Wednesday 11 November 2009

Hi Folks,

It is me again but you can breathe a sigh of relief as this will be my last blog and I will soon leave you to get back to the tranquillity of your normal life.  Thanks for not pressing the Escape Key during the past 5 weeks even though it might, from time to time, have been very tempting – knowing that you were able to follow our adventure, and were doing so, has meant an awful lot to us and we are very grateful for the time you have devoted to it.  It brought you nearer in spirit and there were times when that was very important to each of us.

Whatever you have heard about Australia is true: the Aussies themselves are wonderfully laid back and welcoming and have shown great interest in our trip from Cape Town; the weather is fabulous with hot sunshine and blue skies and temperatures well into the 30s; and the flies are a bloody nuisance.  Mind you, the locals disown the flies and are keen to point out that they neither originate nor belong here and merely drift in when the wind blows from the interior – the afternoon sea breeze tends to support their view because the flies all disappear in the early afternoon when the wind picks up.  Finally, being an Englishman, I struggle with the incongruity of mid-30s temperatures and the Christmas decorations which now discretely festoon the Fremantle Sailing Club.

Going back to where I left you (leave the Escape Key alone for just a little longer...please).  We enjoyed a simply terrific final morning as we ran down the closing 70 or so miles to our destination.  Disco was flying, so much so that Red needed to reef the mainsail to keep us within the limits of the rig.  The Skipper was commanding from the main hatch, Buzz was helming and Sally and Mike were on the foredeck and getting exceptionally wet.  They had taken over the watch at 0400 when the wind was mild-mannered enough not to need a reef and because it was already feeling warmer in the cockpit neither were wearing their oilies.  Thus they looked a sorry state when I peered out, but in truth they were anything but sorry and were simply awaiting the opportunity to get their own back on Buzz, which Sally did a little while later when the headsail needed changing.  As the morning wore on the wind continued to build but held in a direction that enabled Disco to hurtle forward beneath a fabulously clear blue sky. 

Rottnest Island eventually hove into view and we began to see the distant skyline of Perth and the reef that guards the entrance to Fremantle – the excitement aboard was electric.  Buzz came up to the cockpit and, with Neil on the helm having as much fun as he could whilst keeping his clothes on, directed our path towards the marina and our final destination.  We crossed the finish line to the south of Rottnest a few minutes after midday and the Skipper brought Disco to a perfect stop for the first time 32 days alongside the Customs berth in Success Marina at 1430.  As expected, Adventure was there ahead of us and Challenger arrived about an hour later.  We were met almost immediately by the local Customs, Immigration and Environment inspectors, as well as the people from the Fremantle Sailing Club, who were the first people (beyond our crew) we had spoken to for over a month.  Once the inspection formalities were complete there was a spontaneous outbreak of group hugs and handshakes with the crews of the other boats simple because it was so good to see them safe and well.  It was a truly magic moment and I suspect it will be a long time, if ever, before I experience it again.  The rest of Monday disappeared in a haze of securing Disco, rigging her for a couple of weeks alongside, a quiet beer in the cockpit, a real shower where nobody cared a jot how much water was used, flushing toilets and that ‘soft, strong and absorbent’ moment, and of course those all-important phone calls home many of which caught you at a busy time of day, the others having arrived while you were still sleeping.  In the evening we met with the crews of the other boats for another beer before setting off to Fremantle for a bite to eat.  We were all swaying, and not just from the boats’ motion, and all were tired so it was not a particularly late night.  Having said that, some of us struggled to get back into the sailing club because they lock the gates and turn off the lights at a very early hour here.  A few of us found people with electronic keys who were able to let us in whereas others did not and were forced to resort to other, less conventional, methods of entry.

Tuesday was dhobi day in every sense of the word.  We all packed off our exceptionally smelly clothing to the local laundrette for a service wash and set about cleaning Disco with a vengeance.  When we first looked around a Challenge 67 in Gosport on 1 October it seemed to be an awfully big boat, but by week 2 or 3 of the trip Disco had shrunk to quite normal and manageable proportions, or so we thought.  Now however, she assumed the size of a supertanker as we went through every nook and cranny to clean, disinfect, bleach and dry her.  And the accumulation of human detritus from 14 people over nearly 5 weeks is simply staggering – if you bothered to collect all the hair alone you could knit yourself a new pair of very fluffy socks.  All the sails needed to come out, be unpacked, inspected and re-packed in the time-honoured sailor’s fashion of flaking, and every pot and pan in the galley needed to gleam as never before.

By 1700 we were done, all bar a few minor matters that could be dealt with before we set off to the airport on Saturday.  The Skipper assembled the crew on deck for tea and cakes and then disappeared below because a VIP was due to visit in the next few minutes.  Vice-Air Marshal (I know, but it is how he likes to be known) Algernon Biggles-Smythe (with an E) appeared in the hatchway looking remarkably similar to our Skipper and awarded purple hearts (cut from our plastic eating bowls) to Paddy and Adam in recognition of their injuries sustained en route from Cape Town to Fremantle.  He then awarded medals to all members of Disco’s crew stating that the RAF always conclude an event with tea and medals (the Skipper is ex-Army).  Biggles-Smythe – or BS for short, but there has been rather a lot of it over recent weeks – was dressed with a stick-on ‘Future Pilot’ badge on his Tilley hat wearing an extraordinary handlebar moustache fashioned from mousing wire and spinnaker wool.  We enjoyed the moment and if I am permitted to add just one serious comment, the Skipper had obviously been thinking of the stunt for a while and it meant a lot to us all.

We are now into furious wind-down.  Sally has gone to Brisbane to spend a couple of days with rellies (as they say in these parts), and Tim, Buzz and Hayley have gone ashore for a couple of days to enjoy the relative comfort of the Australian barracks a few miles from here.  The rest of us are either helping the Skipper with the outstanding jobs (I was up the mast this afternoon replacing the radar reflector – it was too sporty to try it at sea) or are sight-seeing and shopping.  Many of the beards have now either been trimmed or have gone completely, and many of the shaggy heads are now shaven again (no, not mine silly).

Nearly there then you can put the kettle on.  I have thanked you once but will do so again to emphasise just how important your support has been.  It is a great pity that we have not been able to read the comments you have added to the website but we all look forward to doing so in the days ahead.  Thanks for reading this and thanks for your comments (which I hope are not too critical).

I must add my personal thanks to the other 13 members of Disco’s fabulous crew for putting up with the grouchy old guy who simply drove the chart table, messed up the sail trim, typed nonsense or quoted Milligan poetry across the wastes of the mighty Southern Ocean.  If I can ever be of service to you, you only need to let me know.

A huge debt of gratitude is owed to Neil Cottrell and the Transglobe staff for their diligent work setting up the exercise and ironing out the problems before they occur, as well as the Royal Cape Yacht Club and the Fremantle Sailing Club who have welcomed and hosted us with exceptional generosity. 

Finally, Andy Fernie, the Skipper.  I have taken the mickey without mercy, some contrived and some true, for several weeks but I do not apologise because I know (I hope) you have enjoyed it.  I have learned a lot from you (that is, in addition to the endless list of jokes), for which I am extremely grateful, but most importantly thank you for your sage guidance and for giving the Mates their head and being ready to step in when things got a bit sporty, which they did from time to time.  If you ever need anyone to pull ropes for you, please gimme a shout. 

And Christine, thanks for letting Andy come out to play.        

The final word: does anyone out there need a new pair of freshly-knitted very fluffy socks, potentially an ideal Christmas present for a loved one?

Stay safe and we will see you soon.

Dusty

Saturday 7 November 2009

Hi Folks,

It is half-past-midnight here, mid-Friday afternoon where you are, although by the time this is posted it will be Monday everywhere and we might well be alongside in Fremantle.  We can only hope.

Right now Disco is rolling through the Indian Ocean (we left the Southern Ocean a little while ago) with a pleasingly brisk tailwind which might just blow us all the way to the finish line in a little over 2 days time.  We have just over 400 miles still to run and are making around 7 knots under a full main and poled-out No 2 Yankee up front.  I have just taken over the watch from the 1^st Mate, Blue are in the cockpit, and with Fireworks Night safely in the rear view mirror, the Skipper is in bed with both eyes closed.

Shortly after first light this morning I was awoken by the clink of the metal fittings at the end of the spinnaker guys as they were being carried up to the deck.  Unwilling to miss the action I arose, took a quick shower and shave, and joined the deck watch just in time for the spinnaker to blossom in all its splendour at the head of Disco’s mast.  With the engine shut down for the first time in 24 hours, serenity was re-established, apart of course from the Skipper instructing the helm how to keep the spinnaker flying.  It was a genuinely uplifting experience – it looked mightily pretty, we were going faster than we had in the previous 24 hours, it was quiet and, most importantly, we were moving for free and not consuming precious diesel.  A few hours like this and we would have enough fuel to guarantee not needing a tow to our eventual berth in Fremantle.  Alas, all good things come to an end and the Skipper decided to douse the spinnaker after a little over an hour in order to repair a small tear in the fabric.  Having done so, the wind came up so we hoisted the No 2 Yankee and poled it out and have stayed that way since.

During the day a fleeting almost-contact with other humankind occurred when a vessel ghosted into view on the Automatic Identification System screen and a little while later disappeared again.  It was some 22 miles to the south of us, well below the horizon and not actually visible, but it was the first almost-contact in several weeks – we are hopeful that we will actually see something/somebody soon.

Having proclaimed in a recent blog that we had grub-a-plenty aboard Disco, I now have cause to eat my words (and wish my words were chocolate flavoured, very slightly chewy, perhaps with a hint of vanilla ice cream, finished with a mature stilton and a glass of port).  Incredibly, we appear to have eaten our way through the monster amount of shopping Neil masterminded in Cape Town and we are now living on some pretty suspicious-looking meatballs, corned meat (yuk) and frankfurters.

Which leads me nicely onto chocolate envy.  Part of Neil’s shoppex was to buy a sack full of chocolate bars, or ‘nutty’ as nautical types term them, as a treat for the night watches.  The bottom of the sack eventually hove into view so a few days ago Neil handed out the final nutty ration of 6 bars per person.  Some ate theirs in seconds, others took a little longer, and a tiny minority still have some or all of theirs intact, and I will leave you to imagine the degree of envy between the haves and have-nots.  Gemma, a self-confessed chocoholic, has nonetheless been saving her final Crunchie bar in the fridge in the galley.  She was brought close to tears yesterday morning when on opening the fridge she found in the place of her highly-valued Crunchie bar a little handwritten note........... ‘Yum-yum, burp, thanks, Crevice’.     

The beard-growing competition is approaching judgement day although the task of deciding the winner has been reduced by a number of us withdrawing.  The final contenders are likely to be Paddy, Adam, Tim, Paul, Buzz and Al but the hot tip for placing your money must be either Paddy or Adam.

More later when the sun is up.

Sunday 8 November 2009

Hi, I am back and the sun has been up and down and up again (in other words, it is now Sunday),

Simply put, yesterday was brilliant.  We broke out the heavy-duty spinnaker at 1000 in the morning and eventually doused it just after dark.  Disco spent the day surging along, mostly pointing towards Fremantle, and once we managed to prise the Skipper off the helm we all enjoyed driving her in ‘racehorse mode’.  The weather was suitably kind and we cruised under partial cloud cover mixed with blue sky and sunshine.  The evening and night were just as impressive with a heaven full of stars initially then a very bright moon to finish the night.  When the heavy duty spinnaker was taken down Blue Watch found a number of squid and one flying fish on the deck but again we were too busy to get them safely into the cooking pot – Hayley, our champion of flying wildlife, was protecting the flying fish in any case.  A surprising lapse in hunter-gatherer spirit especially as we have officially run out of just about everything edible on board, apart from those ghastly ruddy meatballs.

Just after 1700 yesterday we received a call on the VHF radio from Challenger telling us she had just sighted us and was on our port quarter.  We all scrambled into the cockpit and sure enough, there she was.  All we could see was the top ¾ of her mast and the radar told us she was some 7 miles away but she was the first contact with other humans for several weeks.  The excitement aboard was tremendous, as was the excitement in the voices between the respective Skippers on the radio.  Later, all we could see of her was her masthead light dipping above and below the horizon.

At first light this morning, Sunday, we flew the light weight spinnaker in an attempt to squeeze some more speed out of a pretty light and fluky breeze.  It worked for a couple of hours but then as the wind continued to drop the risk of wrapping the spinnaker around the forestay overrode the need for quiet speed so we doused it leaving Disco to run beneath a full main and No 1 Yankee up front, although most of the drive is now coming from the engine.

At the morning HF call the Skippers agreed that we each appear to have enough fuel to make a run for it and we are now some 200 miles off Fremantle pointing directly at our destination.  We will not arrive today but there is a very good chance that we will be alongside before the pubs close and before it rains tomorrow.  If that is the case, you might already have received a text message or phone call from your loved one telling you that he or she is safe and well, albeit on the less fragrant side of smelly and suffering from coffee, sugar, chocolate, most others foodstuffs, deprivation.

Unless anything dramatic happens in the meantime, I will catch you later.

Monday 9 November 2009

Hi Folks,

It is Monday morning, the sun is shining brightly, Disco is sailing at 9 knots under a full main, No 1 Yankee and Staysail, Challenger is off our port quarter (as she has been for the last day or so, and the cupboards are bare (no exaggeration) so it is by immense good fortune not to mention a miracle of modern navigation that Australia is in sight just some 20 miles ahead of us.  I say Australia but it is really just a small part of it, a tower that stands 80 meters high, that is visible – the tower is the northern limit of the finish line.  I anticipate that Adventure crossed the line an hour or so ago and we expect to do so by 1200 local with Challenger slightly behind us.  Then...............well, there is still the small matter of about 10 miles of pilotage to the berth, customs and immigration, and maybe, just maybe, a small and very refreshing beer.  It will have to be small or 5 weeks without alcohol and a sudden cessation of boat motion will have us all flat on our backs in no time.  We will, in our own ways, acclimatise slowly...........and I know you know how that will be.

Buzz, the leader of Red Watch, has been afforded the honour by the Skipper of piloting Disco to her berth and is presently in his bunk, having been on watch since 0400, summoning the energy to do so.  The warps and fenders are now ready awaiting his command. 

With that in mind, I am now off to enjoy the morning.  If we have not already done so, we will be in contact soon.  Lots of love from us all.      

Tuesday 3 November 2009

Hi Folks,

To be honest, I am not sure which is worst, the hammering violence of a Force 10 storm or the stultifying tedium of flat seas and a mere zephyr of wind which teases you into thinking you might be able to sail, but cannot.  Either way, they test the resilience and tenacity of the crew and I guess are the opposite extremes of adventurous training, each calling upon inner reserves of character than we maybe did not realise we possessed.  A bit deep?  Yep, but that is what you get from a demented blog-writer at 0200 in the morning when the engine has been clattering away for the past 17 hours and we are on the second sitting of the Skipper’s jokes with a grumpy 2^nd Mate (it’s his age) as dessert.

Fremantle is now some 950 miles ahead of us and we are slowly clawing our way round the top left hand corner of a high pressure zone that has stubbornly blocked our path for the past 3 days.  The wind should (I emphasise the word ‘should’ because the wind appears to be unaware of the brief and is not behaving very well) set as an easterly and increase up to 20 knots, but so far it has shown little or no inclination to do so.  In parallel with the weather we download from a US website, we are now also receiving fax, satcom and voice forecasts from the Australian Government Bureau of Meteorology, National Meteorological and Oceanographic Centre – a long and illustrious title meaning the Met Office.  Happily, or unhappily, they seem to agree with each other that the next couple of hundred miles are going to be hard work.

The high points of today include the Skipper fixing the freshwater pressure accumulator, and the item subsequently knowing its place and staying fixed, for the time being at least.  Worryingly, during the process the 1^st Mate dropped a knife into the bilges and we are now concerned that Crevice is armed as well as being cunningly devious so we had better not relax our guard over the last few days of the trip.

Blue have been Mother and have embarked upon a novel approach to culinary art which combines the strengths of various forms of national cuisine into something you can get out of the variety of tins found beneath Disco’s seats and flooring.  Tonight we were treated to Indo-Italiano curried sausages with spaghetti, served with a fine and carefully matured fruit juice, followed by apple choco-crumble, the unique texture and flavour of which were derived by Adam bunging copious amounts of cocoa powder into Hayley’s crumble mix. 

Unsurprisingly, the wildlife are now giving us a very wide berth and apart from one albatross, a distant whale and one sooty pigeon, nothing has been near us all day.  The sooty pigeon even had the temerity to land alongside Disco, take off again at twice our speed, and give us one of those looks normally reserved for burning off a Skoda at traffic lights.  It was quite hurtful to observe! 

Later on Tuesday 3 November 2009

The day started as I indicated earlier with light airs defying our every attempt to sail but by early afternoon (after a number of very professional sail changes) we were able to kill the engine and have sailed serenely since.  The wind has steadied as an easterly of around 15 knots and under a full main, No 1 Yankee and Staysail Disco is making around 7 knots over the ground roughly in the direction of Fremantle.

During the idle and somewhat listless hours of the morning it occurred to us that Fireworks Night is just 2 days away so we approached the Skipper for permission to build a small bonfire on the foredeck and fire off all the emergency flares as surrogate fireworks on Thursday evening.  Surprisingly for such a laid-back chap he declined our, we think, most reasonable request citing the burden of paperwork should such an event occur.  The ‘Penny for the Guy’ campaign has yet to get underway because the Skipper sleeps with one eye open.........I will leave you to fill in the blanks.

Apart from the normal squadron of sooty pigeons waiting for Owen to drop his guard we were visited by a seal today.  I use the term visited loosely because it glided down our port side not 20 feet from Disco’s hull displaying nothing more than its bottom and hind flippers – Southern Ocean seal mooning, a first perhaps?

Food is now occupying a disproportionate amount of our thinking time.  To my horror we found the bottom of the coffee tin 2 days ago but the Skipper, being endlessly generous, gave me a box of coffee bags for my Birthday.  We appear to have cornered the market in tea bags though, so much so that we have enough to quilt our own life raft should the need arise – a double bonus would be that it would act as a sea dye marker should it ever get wet.  Quizzing the 1^st Mate over what provision had been made should we actually run out of food and he informed me that we have quantities of compo rations on board in addition to the emergency rations reserved for real emergencies like abandoning ship. When I expressed a modest degree of delight because I love the compo puddings he informed me that the puddings were considered surplus to requirement and left behind.  Left behind in a bunch of sea cadets it turns out!  I bitterly regret having to confess to a full-on Victor Meldrew moment........or 2.

Dinner this evening was fresh Scottish salmon fishcakes with minted new potatoes and petit pois – well, the substitute form, meatballs in dubious gravy with suspicious-looking noodles followed by an ‘amuse bouche’ sweet which just managed to take away the taste of the meatballs.

As I sign off for the night Disco is pounding away through the waves and Australia is just 850 miles ahead of the pointy end.  White are on watch in the cockpit, Red are doing the washing up, and Blue are in repose awaiting their turn at the helm at midnight.  The Skipper?  In his bunk with one eye wide open.

G’night.   

Wednesday 4 November 2009

Hi Folks,

My early morning slumber deep within the warmth of my Febreeze-freshened sleeping bag was penetrated by the mouth-watering and sense-teasing waft of bacon frying in the galley.  Real bacon and really frying – no substitutes here – and we were treated to a breakfast of freshly baked bacon butties, fit for Kings.  Buzz, Sally and Mike had done it again and we all happily agreed that their destiny beyond Transglobe was to open a roadside snack bar serving bacon butties and cups of tea.  Clearly, their caravan would have to be bricked up to a 30-degree angle and would need to be visited by a wandering band of hooligans every few minutes to give it a good shake in order to replicate the conditions under which they work to their best.  A tip-top breakfast plus a night of substantial progress towards Australia has placed Disco’s crew in fine spirits despite the rain and rather bumpy ride this morning.

During the night, an Owen bird (named due to its likeness to Owen – that is to say, pale and apparently undernourished [or scrawny]) landed in the cockpit at the feet of the helmsman and scuttled away beneath the helmsman’s seat.  Gemma’s initial reaction was to wonder aloud how much meat there might be on the bird, which remains under the seat and is now known as Speckled Jim.  Hayley has taken it upon herself to represent the RSPB and looks crossly at anyone licking their lips and wandering nonchalantly towards the back of the cockpit with a sharp knife and a cooking pot.

Thursday 5 November 2009

It is now 0300 on Thursday morning and Speckled Jim, seizing the opportunity of the hungriest-looking crew being abed, has departed Disco’s cockpit.  He took the care to inspect the Watch before leaving then did so without so much as a by-your-leave or excuse me.  The Skipper, deprived of a potential Melchett-moment, is nonetheless pleased not to be responsible for yet another recalcitrant flyer on board.     

Looking back, Wednesday carried us closer to Australia – now 700 miles ahead – but we were reaching more towards North than East in order to keep with the wind, and the day was gloomy and dank with persistent low cloud and drizzle.  A centre of low pressure hung to the North of us blocking our direct path to Fremantle.   In the late evening, as the low moved South, the wind dropped and we have been motoring for a few hours and burning precious diesel.  If the wind follows the brief, it will fill in behind us tomorrow and should give us a good run for a couple of days.  The Skipper is itching to get the spinnaker out but it remains to be seen if that is ever going to be a practical proposition.

Earlier I mentioned arriving in Fremantle over the weekend – I now think we will be later but I am not certain by how much.  Please take it from me that your loved ones are safe and happy but looking forward to dry land/cold beer/shower/hair wash/shave/clean clothes/huge helpings of food/many other unmentionable things, and they will contact you just as soon as they are able.  I too will keep tapping out my version of our story until we are alongside at least, so keep your finger hovering over the Escape Key.

Stay safe, lots of love from us all.

Shout Outs

Sally – Hi to everyone and love to all.  Not many days to go now, we hope to be in on the 8^th the 9^th at the latest.  A couple of days RnR and then clean the boat and home.  Si and Neil hope you enjoy the concert – hope you got all your jobs done and the wallpapering hasn’t been too arduous!!  It won’t be long now until I’m home and in need of some serious sleep and rest my aching bones. Si love and miss you loads xxxxx

Neil – Becca hope you’re happy with your first placement, I’m looking forward to catching up with your news when we get to Fremantle.  I’m missing you all very much, all my love Chris, Mike, Becca, Laura and all the Cottrell/May clan.

Wednesday 28 October 2009

Hi Folks,

It occurs to me that I have been prattling on about Red, White and Blue Watches, and Mother Watch, without telling you what it all really means to us aboard Disco.  You may feel that you are able to complete your serene passage through life without being disturbed by the knowledge of such things, but to really understand the nature of human endeavour aboard our 50 ton (and extremely elegant and well-appointed) life raft, you deserve the opportunity to inwardly digest or, should you so desire, press the Escape Key.

The crew of 14 are sub-divided into 3 watches, minus the Skipper and 2 Mates who operate their own watch system or duty roster.  The 11 crew are Buzz, Sally and Mike (Red Watch), Paul, Hayley, Adam and Tim (Blue Watch), and Al, Owen, Paddy and Gemma (White Watch).  Each of the 3 watches has a leader: Buzz, Paul and Al respectively.  Each day, one of the 3 watches is nominated in rotation as Mother Watch and they do all the cooking and cleaning, including the heads, for the entire crew for a 24-hour period from 1030 (yacht time) in the morning.  The other 2 watches rotate on a 4-hourly basis in the cockpit and drive the yacht.  As the word implies, on ‘watch’ means that they helm and lookout for anything of interest or that might endanger the boat, and execute sail changes as decided by the Skipper or the Mates.  Because of the scale of Disco and the effort required, many sail changes occur at watch changeover when 2 watches are available.  The duty Watch also keeps the hourly log up to date (a legal record of what we are doing) and pumps the bilges.  The daily routine of watch changes is 0800, 1200, 1600, 1800, 2000, 0000, 0400 so you will see that your loved ones are only ever likely to catch something less than 4 hours sleep at any one time, unless they are on Mother when they are able to take a full night in their bunk as well as have a shower if there is sufficient water to do so.  You might have noticed that the watches are at 2-hourly intervals between 1600 and 2000 which enables a slight shift in synchronisation.  Also, whenever we move the clocks forward, we complete a watch change at 2330 and simultaneously wind our clocks forward by one hour – in that way, everyone gets to benefit from a shorter watch (except Mother).

So just what does the Skipper and his Mates do?  Good question, and I will quickly fill in the blanks before the crew do so in my place.  The 1^st Mate and I work a rolling 8-hour watch timed to coincide with the major meal times at 1200 and 2000 (and, of course, 0400).  On watch, we generally drive the chart table and monitor the communications suite, decide changes to the sail plan in order to meet the Skipper’s intent for the period and, if so inclined, spend a little time in the cockpit with the duty watch either helping with sail changes or simply enjoying driving the yacht.  In my case, I repeatedly make the mistake of going on deck wearing insufficient waterproofs and spend the rest of my duty time drying out wishing that I would sharpen up (the 1^st Mate is a lot smarter than me and always wears his wetties).  Off duty we tend to a host of little things including personal admin, dhobi, mending things, and trying to catch a few zeds.  The 1^st Mate is also the ship’s doctor and much of his down-time has already been used tending to the injuries I have previously mentioned as well as a host of minor ailments (but not quite Dr Ruth!).

That just leaves the Skipper.  Without being flippant, the Skipper guides and directs everything, and carries the responsibility for everything, but does so in such a manner as to ensure that he is perpetually available and sufficiently rested to take active command over an extended period should an emergency or any other need arise.  He knows Disco inside out and knows how to sail her in all circumstances, which makes him unique in our crew.  By comparison, the rest of us are amateurs, albeit exceptionally keen and highly motivated amateurs.

In a nut shell, that is how it works.  It is presently 2130, Red Watch are Mother and unsurprisingly served up another fabulous meal this evening; they have just finished the washing up and are relaxing before turning in for the night.  White are in the cockpit helming downwind in the moonlight beneath a mainsail with one reef and a poled-out No 2 Yankee up front.  Blue are abed and will take over from White at 2330......we change the clocks again tonight.  I will hand over to Neil at 0400 (0430 to give him half the hour saved) and get tomorrow’s weather from a US website before I hit the sack.  The Skipper, I know, is in his bunk monitoring every creak and groan of the rig and every footfall on the deck, and trying to get some rest.

I hope this has helped your understanding of the hamster-wheel life aboard Disco.  Boring?  No.  Repetitive?  Undoubtedly.  But ‘exciting’ in the Southern Ocean is something we assiduously strive to avoid.

Today was a glorious waft downwind, but as the seas flattened the wind also faded away so we progressively increased sail to keep moving.  Helming tonight in a rolling sea and light winds is not easy and White are making a good job of it.  If the wind continues to fade we will shake out the final reef.  Last night the light in the compass failed and Paddy ended up taping a torch to the binnacle to illuminate the compass.  During today Tim earned himself a Skipper’s Mention in Dispatches by pulling the binnacle apart and rewiring the lighting system – for this type of sailing the crew’s skills other than pure sailing ability are highly valued.

Disco is now dark and quiet save the infamous gurgle of water so I will close and attend to driving the chart table towards Australia (well, someone has got to do it).  I will add a line or 2 in the morning before I send this to Gosport and then go to bed.

Night-night.

Hmm.  Slightly before intended, I am back.  The night was punctuated by an enormous twang followed by the sound of something metallic landing on the deck.  Al rapidly indentified that the canvas strop at the end of the pole had broken leaving the guy to spring back under its own tension and fall to the deck – the pole was no longer restrained and under the pressure of the headsail started to wag around.  Like a coiled spring uncoiling mighty quickly the Skipper was on deck and in command and a few sharp instructions later the pole was put to bed and tranquillity reigned again aboard Disco.  I, as you might have guessed, was in my Sunday trousers which again are soaking wet – will I ever learn?

I shall bid you good-night once again.         

Shout outs:

Neil – Happy birthday Laura for Sunday, love to all at home.  Not long now until we get to Fremantle and phone calls, then back home.  I’m missing you all each day.  To Andy, Clive living the dream, but need update on finances soonest (email or SATC).  To all at JSASTC thank you for the making TRANSGLOBE possible, your work to get us here and continued support has been, and remains, outstanding.   

Dusty – Hope the holiday was fun.  Love and e-hugs to Lesley, Katie, AJ, Ali & Danny.  xxx