Race 1 - Day 28
Crew Diary - Race 1 Day 28: Liverpool to Punta del Este
17 September

Its early morning somewhere off the coast of southern Brazil and Port Watch has just finished one of its most gruelling watches since the start of Leg 1.

Conditions were tricky. The night sky was obscured by grey cloud, reducing visibility to a minimum. The waning moon never appeared. The wind was strong but variable, the air damp and chilling. Our instructions were to keep the boat level, steer to the kite (this is the asymmetric spinnaker we use for downwind sailing) and not deviate more than five or ten degrees from our course. But it nearly proved too much even for our most experienced helmsmen aka 'Mad Mike', 'Cool Hand Clive' and 'Steady as She Goes Jake'. Even with a second man spotting and keeping an eye on the compass, they found it hard to gauge the steering correctly, and there was little room for manoeuvre or deviation. A nasty period occurred relatively early on when in successive moments we thought we might first broach (boom in the water), then gybe (boom swings across the boat) and finally have a kite wrap (spinnaker wraps itself around the mast).

Other roles include trimming (controlling the shape of the sail): when you are doing this, you can't do anything but look up at the kite and at the front of the boat. It was nearly impossible to see and make out whether the sail was trimmed optimally, which occurs when the luff (the edge that runs from the top of the sail to the forward corner or 'tack') stands up straight with a tiny curl along the edge, and the sail's belly is full. One or two people sit or stand by the grinder ready to 'trim on' (grind in the sail). The rest of us sit up on the windward side, ready to act the instant disaster strikes.

Which is a fairly stressful way of spending four hours, especially when you run through what needs to be done, and in what order, and by whom, and realise there aren't really enough crew on deck to perform all the essential tasks: two of our team were on sick leave and a third on mother watch, leaving only seven of us in total including the helmsman and spotter. No time for idle chat, or a quick snooze. There was barely time for me to have a cigarette, or for Ian to eat a couple of Hobnobs and Jan a muesli bar, and we were definitely feeling worried when Dimitry went down below to perform yet another mid-watch wardrobe change. All this was of course interspersed with Wendo's regular 'calls of encouragement' from the companion way, as we lurched from side to side.

But as a hint of dawn lightened the sky, and sounds and smells of breakfast wafted up from the galley we found, somewhat to our amazement, that we had come through the ordeal with tempers and boat pretty much intact. I looked around at the grey seas laced with white froth and the stars that were now shining brightly, and felt peaceful and calm for the first time in hours. Until, that is, I put my hand on a small and very slimy squid lying on the deck.