Day 19 – Chasing Clouds

We have begun our descent upon Rio, and have finally found the fairer winds that our faster competitors have had for the majority of the race. A good comparison to this race would be that of flying Nigerian airlines. The baggage allowance is minimal, our take off and ascent were bumpy as hell. Once we reached cruising (or racing) altitude (latitude), things were great. The in-flight entertainment was non-existent but the pilot let you fly the plane occasionally. The meals weren’t that bad, but could occasionally make you sick.

We have no access to news or current affairs here, but we have some of our own. In headlines: The cookie thief has been caught! I don’t think Kathryn properly addressed the crime committed by our fellow crew member. The accused is Brennan Robinson. He has been charged with thievery of the highest order. The evidence against the biscuit embezzler was found last night. In the pocket of his foul weather top was a pack of Oreos, of which our supplies were ransacked! When confronted with the crime, he claimed to be innocent, but the local authorities had taken him in, for they know the severity of snack stealing. We tried to pin Michaela in as his accomplice, but she was far shrewder than her watch-partner. All the snacks that she had embezzled were either eaten or stashed far away. We were however able to fine her with cookie corruption, because of the assisting role that she played. They were both tried accordingly. The judge, jury and prosecutors all consisted of those who were aggrieved by the ransacking of the snack packet. The biscuit embezzlers were found guilty, and sentenced to three days of bilge cleaning.

The birds of South America have been spotted! Many different types of flappy unknown sea-birds were in the sky. You could tell that they were not deep sea birds by the frequency of their wing flaps. (Usually, the further out to see you go, the bird species tend to glide rather than flap). This is a sign that the South American coast is getting closer. Another sign is that the phosphorescence in the water has returned. Their bright glow illuminating from the wake of the boat is even more pronounced given the lack of moonlight from our ever waning moon.

Squall chasing could be the bane of my life. As it was for many a Mohican. For those of you who are confused, squall clouds (big puffy rain clouds) move across the water, and bring a fair amount of wind. The name of the game is to intercept them. But these clouds are malevolent and conniving. Their aim is to leave you in their windless wake. If one latches onto one of these clouds, they are given a huge speed advantage if not... you’re left to bob.

Today was such a day. I won’t go into any detail; let’s just say we were left to sit. There was so little wind that we had to resort to ghosting (dropping the mainsail and sailing under only the spinnaker). Until this point Michaela’s pleas for a swim had fallen upon deaf ears, and it seemed as if today might have been the right time. Finally, she was given permission, but just as she changed into her costume, and came back on deck, the wind picked up and we were off again. Her next swim will have to be at Copacabana.

Here’s to hoping for a smooth landing!

Ryan

Day 18 - Another South Atlantic 'Hi!”

Light wind racing, contrary to what one might think is often far more challenging than heavy wind sailing. It involves full concentration and you need to dig deep to keep the boat moving. It’s essential that you keep your cool, and don’t get frustrated no matter how taxing the conditions become.

Grib files (weather forecasts) for the next three days do not look great. It hasn’t done too much for morale. In the last 24 hours we only managed 135nm. However, to put it in perspective you need only page back in our logbook where you can see that our worst day in the 2011 race was 23nm.

It’s been a relatively sombre day on board. Michaela has taken to making everyone bracelets out of rope. She will strip a piece of rope into strands and then re-plait them into a funky design. Ryan is now a third of the way through ‘long walk to freedom’.

On-board cuisine, like the moon, has begun to wane. The high-point was yesterday when we had pizza (without cheese), and I’m afraid that is as good as it will get. Our remaining food bags include soya mince, spaghetti, tinned tuna and provitas. To make things worse, yesterday saw our peanut butter supplies get depleted. One of our followers sent through some recipes for flying fish: although discarded at first, they might require a revisit.

Besides having only three teabags left, we now have further incentive to hurry onto the land of Samba: there are only two rolls of toilet paper and a box of tissues left. It would also be great to get some laundry that has been washed in fresh water: Our laundry has all been done with salt water, so the sea salt patches that remain after the final rinse gives a somewhat tie-dye effect to all your kit.

There has been another grievance that is being brought to the attention of The Board. The accused is Bren, and the charge is that of smuggling snacks. He was found out when, during a rainsquall, someone threw up his foulie jacket by mistake to Ryan, and when Ryan investigated the sizeable object in the left pocket, found a stash of Oreos. Michaela is being cited as an accomplice.

I thought it would nice to end this post off by giving some perspective on how the whole transatlantic dream came about, and give credit to a man who played a vital part in it all. In the September of 2010, a lazy spring day spent out at the Vaal, it was suggested that we looked into doing the next Rio race. So with three months to go, we set out to find a yacht to charter.

The first person we approached was the owner of a pretty Simonis 35, called Ciao Bella. This man was kind enough to offer us his beautiful boat, with the only requirements being that we bring it back in good condition, with a case of Brazilian beer. And that is how it began…

We have since bought Ciao Bella from Mark Hammick, and while we are sailing this race with her in our name, we will never forget his kind gesture and the role he played in making our dream adventure come true. So, we are nearly there. Just have to negotiate one more light patch and the Rio parking lot, and who knows what the final outcome will be............With sailing, it’s never over until it’s over!

Day 17 - The Censor-ship

 

I have been informed that "dropping a blog" is not an appropriate expression for posting an entry such as this. I tried to push for it, but to no avail. The idea was flushed.

 

I assume that you've all heard about the controversial secrecy bill in South Africa. We are facing a similar plight on board this very yacht. Before any blog entry gets sent through, it has to pass through censorship, where everything deemed inappropriate would be removed - the opening paragraph of this post, for instance.

I'm not going to mention the name(s) of the responsible party, but in protest, this post has sneakily been sent without going through the panel first.

Now that that's out the way, I'd like to address the accusations of me being a night-watch tyrant. I've only ever woken up the next watch early ONCE - with the exception of Ryan, who needs 15 minutes to wake up, get ready, and curse that people don't have a snooze button. Two nights ago I gave Kathryn and Ryan a bonus 20 minutes sleep, and then stayed on an extra 20 minutes to help them get settled. That same night, the following dialogue from the cockpit ensued:

"Time for a sail change. Call Brennan"

"BRENNAN! WAKE UP!"

*Brennan wakes up and starts getting ready*

"No, it's fine, we don't need him. BRENNAN, GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

This happened no less than THREE TIMES on the same night for a sail change, a gybe and a broach.

The breeze eased off a bit this afternoon, but was just at the wrong angle for us to hoist our Code 0 spinnaker - the Norwegian Blue. It's a remarkable bird, Norwegian Blue. Beau'iful plumage! (Monty Python, anyone?)

We cracked open our first bag of Futurelife yesterday. Some people consider this to be a last-resort meal, but we were too stoked for it. Hell, we've been holding our breath for the food bag with the Futurelife in it since day 1! That stuff is what the Spartans ate for breakfast.

We finally changed our clocks to local time! This may seem strange, but dad wanted to keep track of SA time so he didn't miss the early morning radio cross-overs. It's a relief that the sun is no longer setting at 23:00 and rising at 10:00. When the clocks suddenly jumped back by 4 hours, Ricky jokingly complained about getting instantly jet-lagged.

We're hearing stories about other teams being becalmed and going for swims. We have had no such luck. The wind has dropped low enough to go slowly, but never enough to stop. This is a problem for both the racer and the cruiser.

In aid of our bid to be an eco-friendly team, we have been charging our batteries using the solar panels that we got from Cobus van Wyk. These are only effective in the morning, because in the afternoon everything gets shaded by the spinnaker. Having afternoon sun means that you're not heading for Rio.

Other first-world problems that we have to deal with are the fact that we are down to 4 tea-bags, that egg for the last pancakes was off, and the biscuits from Mrs de Carvalho are all but finished. Afternoon tea is now pretty much ruined!

On a lighter note, I'd like to leave you all with a joke. Could someone please see to it that the Wits team gets this, as it applies directly to them?

Why did the Kudu cross the Atlantic?

Because it saw a Zebra crossing!

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaaaaaaa!

Love your Monday.

Brennan

PS. Less than 1000 miles to go!

Day 16 – The Weekend Wrap

The breeze is back. Tallulah was brought out early this morning, and has been hauling Ciao Bella down the waves ever since. Talullah (for those who missed it) comes from the movie Cool Runnings. It was one of the names that Junior suggested they call their new sled. In our case, she is the larger of the two zebra kites and is playing a vital part in stacking up the miles. She is also great in that she installs a sense of discipline. The matriarch zebra is how she is fondly known. Any bad helming that results in her flapping or collapsing will see her give you the same look that your mother did the first time you scratched her car: I love you, but I’m deeply disappointed.

Thank you for all the emails, especially the updates into the world of equities. Particular thanks to the gentleman that offered to send through details for a trading update conference call. I regretfully have to decline as our Iridium 9555 has no mute button, and the sound of waves in the background could cause disturbance for others on the call. The depreciation in the currency is not great news. I have been waiting three years to refurbish my collection of Havaianas and a blown out rand may deem problematic.

Otherwise, all in all, things are going well. All is well with the A team. Michaela Mae is growing braver with every day that passes, and is now a formidable foredeck. Ryan has lost his Speedo, as we have offered a reward in zoo biscuits. Onboard education is thriving. This is the second week Ryan and Michaela are missing school, and thus it has been important to supplement accordingly. We have a geography / chart work lesson that takes place at around 4pm every day, and Afrikaans has been taken care of with dad’s RSG interview. The chart work also includes some vector diagrams, so that ticks off science, and the occasional blog entry counts as English creative writing. Nutritional discussions around food groups covers Biology and the stock take of Liquifruit and zoo-biscuits must be the best form of hands-on accounting practical experience.

There are a couple of things we left behind this trip – fishing tackle being a prime example. This has, however, spared us the perpetual disappointment of always looking back at empty lines like in the last race. Another thing that we definitely do not regret leaving behind is the chessboard. There is a large amount of humiliation that comes with being beaten by a 17 year-old at chess. But then perhaps it was worth it as playing chess requires silence - a true delicacy when it comes to living with an adolescent.

One of the largest challenges of doing an ocean crossing has to deal with the broken sleep patterns; with the maximum amount of sleep you get is 4 hours at any point in time. This has led us to relearn the art of a mid-afternoon powernap: something that is far better practiced amongst the students on board. We are now also substantially west. This means that a 7am interview on RSG your time, is a 3am call this side. If I consider how much sugar and caffeine it takes me to function in English at that time of the morning, I’m not sure how dad manages to function in ordentlike Afrikaans like he does.

Can someone please let Janine Howard Harris know that her rice cooker works like a bomb (it makes for a great pillow too). And to Liane Tiley, the food packs you did for us have been a treat. We are sure the risotto is great, but we are in a bit of a pickle as the instructions are in Italian.

Wishing you all a happy Monday,

Kathryn

Day 15 – High-tailing it from the High!

Good day folks,

I will try refrain from too much humour because all attempts I have made at it so far this trip have sent the crew rushing for the anti-nausea medication, (which is already quite depleted after the first few days). I do take fair delight from jokes that are so cheesy that the listeners are left quite annoyed at me for even speaking. But I will try sparing you unnecessary anguish by only talking about a real event that happened late last night...

I must first shed light on the latest advancement in the complex social structure aboard, which saw Ryan appointed as the head of the crew members union. This is because he is the most vocal about his grievances, for example, being woken up for a shift a few minutes early. Dad and I had occasion to raise an issue with Ryan after we felt we were treated rather unfairly by another crew member. It unfolded as follows:

Dad and I were woken up a whole fifteen minutes before our watch started, which is acceptable practice if there is a gybe or sail change, so we both diligently rose, donned our harnesses and took our places in the cockpit. It was at this point that Brennan (the offending crew member) pointed out that he had thought he had wanted to gybe but had changed his mind as our angle had improved with the approach of a very dark rain cloud. This same rain cloud sent Brennan swiftly to his bed before the end of his shift, with his last words to us being: you guys might need some jackets.

In summary: Brennan had woke us up early for no good reason and positioned the boat in the direct path of a rain cloud after enjoying all the breeze that preceded it for himself. There was insufficient time for us to sail out from under the cloud to avoid either the rain or the tedium of windless bobbing that followed it.  Dad and I thought the idea of Brennan having his blanket around his ears while we sat in his rain squall quite amusing, but I think there should still be some ruling on the matter. Are there any suggestions?

We had been instructed from early on to use a sanitiser spray when using the heads. As the breeze gets lighter we have to leave the comfort of the quarter berths  and start using the bunks amidships and in the bow (all of which are treacherously close to the heads) This close-quarters arrangement has led me to believe that the value of the sanitiser spray is more for sanity than it is for sanitation. I personally find the shining hour remarkably more bearable when spent abaft of the push pit!

Returning to matters of consequence, we have had a very tough time getting past all the light patches, with very confused waves making even 5 knots quite un-sailable. We are working very hard to get away from this light wind zone as quickly as possible. It is getting very hot now and sailing at night starts to become quite a lot easier than during the day.  The forecast did not even shed much better news, which Brennan announced to the crew with the words: “Hey guys, at least we get two more days in the trade winds!” That is fair to say but personally I am getting to the point where I wouldn’t say no to an ice lolly or twenty! We will just have to sail faster I guess...

In closing the crew would just like to give a shout out to our youngest follower, Benjamin, who is not 2 months old yet! Thanks Benjamin and hope to see you on the water soon!

Yours in Happy Sailing,

Ricky