Saturday 29th January 2005

Finally... at 1245 on Friday 28th January, fewer days behind schedule than looked probable at one time, SY AquaLung slipped gently out of Las Palmas, Canary Islands headed for Antigua.

The last hold up - for a few hours only - was waiting for the wind to drop enough to make the exit from the berth dignified rather than destructive. We had finally, with the exceptional assistance of Aixtiber Ramon Armas of Nautical SL, who worked late into the night and early in the morning, managed to get a working access to the internet and thereby to email. Without which, I was going to be a lonely soul for a few weeks.

To the blast of a foghorn from Karen, accompanied by my colleague Alex Lees-Buckey from CNI Monaco, who had spent two days in Las Palmas, providing invaluable assistance and support, and had nobly postponed his return flight twice in order to remain until the off, I headed out to sea. Sadly my parents and mother-in-law had had to leave a couple of hours earlier to catch their flight.

One mile out, the seas were looking huge. I had to alter course to avoid an inbound commercial vessel, a manoeuvre which produced an immediate phone call from the shore party enquiring whether I had changed my mind and decided to go back to Portugal instead.

The wind and seas increased during the afternoon and evening until I had to take in a reef, which remained there until the morning. 

Headed South to clear the Islands and as the wind shifted, I was able to head off more South West this morning. A school of dolphins played alongside for twenty minutes - magnificent synchronised swimming. During the day the wind has been dropping but we're still managing six knots - light relief after surfing at just short of ten knots on occasions during the night.

Position at 1745 London time Saturday is 25 degrees 36 minutes North. 17 degrees 05 minutes West.

Not much other traffic around today apart from a fishing vessel which made no impression on my radar, a yacht headed probably for the Cape Verde Islands and a large tanker going the other way.

Monday 31st January 2005

22 degrees 14 minutes North, 20 degrees 36 minutes West. Just over 500 miles down, just over 2,350 to go.

Certainly the first few days - and especially the first few hours were an emotional rollercoaster, now settling down at last. Excitement at actually getting away was tempered by the pain of the farewell and trepidation at what lay ahead. This was proved justified almost immediately, as I hit unexpectedly large seas and a strengthening wind. Not a particularly comfortable first night, but it has made the next couple of days seem less daunting.

Overall, now that I am well into the expedition, the feelings are a combination of elation and relief that after all the planning, it is actually happening. A sense of awe at the surroundings is also inevitable - there's nothing there except sky and sea - a quick calculation suggests that I can see over one hundred square miles of water around me and there is nobody else here. 

There was a small drama this morning (Monday) as I managed to wrap the Yankee round the forestay fairly comprehensively. This took a little time to resolve itself - so breakfast was delayed. 

Otherwise, I have polished some stainless steel, finished my second book and read emails. I am now heading more West than before, having put in plenty of South early on, so it will look more like I am going in the right direction now.

The only casualty so far was on the first night. Putting away my smart new Leatherman knife after its first use, I was taking great care not to cut myself. Not enough care, it would seem. Had to break into the First Aid Kit for a plaster. Thank you Ocean Safety for the medical kit - guess you won't want it back now it has been opened...

Beethoven is on full blast and the sun is heading down. It's evening again - not my favourite time on board. Morning is best and the night is not too bad, but somehow the evening is a little daunting. 

Tuesday 1st February 2005

21 degrees 29 minutes North
23 degrees 55 minutes West

My main topic today was going to be the culinary arts. Several correspondents have been expressing surprise or even concern about the contents of my larder. Man cannot live by pasta, baked beans and Hellman's Real Mayonnaise alone - or so they tell me.

Well, rest assured that I have plenty of other delicacies to enjoy. More Green & Black's Organic Chocolate than I could eat in a year, a pot of caviar with a shot-size bottle of vodka being kept on ice to celebrate the half-way stage, some fine marmalade and several packets of energy-giving dried fruit. All the gifts of well-wishers concerned that I might starve.

The Times were kind enough to print a few words about this expedition yesterday, but the word "skinny" was used to describe me. I have always preferred "slim". Anyway, the sea conditions today are not exactly smooth (another euphemism), so I have been unable to spend time at the cooker testing out the recipe I was going to share with you. It will just have to wait until tomorrow.

So my substitute topic will be Ellen MacArthur. There are rumours abounding that she and I are going to meet for a hot date together somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Sorry Ellen, would love to, but I've got a schedule to keep.

More worryingly, some people think there is a risk that I might accidentally run her down, thereby losing them the fortune they expect to reap from the bookies if she makes it back in time. I shall be watching out for her carefully, particularly now that Alasdair Ogilvy has promised to donate any such winnings to The AquaLung Trust.

That's probably enough for one day. The recipe will be available tomorrow if the sea abates. And I will also tell you what happened when I crossed the Rio de la Plata to Bishop Rock shipping lane at 0045 this morning.

Wednesday 2nd February 2005

20 degrees 41 minutes North
26 degrees 38 minutes West

Another 180 miles down. Hurrah!

By popular demand today, an extract from the AquaLung cookbook:

Tradewinds Pasta
Ingredients:
Pasta of your choice
Heinz Baked Beans
Hellmann's Real Mayonnaise - make sure you do not use any other brand, or worse still any low fat or slimmer's version. Only the full 79% fat original version will do.

Start by washing up the saucepan, which has been sitting in the sink since the last meal on the grounds that it was too rough to wash up at the time.

Fill with bottled water. Avoid the water you took on in the Canaries and especially ignore the saltwater tap. Add a touch of salt scraped from the deck after last night's big seas. And a dash of olive oil. Bring to the boil. Place the pasta in the water, return to the boil and simmer for ten minutes. Drain off and return to the saucepan. Wrestle with the cheap tin opener you now regret buying in Portugal. When you have finally opened the tin of Heinz Baked Beans, tip them all over the pasta and heat gently for one minute, stirring gently. Them pour the whole ghastly mess onto your plate. Do not use any serving implements - they will only need washing up later. Garnish with a huge spoonful of Hellmann's Real Mayonnaise. Wash down with a glass - but only one - of the house wine and finish dinner with a Bendick's Bittermint - made by Bendick's of Mayfair, who, despite the name, are in fact located in Winchester.

A splendid gourmet repast - not that I am eating anything quite like this myself, of course. No, the beans are being saved for another occasion and I am relying on a daily parachute supply from Fortnum's. Lark's tongues to start with tonight and a glass of Pol Roger to celebrate the fact that Ellen has gone by without crushing me under one of her hulls. Still, there are a couple of solo racers somewhere in the area still...

It's getting late and the sea state is such that is is very difficult to hold onto the laptop as we bounce off every surface inside the yacht. So the River Plate story will have to wait until tomorrow, not that is was going to be all that exciting. Looking forward to getting some sleep tonight. Last night was impossible - kept falling out of bed.

Thursday 3rd February 2005

19 degrees 27 minutes North
29 degrees 06 minutes West

My long overdue topic is the Rio de la Plata to Bishop Rock shipping lane - so long overdue that I can't really remember what I was going to say. However, a few points to clear up first.

A Mr. E from Gloucestershire wants his money back (note to Mission Control: has he actually sent any yet?). He says I am clearly not doing this trip singlehanded, as my earlier diary entry records having a Yankee wrapped round the forestay. Not a nautical sort of chap obviously. Anyway, he knows nothing about the two beautiful Danish stowaways I found in the master cabin. No, just kidding. But it is true that when I returned to the UK for 24 hours last week, leaving brother-in-law Johnny in charge in Las Palmas, he was visited by assorted beauties seeking a free ride to Antigua. The sonorous sounding Natalie from Italy was first, followed by two Danish girls describing themselves as "easy-going". Whatever can they mean? 

Other loose ends: the Baked Beans. Yesterday's diary entry has produced many suggestions today about what one can do with a surplus supply of Heinz Baked Beans. First prize must go to an anonymous lady from Surrey (do I know you?) for a truly unusual idea. However, I do not have a bathtub on the boat, so it will have to wait.

My subtle product placement today is the Jaffa Cake. There's nothing quite like sitting in the sun on the aft deck with a cup of tea and a Jaffa Cake. In fact, an entire packet of Jaffa Cakes as it happens. There's only 1 gram of fat per Jaffa Cake. So no chance of escaping from the "skinny" word The Times used. Note to Penny Wark at The Times: "lean" is altogether a better word.

Finally, because during the time I have been typing this, the wind has increased from 15 to 25 knots and we're bouncing again, the Rio de la Plata to Bishop Rock shipping lane. Also the Recife to Bishop Rock shipping lane and the Rio de Janiero etc etc. This turned out to be the first live test of my radar alarm. I have an eight mile exclusion zone around me - if anybody comes inside that, the alarm goes off. As indeed it did in the middle of the night whenever it was. The radar also tells me how close I will pass to the other ship and how soon. On this occasion it was to be 0.2 nautical miles in seventeen minutes. That got me up on deck fairly sharpish. That's it really. Not much of a story after all - but it was reasonably exciting at the time, particularly since then, as now, the wind strengthened suddenly so a reduction in sail area seemed appropriate simultaneously with the collision avoidance strategy.

That's all Folks! Please tell everybody you know about this website. Not this page of idle banter but the Donation page. The four worthy charities are expecting a fat cheque each at the end of all this and I need you to help the AquaLung Trust achieve the maximum figure possible.

Oh, nearly forgot... passed the 1000 nautical mile point earlier this evening. Right now only 1871nm still to go. And down to the last packet of Jaffa Cakes.

Tomorrows topic: Samuel Pepys - diarist and yachtsman?

Friday 4th February 2005

19 degrees 05 minutes North
31 degrees 50 minutes West

Before we hand over to Pepys as promised, a few more culinary notes. The Baked Bean saga has been played out - of course anybody who was paying any attention in the first place would have spotted that you don't need a tin opener for tins of beans any more, as they have a ringpull. Nevertheless, thank you Mr. C of SW London for your extraordinary idea with regard to post-Baked Bean usage of the yacht's plumbing - or in fact avoiding the use of the plumbing. It all sounds much too precarious to me. Mr. J of Hampshire has suggested that the Environmental Health authorities would take a dim view of my washing-up efforts. Well, I reckon the Health and Safety guys might have the odd word to say about my entire lifestyle right now. A dirty saucepan looks remarkably safe compared with everything else around me!

A brief thought, therefore, about the Jaffa Cake. Is it really a cake or is it a biscuit? Mrs. F of Essex has given me chapter and verse on this topic today - including information on the 'Huggabuga Jaffacake Appreciation Society International' or HJASI for short, based at Edinburgh University. More importantly, cakes do not attract VAT, whereas chocolate biscuits do. The all important cake/biscuit distinction was resolved by a VAT Tribunal to whom it was explained that Jaffa cakes go hard when stale (like any other cake), whereas chocolate biscuits go soft. Especially in a marine environment - so it is better to eat the whole packet at once, rather than risk degradation.

Today's endorsement is for MailASail.com, who have taken over this morning as my email service provider. Much quicker than my Y***O account - no adverts, just a straightforward prompt service. I have just had my satcom bill for last week - really rather a lot of money. So anybody who is kind enough to email me - please no attachments. MailASail - designed by Yachties for Yachties. (Is that enough shameless promotion?)

Samuel Pepys, as any ful kno, was a diarist. He also rose to be Secretary to the Admiralty at the end of the seventeenth century. He was born just off Fleet Street and died in Clapham, which presumably then was a village well outside London. He had a fine collection of 3000 books, which he left to his old college at Cambridge (where?!) and where they still reside today, in the original bookcases he had made for them. I only tell you this because, in amongst all the exciting goings-on which he describes so richly, he had time to make the following observation: 'I know nothing that can give a better notion of infinity and eternity than being upon the sea in a little vessel without anything in sight but yourself within the whole hemisphere'. (Thank you to Mrs. S via Mrs. B for this gem) And Pepys was right, the emptiness and infinity is remarkable. Actually, I did see one ship last night and I caught sight of a bird later on today. But that's it. I was promised flying fish all over the decks in the morning. But no. Nothing. Actually, I don't mind too much, as my teak decks are looking good right now and I don't want a whole load of confused fish messing them up.

Life on board AquaLung is never dull - somehow there is always something that needs doing, whether pumping out the engine bilge by hand, checking for chafing or working out which angle to sail in order to leave the cockpit in the sun. The wind is very variable in strength and the sea state can change in a matter of minutes, so one has to be ready for anything. It's been a grey cloudy day today, however, which is a tad disappointing and almost certainly caused by my decision to wear shorts for the first time. 

Future topics: John Keats, Captain Jack Sparrow, Stout Cortez, Frosties, beards and what to do with an over-ripe papaw. Tune in - same Bat Time, same Bat Channel - tomorrow!!! 

And so to bed.

Saturday 5th February 2005

Well, I was certainly up with the lark this morning. Not literally of course - there aren't many larks around here and they have surely made themselves even more scarce after my previous reference to dining on larks tongues. Just to clarify, particularly for Miss M of Oxfordshire who took a dim view of such a practice, I did not really have larks tongues for dinner the other day. No, unfortunately they didn't have any in the supermarket in Las Palmas. Most disappointing.

I did not set out today to leave the first vapour trail in the blue-sky scenario, but my radar alarm had other plans for me. Rather earlier than I might have wished, it went into panic mode, insisting that there was something huge not far away, approaching at some speed. So I got out the binos, scanned the horizon, saw nothing and sure enough it vanished from the screen too. I went back to bed. Ten minutes later? You guessed it. Up again for the same problem. And again it went missing.

Now, without being overly paranoid (just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not out to get you...) somebody did tell me that bored submarine commanders sometime use passing yachts as notional target practice. This strikes me as highly improbable and the idea of a submarine surfacing, diving and then resurfacing just to annoy me is somewhat implausible. However, it provided an excellent use for the over-ripe pawpaw. With a loud bellow of "depth charges away" I lobbed it as far as I could. There was no more trouble after that.

One small matter to deal with as a result of yesterday's diary. Thank you Nurse C of Norfolk for your useful advice on chafing. However, just to clarify, I was referring to potential damage to my sails caused by friction against the stays, sheets and other lines. I have no personal issues needing attention at this time. But thank you anyway.

The highlight of my day, apart from lying in the sun on my aft deck, was shaving. The designer stubble look favoured by David Beckham et al is not for me. It had been cultivated for well over a week and had been impossibly itchy for the last three days. Anyway, it was there long enough for me to rejoice in the fact that it is not grey. I waited for an opportune moment of relative sea calm in order to undertake this mission. Inevitably, of course, a huge wave turned up at the wrong moment and I nearly cut my head off. Anyway, all is well and my chin is once again as soft as a baby's bottom.

There has been a request today for more information on wind. Well Mr. B of Essex, I was assured by those who know about these things that I would know when I reached the trade winds. "How will I know?" I asked "You just will," they said.

Well, today for the first time I thought I had made it. I'm well into the right area after all. However, tonight as I write this, the wind is once again all over the place. The nice people at my weather advisory service in the USA (can't give them a proper promotional plug yet as I have yet to find out what/if they are charging me...) told me that I should enjoy the wind while it lasts, as it is going to fall away over the next few days. This is a pity, as I was on schedule for a Valentine's Day arrival in Antigua. Ever the romantic...

Time and space are running out and it has just started to rain - which is good as it will help to wash the salt off everything. I haven't even touched on some of the promised topics for today. It looks like Keats and Stout Cortez will have to be held over until tomorrowr. My product placement of the day was going to be Frosties - more tomorrow. Which leaves only my quiz question, a clue to which is in yesterdays' diary:

Who said: "That's what a ship is you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. But what a ship is... really is, is freedom".

Sunday 6th February 2005 - BREAKING NEWS

At 1305 hours London time today, my GPS advised me that I had covered 1472 nautical miles since leaving Las Palmas just under nine days ago and that I have 1472 nautical miles left to run.

I don't mind telling you that this a hugely emotional moment for me.

Sunday 6th February 2005 (part 2)

18 degrees 03 minutes North
36 degrees 06 minutes West

You know that feeling when you realise, just a bit later than you should have done, that you've got too much sail up? I had one of those today...

In fact it's been quite a day. Full of significant moments of every type. But before we move on to those, as usual some outstanding points from yesterday.

A Mr. B of Gloucestershire and Caracas and a Mr. E of New York have both taken time out of their busy schedules to try and claim the prize for identifying yesterday's mystery quote. In fact, many others did that too, but only these two correctly pointed out that I had taken a certain amount of liberty with the exact words of Captain Jack Sparrow of Pirates of the Caribbean fame (for indeed 'twas he). I know, I know, but somehow the reference to the Black Pearl didn't really work. Anyway, we'll have another great line from that marvelous film tomorrow. Don't miss it.

I cannot take any liberties when quoting from John Keats. The P family from Fulham recently gave me a beautiful edition of his complete works, which I have been enjoying immensely. Which brings us neatly on to Stout Cortez, at last. I have no idea whether Cortez was indeed stout or whether Keats needed a one syllable word to describe him. Cortez might actually have been "skinny" for all I know, but it would have ruined the whole line.

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer is a poem I remember learning and reciting at school. It tells how Keats had his eyes opened on reading Chapman's translation of Homer.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star'd at the Pacific - and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien

I'm not sure now why I wanted to share this with you two or was it three days ago, but I do know two things. One: if I find myself near Darien, then my navigation skills are even worse than I feared and I have missed Antigua. Two: this ocean sailing is something else; show me the Pacific and I may have a wild surmise myself.

So. Today, Well obviously the halfway stage, already reported on, was significant. I marked it by enjoying a vodka miniature and a pot of the finest Beluga - thank you to the FH family of Hampshire and Yorkshire. I then wrote a frivolous note in the bottle and lobbed it over the side. I repeated this exercise with another bottle, specially provided by my own family. This came complete with a wax sealing kit. This was not easy to use in the weather conditions we have seen today - I almost sealed myself to the cooker in the process and will have a fine wax coating on my baked potato tonight.

The euphoria of being closer to Antigua than I am to the Canaries was real, but soon tempered by the realisation that I still have a very long way to go. I have to confess to being really tired now. The alarm clock is set for regular intervals throughout the night, so sleep is never for long. A bath, a glass of J&B and eight hours uninterrupted sleep are still a long way off.

Enough of that, let me tell you about the whale. It was right there, about 100 yards away and it was BIG. I had been warned that they are really only dangerous if a gentleman whale somehow believes, in a fair amount of confusion it must be said, that your yacht is a lady whale. Fortunately this whale was brighter than that - or perhaps it was a lady whale. Either way, it was a remarkable sight.

Other highlights of the day include the last of the fresh milk. Its UHT from now on. So I used the last half pint to make a cup of the finest Green & Blacks Organic Hot Chocolate (oops, there I go dropping names again). Oh, and also my first piece of major equipment failure. I put the clock back one hour and the hands fell off. Now that's really useful...

Tomorrow's topics: my reading material, product endorsement and the answer to today's quiz. Who said: "If it wasn't for those valleys, these peaks wouldn't be this high."?

Finally, some more Keats to conclude with. Extracyted from his Sonet On the Sea.

Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody -
Sit ye near some old Caverrns Mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nympohs quir'd!

Monday 7th February 2005

16 degrees 49 minutes North
41 degrees 06 minutes West

Yes, it was indeed an unfortunate spelling mistake. The second last word of the last line of Keats yesterday should have been "sea-nymphs". Thank you blue-blooded stockbroker Mr. B of Essex (some contradiction there, surely?) for being the first of quite a few to point this out. There have been several frivolous remarks about this, as you might imagine. While we're there, the lines were "extracted" not "extracyted" from a "Sonnet" not a "Sonet". It was late, I was tired...

And no, it was the clock's hands which fell off, not mine.

Now of course being the practical chap that I am, I set about mending the clock today. It will come as no surprise to those who know me well, that I now have three small brass screws, two clock hands, an electric mechanism, a piece of glass and a brass surround, all of which resolutely refuse to go back together again. 

I should have known better. The cassette player decided not to work very early on in this expedition and I allowed myself to be persuaded that if I took it apart, I would be able to mend it. Two hours later I finally manage to reassemble it. The cassette player still does not work and I can now only get the CD part of it to function by leaning on it rather heavily.

So, on to yesterday's quote. I was impressed by how many of you recognised Andre Agassi's comment after winning at Flushing Meadow in 1999. At least I was impressed until one person admitted that it had been easier to find on Google than the Captain Jack Sparrow line the day before. Hmmm. "If it wasn't for those valleys, these peaks wouldn't be this high." As I look out over the aft rail at a wall of water looming up behind me, I reflect that it's only the trough in front of the wave that makes the crest look so huge. Actually, it's not much help. But on a serious note for a minute, we all have to experience a few lows to put proper perspective on the highs. 

I was going to write more as there are several topics still to cover, not least of all a protest from Tony the Tiger that I haven't made good on my promise to talk about Frosties. But the wind is gusting over 30 knots, the laptop is flying around the chart table and I am going to have to hold some of it over for tomorrow.

So, no quiz tonight, just another great line from Captain Jack Sparrow:

The commodore: "You are without doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of."

Jack Sparrow: "But you have heard of me."

Finally, one small request. Those of you who are kind enough to send me emails, please delete any previous message from the bottom of them. I am charged by the KB received - and sent...

Tuesday 8th February 2005

16 degrees 32 minutes North
42 degrees 04 minutes West

Bravo Ellen! What a great girl she is. I put on a hat today just so that I could raise it to her, throw it in the air and shout "Hurrah!".

The enormity of her achievement is even more real to me out here in the middle of the Atlantic. So much is unpredictable and you just have to adapt to ever-changing circumstances. The late J.C. Bamford of the eponymous engineering company reputedly used to say "Problems are only solutions in disguise". That spirit lives on in Ellen MacArthur. I've only partly caught up with the news today, but I understand that she may have been made a Dame. I hope this is true - and I trust that Her Majesty was on the night train to Cornwall last night, clutching her sword, ready to bestow the honour right there and then. It has been suggested that I should keep going, get back to Las Palmas in about 55 days and lift the record off her. Sure - at the speed I go, it would take until Christmas and I'd only get lost.

Shrove Tuesday today - Pancake Day. But no ingredients here - so no pancakes. Had a baked potato instead - but it's not quite the same.

Right - to business. Keats provoked a few replies, including offerings by John Masefield and by Rudyard Kipling from Mr. B of Gloucestershire and South America. Do you like Kipling, Mr. B? Why yes, I kiple whenever I can.

Kipling - The Sea and The Hills - Second verse

Who hath desired the Sea? --
the immense and contemptuous surges?
The shudder, the stumble, the swerve,
as the star-stabbing bow-sprit emerges?
The orderly clouds of the Trades, 
the ridged, roaring sapphire thereunder --
Unheralded cliff-haunting flaws
and the headsail's low-volleying thunder --
His Sea in no wonder the same his Sea 
and the same through each wonder:
His Sea as she rages or stills?
So and no otherwise -- so and no otherwise -- 
hillmen desire their Hills.

There was a lot of interest in Agassi too. So here it is in more detail, thanks to Mr. M of New York.

September 14th 1999 - Agassi beat Todd Martin in the US Open men's final in five sets (the third final to go the distance in 25 years) lifting him to the position of world number one player, following a significant slump in his career. He said his periods in the tennis wilderness not only enhanced his success, they made it possible. ``Part of me is convinced that if it wasn't for those valleys, these peaks wouldn't be this high, it's how my spirit has always worked. And, secondly, I think there has been a lot of gain I've received through those valleys. I've always found a way to get the most out of my life. I don't know if you ever make up for missed opportunities. The best you can do is not live in regret from here on in. That has been my commitment, that if I do lose, or if I do miss out on certain opportunities, that I don't regret not at least being prepared and taking my fair shot at it.'' He also added "I've changed a lot. I don't have hair anymore!".

Well, my tennis may not be as good as his, but I still have my hair.

Frosties? I like them. A lot. They're Grrrreat - says Tony the Tiger - and he ain't wrong. When I resurfaced after several hours under the knife of London's finest lung surgeon in July 2001, I wasn't feeling very well. For really quite a few days actually. I couldn't eat anything - and then one morning I had a bowl of Frosties. That's it really.

Product endorsement. I have been asked how much I am being paid to say nice things about Hellmann's Real Mayonnaise, Heinz Baked Beans, Jaffa Cakes, Green & Black's chocolate, Frosties etc. Well, not enough, that's for sure. In fact, not a cent. So, I shall be mightily disappointed if I get home and don't find the driveway blocked by a Hellman's tanker with a pipeline going straight in through the kitchen window. Failing that, a fat cheque (not a low fat cheque but the full 79.3% fat cheque) payable to the AquaLung Trust will suffice.

It has been a good day in the Atlantic today - possibly even the best so far. The sun shone for most of the day, the wind dropped to sensible levels after last night's battering and even started to blow from a direction which actually helps me to head for Antigua. Long may it all last - although I should never have mentioned it. I cleaned the stainless steel again, picked the flying fish off the deck, keeping in a matchbox the smallest fish I have ever seen, read my book and contemplated the immensity of the ocean and the meaning of life. Sorry, still no idea...

So far, I have read the following books: Spies by Michael Frayn - now he is a remarkable all-rounder. He has written several books and a number of plays too. One is Noises Off, a magnificent farce and another was Copenhagen, very different but extraordinarily successful. For his day job, he translates from Russian, mostly Chekhov. My next book was The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. Winner of the Whitbread Book of the Year Award, this novel is written from the point of view of a 15 year old boy with Aspergers Syndrome.

Next up was A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush by Eric Newby. This recounts the adventures of two Englishmen travelling in Afghanistan in the fifties. With almost no previous experience they set out on a major mountaineering expedition. Odd that Mrs. A of Northumberland sent that particular book to me just before I left for this voyage...

I am now reading Transatlantic at Last, the story of Helen Tew, who sailed across the Atlantic in 2000 at the age of 89. I read Joshua Slocum, Bernard Moitissier and Robin Knox-Johnston as preparation for this voyage and I expect Helen Tew's story to be just as gripping.

I've gone on too long, so I will leave you with a question of sailing manners posed by Dr. C of Somerset: If sailing with a friend who is seasick, does etiquette suggest you should heave too?

Oh and finally, Jack Sparrow's line of the day. I know this is meaningless to those of you who have not yet seen Pirates of the Caribbean, but it amuses me.

Jack Sparrow: [looking at all the swords] Who makes all these? 
Will Turner: I do. And I practice with them three hours a day. 
Jack Sparrow: You need to find yourself a girl mate.

Wednesday 9th February 2005
(written before the computer crash!)

16 degrees 07 minutes North
44 degrees 24 minutes West
2003 miles completed.
1002 miles left as the flying fish flies!

Well, I had no idea how many people were reading the unadulterated rubbish which I churn out every day. There's certainly three of you, because that's how many complaints I had today when the diary was late being issued. Mr. O of Sussex was concerned that I might already be on a peak in Darien or worse still, that I might have joined Luca Brazzi (see The Godfather - "Luca Brazzi swims with the fishes...").

No, it's a time zone thing. Now that I am almost 45 degrees West of Greenwich, I should be three hours behind London. Actually I have done two time changes so far - the first with disastrous consequences for my clock, as described previously, the second rather less dramatic. Anyway, the upshot of all this is that I am delivering my diary to Mission Control in the UK much too late in the evening and since Eddie the new brother-in-law and website guru is in Luxembourg, we lose another hour. I decided, therefore, to sit down and write it earlier today, but I haven't. Which is odd really, because it's not like I'm rushed off my feet with other things to do.

Having said that, Mrs. A of Northumberland had expressed concern a couple of days ago that I had not mentioned anything in the diary about washing my clothes. Two reasons for this. The first is that it hadn't occurred to me as a great topic. And the second is, of course, that I haven't actually done any washing. It's hot here and I'm not wearing a huge amount of clothes (steady, girls...), but Mrs. A is right. She suggested Monday should be washing day in time-honoured fashion.

Well, not wishing to rush into this too quickly, I waited until today. As I write this, I realise I have no idea what day it is - so I have just checked on my fabbo Psion Revo organiser (that's almost more shameless than my usual brand name dropping) and I can tell you that it is in fact Wednesday. Although it won't be by the time you three read this.

Back to the laundry bag, which was indeed getting fairly full and was likely to walk off of it's own accord the minute I go alongside in Antigua. I set to work with a bottle of Ariel A Mano, thoughtfully bought for me in Las Palmas. Having washed everything, I hung it all out to dry in the sun. This was not easy since this expedition started with only one clothes peg and that went overboard on the first leg between Lagos and Las Palmas when the fish was caught. I secured everything as well as I could without pegs, not wishing the beautiful sailing yacht AquaLung to look too much like a clothes-horse, and then spent the rest of the morning retrieving various items as they blew away - extraordinary given the lack of wind. One handkerchief is now making it's own way to Antigua independently. 

The point of all this, if there was one, is that no sooner was everything almost dry than it started to rain. I had no idea washing was such a palaver. I shall aim not to do it again. Do you know, I think I was right about this not being a very exciting topic, so let's move on.

Dame Ellen, my absolute Number One Living Hero, did not sleep for more than twenty minutes at any time during her voyage. I have stretched my slumbers out to 90 minutes and I am half-way mad with lack of sleep. I've put my hat back on, just so I can raise it to her again.

My hat, incidentally, is a Tilley Hat. For those of you not familiar with the Tilley Hat, it is Canadian (with British brass hardware), "the finest in all the world", insured against loss and guaranteed for life. In a bored moment today, I found that there is a little pocket inside it which contains an extensive instruction book on how to use it. Seriously. It also comes with Brag Tags. When somebody admires your hat, you take out a Brag Tag and hand it to them and they then know where to get one for themselves. Marvellous stuff. These Brag Tags also carry endorsements from various people and anecdotes of relevance. "It's a terrific hat" - Sir Edmund Hillary, (on a loquacious day). "It's the best damn sailing hat in the entire world"- Yachting Know-it-All (his description) Donald M Street. Apparently elephant trainer Michael Hackenberger of Bowmansville (Ontario) Zoo has had his Tilley hat eaten by an elephant - three times. Each time he has waited, collected it, washed it and carried on as before.

This brings me neatly to the Jack Sparrow line of the day:

Barbossa: I want 50% of ye plunder.
Jack Sparrow: 15.
Barbossa: 40.
Jack Sparrow: 25.
Barbossa: (considering)
Jack Sparrow: And... I'll buy you a hat. A really BIG one... Commodore.

(Will this catch on amongst yachtbrokers?...)

Quiz of the day: Who said:

In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a barque, a sea, a wind,
For still thy eyes - which I may call the sea -
Do ebb and flow with tears. The barque thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.

Poet of the day: John Masefield, of course. Only Walt Whitman is quoted in more yacht brochures...

SEA FEVER

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

I'll drink to that............(N. Baker, not J. Masefield)

Thursday 10th February 2005

16 degrees 23 minutes North
46 degrees 52 minutes West

859 miles left to go

Well this is Thursday evening's log and it is hot on the heels of the Wednesday evening one. A computer glitch put me out of email contact from last night until around midday today. I was not a happy bunny. However, the suggestion that my wife Karen would take over and would regale you with stories of my DIY skills over the past twenty years or so, was enough to have me trying every button, switch and lever in order to fire up the connection again. Fortunately with rather more success than the previous attempts with the cassette player and the clock might have led one to expect.

So no feedback from the last Captain's log to deal with. And no winner in the quiz. Do you want a clue? The person to whom the lines are addressed has just been having a bit of slap and tickle with Leonardo Di Caprio - so Mrs. L of Buckinghamshire, for she supplied this quote, is mystified as to why she should be sobbing.

Last night, in the absence of any meaningful wind, I turned on the engine. First time since Las Palmas, except for the checkover every second day. The process of lowering the sail (big mistake) did not go entirely smoothly and I must confess to having a slightly unprofessional moment. Or two. All this was at 0130 this morning. Bit scary, because then some wind appeared from nowhere at just the wrong moment and disappeared again a few minutes later. Still, no harm done and nobody out here to see it. Or so it should have been.

I have not seen anything other than sea, sky and dead flying fish for six days. So how can it possibly have happened, that as this mini drama unfolded in the early hours, a ship appeared. I didn't immediately hear the radar alarm as I was clinging onto the mast at the time. What the officer of the watch must have thought I was up to, I do not know. He's probably still filing a detailed report. I hope my insurers aren't reading this...

Now, I hear a rumour that various people are running books on my arrival date in Antigua. Insider trading hint: go long. There's no wind out here and I can't motor the whole way, because I don't have enough fuel. So a romantic arrival on Valentine's Day is out. My guess is Wednesday, but Tuesday is not totally impossible. More worryingly, there is also a book running on which island I will actually arrive at. The odds on the Falklands are not as long as I would like to see them. Thank you for the confidence you have in my navigation skills. I know who you are. And where you live. If I can ever find it...

Other highlights of today? Lunch. I'm still trying to clean the frying pan after that disaster. And on culinary matters, a private remark for any JA boys who might be reading this. Remember Winnie? The scratch scratch noise of carbonised toast being scraped clean for tea? Same thing here. The cooker has two grill settings: Off and flamethrower.

Now for those of you who have continued to worry about my diet, fear not. The yacht was victualled in Las Palmas by my wife and my brother in law. So do not be taken in by my hardship stories. There's plenty here which is edible. Or was once. And there are some ice creams - so all is not lost. And today it was hot. So hot, that I had to put the Bendick's Bittermints in the fridge. And the second packet of Jaffa Cakes.

In an earlier instalment, I alluded to a Message in a Bottle kit, kindly provided by my family. In fact, Karen, Rosanna, Francesca and Charlie put together a complete bag of goodies for me, so that every day I have a present to open. This has been the highlight of each day. I'm not going to tell you what every present has been, because some things have to be private, but this has been the best connection to home I could possibly have had. Every present has been wonderful. The game of Solitaire was perhaps a bit close to the bone and is somewhat difficult to play in anything other than a flat calm, but the rest have been marvellous.

The closest I have seen to a flat calm is right now. I guess the Atlantic doesn't do calm - there is still a reasonable swell. It has been a truly spectacular evening, beautiful deep blue sea, small fluffy clouds, one storm cloud and a big rainbow - almost complete. And then a bird flew over. It turned and flew past me six times, slightly lower each time and then returned whence it had come. I have no idea what it was - white except for a black ring at the aft end of the body and then a long and very thin tail. Any idea, bird spotters?

Poem of the day:

A sailor went to sea sea sea
To see what he could see see see
But all that he could see see see
Was sea sea sea sea sea sea sea
Anon.

Am I ready for Antigua? Could say!!

Letter of the day: To Customer Relations at B&Q:

Dear Sir/Madam

My congratulations to you on getting a yacht to leave the UK on 28th November 2004, sail 27,354 miles around the world and arrive back 72 days later.

Could you please let me know when the kitchen I ordered 96 days ago will be arriving from your warehouse 13 miles away?

And finally, Jack Sparrow of the day: "Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they are going to do something incredibly... stupid."

Friday 11th February 2005

16 degrees 54 minutes North
49 degrees 23 minutes West

The good news this evening is that the moon is back. From Portugal down to the Canaries we had bright moonlit nights, but on this leg of the expedition the nights have been dark. Great for watching the stars maybe, but moonlight does give an extra dimension to the sea and also lifts the slight claustrophobia which total blackness imposes. "And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays".

My main topic today is going to be my boat, with which I am now wholly and irrationally in love. This is the start of the fifteenth night we have spent alone together out here on the deep blue sea and it's time I told you a little more about her. She is a Bowman 48DS, but is actually 15.36 metres - say 50ft - overall. This is peculiarly understated - some shipyards would have called her a 55 on that basis. In all fairness, her hull length is 14.68 metres - close to 48ft. She was launched by Rival Bowman Yachts, then of Ocean Quay, Southampton, in 1999. AquaLung Shipping Limited (I always wanted a shipping company) acquired her in Lymington from a private owner who had kept her magnificently. I am trying to maintain the same standards so that when we sell her, as sadly we must once this trip is complete, the new owner will be similarly impressed.

She is called a 48DS because she has a deck saloon, that's to say that the superstructure is slightly raised so that there are windows all round - essential in my opinion if you are going to be on board for any length of time. You are not cooped up down below peering out of a porthole. (If you're bored of this already, skip to the end of the paragraph. I'll meet you there is a minute, but as you might imagine, this fine yacht has become my specialist subject the last couple of weeks.) There is a splendid owner's cabin with shower aft and forward are two twin guest cabins, sharing a shower. The main saloon has two roll-out berths, which is where I have been sleeping in order to be close to the navigation station and the companionway out into the cockpit. With the additional pilotberth, she can sleep nine comfortably, although there might be a queue for the showers in the morning. She has a centre cockpit, which means that you steer from the middle of the boat not the back. The layout and deck arrangement has been planned specifically for short-handed sailing and I can genuinely say there is almost nothing about her that I would change. Some hands on the clock would be nice though. Today's issue is that the tricolour light at the top of the mast is no longer working. If I were Dame E, I would have been up there with a spare bulb between my teeth and would have changed it and been down again in the time it has taken me to type this. But I'm not. So I shall have to proceed for the remainder of the voyage incorrectly lit as a motor yacht rather than a sailing yacht. (That's enough boat - Ed.)

Ok - recipe time. I am indebted to Mrs. F of the Cote d'Azur for a recipe for Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake. I jest not. I have plenty of mayonnaise on board and a lot of chocolate. Sadly I have no layer cake pans - or mixer. Too bad. Anyway, here it is. Do with it what you will.

Ingredients:
1 pkg chocolate cake mix (with pudding in the mix)
1 cup Hellmann's Real mayonnaise
1 cup water
3 eggs (Large)
_____

Grease and flour two 9-inch layer cake pans
In large mixer bowl at low speed blend all ingredients for 30 seconds
Beat at medium speed for two more minutes
Pour into prepared pans
Bake in preheated 350' oven for 30-35 minutes or until cake pulls away from sides of pans and springs back when touched lightly in centre
Cool in pans for ten minutes
Remove then cool on wire racks
Fill & frost as desired

I cannot comment on this any further. Chocolate Mayonnaise cake? Are they serious? Would somebody please bake one this weekend and report back to me. We need to know...

Now - the answer to Wednesday's quiz. Which was indeed Capulet, speaking to his daughter Juliet. William Shakespeare - it was time we had some of the great bard. Romeo and Juliet - Act Three, Scene Five for those who want to delve further.

From the bard to the bird. The majority vote today is that it was a tropicbird. Second choice a tern. But I prefer the tropicbird. More exotic.

Thank you to Mr. O from Sussex for today's quiz: Who said/sung to whom in what film (bonus point for the year too):

Oh, the sailor's life is the life for me
how I love to sail on the bounding sea
and I never never ever do a thing about the weather
for the weather never ever does a thing for me.
Oh, a sailor's life is a life for me,
tiddle um dum pom pom dum de dee!

OK, Shakespeare it ain't, but we have to broaden the appeal and it's better than "A Sailor went to sea sea sea".

Finally, in the absence of a Jack Sparrowism (I do have another but am saving it) today we have a pirate joke instead, thanks to Mr. E of Antibes:

A pirate walks into a bar and the bartender says:
"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What happened? You look terrible."
"What do you mean?" said the pirate, "I feel fine."
"What about the wooden leg? You didn't have that before."
"Well, we were in a battle and I got hit with a cannon ball, but I'm fine now."
"OK, but what about that hook? What happened to your hand?"
"We were in another battle. I boarded a ship and got into a sword fight. My hand was cut off. I got fitted with a hook. I'm fine, really."
"What about that eye patch?"
"Oh, that. Well, one day we were at sea and a flock of birds flew over. I looked up and got bird droppings in my eye."
"You're kidding," said the bartender, "you couldn't lose an eye just from some bird droppings."

"It was my first day with the hook."

Saturday 12th February 2005

17 degrees 17 minutes North
52 degrees 12 minutes West

Just a short Captain's Log today. It's the weekend and although that makes no difference out here, every diarist should be allowed a day off occasionally. Besides which, I know the readership falls off heavily at the weekend and the last thing you all want to do on Monday morning is wade through tons of this rubbish.

So, the good news to start with.

I have had my first offer of marriage as a result of this trip. She's a beautiful girl and I am very honoured. In fact, she has hedged her bets a bit by saying "I wish I could marry you", which is not quite a formal proposal. She has clearly taken into account the view the present Mrs. Baker might take of such an idea and also the age difference - after all, as she celebrated her sixth birthday last November, we may have to wait a few years more. She is, however, quite gorgeous and the chap who does get to marry her many years hence will be fortunate indeed.

Not only a proposal of marriage - but I have also seen my first flying fish actually flying. Previous encounters with flying fish had been limited to gathering their rigid corpses off the deck in the morning and consigning them to the deep. I am advised that if suitably prepared, they are delicious lightly fried in butter, if rather bony. Back to the flying - I had assumed that they would pop out of the water, skim a few yards above it and drop back in. Far from it, they fly huge distances, turn corners, duck in and out of the waves - it's most impressive.

Now the bad news. Firstly for Mrs. J of Cornwall who writes to say how much she enjoyed rowing out to greet Dame E on her return earlier this week and how pleased she is that I have also decided to arrive into Falmouth Harbour. She is preparing a special batch of Cornish Pasties for me as she reckons I'll need feeding up by then. I will - and there probably won't be many pasties around in the other Falmouth Harbour, which is in fact my destination. Well almost. I understand that I am actually expected in English Harbour, right next door. Sorry Mrs. J - pop them in the post, would you?

The other bad news is that it's raining in Antigua - and also here on me, 548 miles to the East. It's another rollercoaster of a night ahead, with an interrupted sleep pattern I dare say.

ETA now Wednesday - and that's still a long way off.

Sunday 13th February 2005

17 degrees 23 minutes North
54 degrees 20 minutes West

In yesterday's Captain's Log, I hinted at the possibility that Saturday might be a troubled night. And sure enough, I was given a sharp reminder that this voyage of discovery will not be over until the beautiful sailing yacht AquaLung is firmly tied to the quayside in English Harbour and I have kissed Antiguan soil and hugged a tree.

The Antiguan Minister of Tourism should be well chuffed, as really quite a number of people have taken it upon themselves to fly into Antigua to welcome me in. I am hugely honoured by this and only hope that I can live up to their expectations and arrive at the right island. For most of the day yesterday, I had that end of term feeling I remember so well from prep school. You know the sort of thing. Lessons don't really matter any more, the end of term tea is coming up, the finals of the football ties, the carol service, the end of term concert - and the Headmaster tells the leavers The Facts of Life...

Anyway, it was not long before reality intruded. Dark clouds gathered in every direction and the sea state notably grew over a very short period of time. I put in a call to my weather gurus at Weather Routing Inc of Glen Falls, New York. Nothing exceptional heading your way they said, just routine trade winds weather pattern with 6/8 ft seas. And they were of course right, as they have been with every call all the way over. I guess I had just got used to the last two days of little wind, tranquil(ish) sea and a more relaxed time on board.

Waves look bigger at night, it's well known, but for a two hour period in the middle of the night, they really were big. And unusually, in my limited experience at any rate, they were very close together. In the dark I could see the crests breaking rather higher just aft of the yacht than I would have preferred. A few dumped water over the aft deck as they went by. In due course it all passed by and today has once again been marked by the need to boost the speed with a little bit of engine.

If I have learned anything over the past few weeks, it is to presume nothing out here in the Atlantic. "The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation," said Joseph Conrad. And he knew what he was talking about. Mr. McB of New Zealand wrote this to me: "The sea is always the sea... capricious, sly, impatient, loving, terrifying... and sometimes all those things in the one day. To cross an ocean is a big thing. Of course to cross an ocean is never to conquer it, but it is to conquer a whole lot of other things..."

So where does this leave us this Sunday evening? Well, with the sure knowledge that there is still a long way to go. 420 miles may be "nearly there" but it isn't really and it is no time to lower one's guard.

**********

There's just been another twenty minute break in writing this as the wind has shifted again and is now proving very unpredictable. I was headed direct for Antigua, but have now had to alter course... which will add time. This my seventeenth night solo at sea and actually I'm ready to arrive now, thank you.

Let's end with some good news. The rain last night - did I mention the rain? - gave me the opportunity to break out my second new Musto outfit. The Caribbean kit. The first set I used was the MPX - fantastic for colder climes and it saw plenty of use early on. In fact I slept in it a certain amount. The Caribbean rig is every bit as good - just thinner. I may not be a champion sailor, but I do have a great boat and the right clothes.

No more introspection. Tomorrow we'll be back to the usual fare of frivolity and Jack Sparrow. I hope.

Monday 14th February 2005

16 degrees 56 minutes North
56 degrees 53 minutes West

Yeah - I'm sorry. Yesterday's Captain's log was a bit subdued. But then so was I. Sunday Night Fever. It happens sometimes. But not on a Monday. And today has been a great day - although a bit disappointing on the Valentine Card front, it has to be said. Maybe the Antiguan postal system is groaning under the weight of mail waiting to be collected... but then again...

Right. Some feedback. Mrs. H of London pointed out that I should be hugging my wife and family first before I start on the trees. Ah but Mrs. H, I said that the voyage would be over only when I kissed Antiguan soil and hugged a tree. I aim to hug my family before the trip is over, as they are coming out to meet me - on a BIG yacht. This may, however, depend on what view the Antiguan authorities take of people boarding an incoming yacht which has not yet cleared customs.

Mr. S of Suffolk, who incidentally has attained Complete Hero status by emailing details of my website to 2610 other people - yes, 2610 - tells me that you can get Cornish Pasties in the other Falmouth too. There's a little bakery behind the Nelson museum. You'll know where to find me, Mrs. J of Cornwall.

Not a huge amount of wind today, but the sea still changed at least 117 times. The endless variety is extraordinary. "Dark-heaving, boundless, endless and sublime, the image of eternity," Byron called it. James Joyce had a vivid description for the sea too, but I cannot publish it in this family journal. Mrs. A and son of the Frozen North came up with it and it is a fine description which I recognise from a couple of occasions over the past few weeks. Who knows their Joyce and can email me the one word which is particularly apposite?

I have several preferred spots to be on the short breaks between polishing stainless steel, washing clothes or decks, preparing culinary masterpieces etc. One is in the cockpit facing aft - port side preferably. No idea why. Another is in the corner, right on the aft rail. The port side is marginally further away from the satellite communication dome, which has a health warning attached to it recommending you stay at least 1.5 metres away. If somebody telephones while I'm sitting there, I get fried. DIY radiotherapy.

The third great spot to be is right up in the bow, rather like Kate Winslet was on Titanic, shortly before she too had a bit of slap and tickle with Leonardo DiCaprio. He's a lad that one, first it's Juliet, then Rose and I bet it's somebody else in The Aviator.

Anyway, the fact that that part of the Titanic would surely have been out of bounds to passengers should not detract from the point. Which is that it is a great place to be. I sat there with my legs hanging either side of the anchor - hoping that the windlass would not suddenly spring into action. And I watched the sea. One minute you are in a valley between the waves, surrounded by hills and the furthest you can see in any direction is 50 yards. Then you are lifted right up on the next wave and you can see not only into the next valley but all the way out to the true horizon. Then back down again into another valley, completely different from the last one. Without wishing to attach too much significance to this, it did nevertheless strike me that there are times when one is hemmed in by difficulties and you only need to resolve one, to rise above it and everything else becomes clearer. I have just read this over again and it doesn't sound great - but I know what I mean.

Jack Sparrowism du jour? Well, I'm still saving the one more line I have. Anyway, enough of you have already correctly identified what it is going to be. So, Pirate jokes instead today:

What's a pirate's favourite country?
Arrrrgentina.

What did the pirate wear to the Oscars?
ARRRRRmani (topical - Giorgio Armani's new yacht is in Antigua... this should ensure me an invitation on board)

And my favourite - out of this lot anyway:

How much does it cost a pirate to get a piercing?
A buck an ear.

250 miles to go. ETA noon Wednesday. Still time to catch a flight. And a small change of location. A yachtowner told me today that his captain reckons his beautiful 120ft yacht is dwarfed by the other yachts in Falmouth Harbour. Me thinks he needs a new yacht... Meanwhile, little AquaLung will look very small there - so English Harbour it is!

Tuesday 15th February 2005

16 degrees 58 minutes North
60 degrees 04 minutes West

96 miles to run!

Elizabeth: That's it, then? That's the secret, grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow. You spent three days lying on a beach drinking rum. 
Jack Sparrow: Welcome to the Caribbean, luv.

I just passed 060 degrees West - another hour change on the clock - and almost the beginning of the Caribbean. Good enough for me. Tomorrow is the big day and I find as it approaches, that it brings with it a wide range of emotions. Strangely, I was more excited four days ago than I am now. That's not to say that I am not excited - sure I am. The family reunion will be epic and I can't wait. It's going to be a huge day with many people - and that makes me apprehensive of course. And there's a note of sadness too. The end of an extraordinary experience. I don't go in much for tears in public - had it trained out of me by the English private school system. But you might just catch a damp eye or a wobbly lip tomorrow. OK, of course I'm excited - I'm just trying to stay calm.

I received a complaint today. Not enough drama and excitement in the diary. All just too easy obviously. Trust me, the drama and excitement were there. Read between the lines in a few places...

There will be no Captain's log tomorrow. However, those who want to hear what happened, tune in later in the week.

Nearly two years ago - May 2003 to be precise - I was at the Genoa Yacht Charter Show. The medical news a couple of weeks earlier had not been great. I was ready for a big project so that I could "make a difference". My colleague and friend Tamsin Priestley (Mrs. P of Kew sounds too alphabetical and in any case she merits the full name treatment here) said - Sail the Atlantic single-handed. I said no, of course. But that's where it all started. Thank you Tamsin for giving me this life-defining experience.

Karen had the first right to stop the project. If she had said no, I would have dropped it immediately. On the contrary, she never wavered in her support, she kept me going even when endless obstacles appeared and in the last four months especially, she has dedicated every spare hour to being Mission Control - and it ain't over yet. Rosanna, Francesca & Charlie have all played such important parts already - with more to go at a concert in March. And Charlie Baker has reportedly been out today in Falmouth Harbour, working the yachts and requesting donations from unsuspecting captains and crews. I am so proud of all of them - all the time. My parents, Karen's family, my sister and brother and their families have spread the word far and wide and their support and love has been tireless and amazing. What can I say?

There are so many people to whom I am indebted. Please take a minute to look again at the website where we list those companies and individuals who helped to make this project possible and added vital support as it developed. I may have sailed across by myself, but the a rest of it has been a huge team effort.

Ansbacher have their name writ large on the mainsail - without them, no boat. They did a great thing and their enthusiasm for the project has been beyond anything one could have hoped for. Likewise Clyde & Co, who have set up and administered The AquaLung Trust. To them both, my sincere and deepest gratitude.

The final thank you, for now at any rate, is to all of you. I had no idea when this started whether it would work or not. It is you who have made it work, and have given it meaning. By what you have said, by what you have written and by what you have done. I am eternally grateful. 

But it's not about me, it's about the four charities - please keep them in your hearts.

I sat at the bow again this afternoon - with my feet dangling not quite so low as yesterday, having seen a shark pass by earlier in the day. I watched the sun set at the end of the last day out here. It was the most beautiful so far and the sea never looked more majestic.

Two poems tonight. The first by William Stafford, contemporary American and the second by the great Aleksandr Pushkin, translated from the original Russian and slightly edited.

SECURITY 
William Stafford

Tomorrow will have an island. Before night
I always find it. Then on to the next island.
Those places hidden in the day separate
and come forward if you beckon.
But you have to know they are there before they exist.

Some time there will be a tomorrow without any island.
So far, I haven't let that happen, but after
I'm gone others may become faithless and careless.
Before them will tumble the wide unbroken sea,
and without any hope they will stare at the horizon.

So to you, Friend, I confide my secret:
To be a discoverer you hold close whatever
you find, and after a while you decide
what it is. Then, secure in where you have been,
you turn to the open sea and let go.

******

TO THE SEA
Aleksandr Pushkin

Farewell to you, unharnessed Ocean!
No longer will you roll at me
Your azure swells in endless motion
Or gleam in tranquil majesty.

A comrade's broken words on leaving,
His hail of parting at the door:
Your chant of luring, chant of grieving
Will murmur in my ears no more.

How I would love your deep resounding,
The primal chasm's muffled voice,
How in your vesper calm rejoice,
And in your sudden, reckless bounding!

Yet why this sorrow? Toward what fastness
Would now my carefree sails be spread?
To one lone goal in all your vastness
My spirit might have gladly sped.

Farewell then, Sea! Henceforth in wonder
Your regal grace will I revere;
Long will your muffled twilit thunder
Reverberate within my ear.

To woods and silent wildernesses
Will I translate your potent spells,
Your cliffs, your coves, your shining tresses,
Your shadows and your murmurous swells.

******

Wednesday 16th February 2005

Stepped on to dry land at 2pm Antiguan time, 6pm London time. Two large boats and a rescue vessel (just in case!) with family and friends came 10 miles offshore to greet me and accompany me in to dock. An emotional and wonderful reunion followed. Hoorah!

Thursday 17th February 2005

17 degrees 00 minutes North
61 degrees 45 minutes West

2000 hours. English Harbour, Antigua

I do not know how, or indeed if, I will ever be able to do justice in words to the day of my life that was Wednesday 16th February 2005.

It was beyond extraordinary.

For those of you who have not yet had enough of all this, I promise a detailed account while everything is still fresh in my memory. Forgive me if it takes one day more. It will include one last storm with AquaLung rather unexpectedly battling into headwinds, a close encounter with a fishing boat in the dark, a big bird, land being sighted, two rather larger sailing yachts coming out with a welcoming party, boarding parties, entry into English Harbour with escorts, reunions, stepping ashore, more reunions, official welcome, evening reception. I could go on... and I probably will.

Suffice it to say, that with a larger than expected gathering of family and friends, great support from the yachting community and an exceptionally warm welcome from senior representatives of the Government and People of Antigua and Barbuda, it was a day which will live in our memories for ever.

Thank you to those who have sent emails in the last 48 hours - forgive me if it takes a day or so...

Saturday 19th February 2005

Position unchanged since last...

Here we go - with many apologies for the delay (photographs to follow soon).

At around 0030 on the morning of Wednesday 16th February, I took a final look round to make sure all was settled. There was probably less wind than I had seen on any previous occasion the whole way across. The Atlantic swell was still ever present but the surface of the water was almost smooth, no ripple and the reflection of the moon, low in the sky, was unbroken. Less than 100 miles to run. I had kept an hour of time change in hand, so put the clock back then. With a big day ahead, I reckoned that I would have a good night's sleep, with fewer wake up calls than usual in view of the calm conditions. The boat was looking good after a full day of cleaning, polishing and general tidying up.

If proof was ever required that God has a sense of humour, four hours later I was battling into a Force 6 with waves breaking over the bow. 49 miles to go, I was meant to be in bed and the wind was coming at me from the West. For the first time ever. Evidence of my sense of humour was more difficult to find. The radar alarm was overwhelmed by the number of alerts it was putting out, as successive storms entered the eight mile exclusion zone. I attempted to dodge around or between those that I could, but at the speed I can do, there is not too much flexibility. I tested my Musto Caribbean kit to the full in the heavy rain.

Coming out of one patch of disappointingly inclement weather, I saw not far in front of me some lights. Red over white. "Vessel engaged in fishing other than trawling, not making way". Great. Another diversion to avoid this problem, which put me straight back into the next rainstorm. It ain't over until it's over - or, it is said, until the fat lady sings. Bring on a fat lady I pleaded - and make her sing. This was misunderstood. I said a fat lady, not a fat bird. There sitting on the port side deck was a huge bird. I did not see it arrive, but there it was, sitting, blinking at me and making a very unnecessary mess. At this point I contemplated going back to bed and starting the day again.

But it did get better.

Big Bird left an hour or so later, the sea subsided and a degree of normality returned. My twelve hours of cleaning and polishing of the day before, however, were perhaps somewhat wasted. I did indeed go back to bed at around 0700. But not for long. Karen was the first call - at 0745. I fear I may not have been quite as chirpy and welcoming as I should have been in the circumstances. Mark Hilpern was next at 0830 with plans for the day ahead... the welcoming party was gathering on two magnificent sailing yachts, generously lent by their owners for the occasion. The 90ft Boo Too and the 178ft Tiara were making arrangements to head out of Falmouth Harbour in my direction.

The wind was by now coming from the North and AquaLung was fairly racing along. I first saw land at 0957 - and from then on the day is a bit of blur...

The sails of Boo Too and Tiara were visible to me long before they could see my rather more modest rig, but they had me pinpointed on radar and eventually caught sight of my mast on the horizon. The first fly past was by Boo Too, a beautiful 90ft sailing yacht, designed by Ron Holland, built by Pendennis Shipyard in Falmouth UK (and available for charter through Camper & Nicholsons...). We passed each other at some speed, probably no more than a few hundred yards apart. A certain amount of shouting, screaming and jumping up and down, horns blaring...

Next to arrive was the Antigua Rescue Boat, a large fast RIB to act as escort vessel.

Tiara was not far behind. A magnificent Ed Dubois design, she was launched last year by Alloy Yachts of New Zealand and is the largest sloop in the world capable of passing under the Panama Canal bridge. Her stylish arrival - with my family on the top deck - was a spectacular moment.

As we approached closer to land, other yachts and tenders came out to meet us. Jol Byerley's routine morning radio news call had alerted the local yachting community and Nicholson's Yacht Charters and other friends locally had been busy spreading the word. 

Mark Hilpern and Alex Lees-Buckley were transferred from Tiara to AquaLung by tender. Alex had been the last person to step off AquaLung in Las Palmas and was the first back on board this side. It was great to have them both there with me - not least because I had done 3000 miles solo without serious incident and wanted to be sure that the berthing went smoothly - particularly in front of an audience. That they were carrying champagne was an added bonus. 

Just outside English Harbour, Karen arrived by RIB from Tiara. That moment remains private, but I believe there may be the odd photograph.

We carried on into the harbour - to a welcome way beyond anything I had expected. I had rather assumed I would sail in, step off an go for lunch. Not quite so. A loud cheer from all the diners at Catherine's Restaurant and then a gentle manoeuvre into a berth in the historic Nelson's Dockyard. Mark and Alex tidied up my beautiful yacht, to which I owe so much (now seriously for sale - don't miss this opportunity) and I stepped ashore.

Huge.

Rosanna, Francesca and Charlie were right there, along with my mother and mother-in-law, numerous friends from the UK and locally, other yachties and well wishers. I had a warm welcome from Andy McDonald on behalf of the Government and People of Antigua and Barbuda and I did indeed kiss Antiguan soil. It was a few hours more before I hugged a tree.

That evening there was a reception at the Copper & Lumber Store, at which we met so many very generous people. Shirlene Nibbs, Director of Tourism made a charming speech and presented the whole family with two large framed photographs, which had been taken as I arrived earlier.

We went for a fine dinner at HQ2.

It has taken a few days to settle down, we have tested and can report favourably on numerous restaurants in English Harbour and Falmouth Harbour and have experienced the exceptional hospitality of so many people here. Gradually the family and friends have started to return home. The last few fly out tonight (Saturday). 

However, we have just called Virgin Atlantic and postponed tonight's flights for five Bakers, who need a little more time. This will necessitate three telephone calls, to three heads of three schools in England...