Race 1 - Day 26
Crew Diary - Race 1 Day 26: Liverpool to Punta del Este
15 September

Well. There we were at the Equator and I bet you are thinking merciless sun and breathless nights. Such were our expectations too but actually we crossed the line (on my watch) on a sunny day not unlike a cool June in the Channel. The boat was on its ears treading the stately dance between underpowered (no part of the guard rail under water) and overpowered (all of the guard rail under the water). We all whooped and squealed but King Neptune delayed his visit, finding movement at the precarious angle we live at more than he could handle.

Thereafter we have continued on this tack and are learning to live with it. This produces some techniques which may be surprising. Night watches are particularly enchanting. The steps to below decks are covered by a light proof curtain to hide the red light from the sensitive night vision of our helms people who need to steer by stars and dim instruments. When visitors from below decks (largely Skipper Bob) visit, they look for all the world like a cat coming through a cat flap. You instinctively check to see if they have a dead mouse in their mouth. Mostly they don't.

Unless we are doing something rash such as putting in reefs (not really a Unicef thing to do), or unless you are steering, there is not a great deal to do on watch apart from being "ballast". I am very good, for entirely natural reasons, at being ballast. This requires you sitting or lying on the highest side of the deck, nearly 20 feet vertically above the guard rail and the water. You strap yourself onto the highest point you can and then wedge your feet on a winch or other ledge. The most comfortable place for doing this is a little way forward where you can wedge yourself into a lying position, put your hood up and snuggle into your foulies and enjoy a long peaceful sleep. (Lying also reduces pressure on the sensitive Yachty Botty places many of us have developed). The price you pay is that you have become the breakwater for the rest of the crew with every breaking wave covering you and leaving them protected. Meanwhile the boat is crashing through really quite big seas completely on its side and bouncing. That you can still sleep is testament not really to our exhaustion - because to be honest we are not exhausted - but to the degree of comfort we have now being on the ocean. Similarly, the sunrise watch can be found peacefully drinking coffee while strapped to the top rail watching a foamy mayhem develop below them. Just like a hugely dysfunctional Starbucks.

However, what was not comfortable was being punched on the cheekbone by a flying fish - felt like Mike Tyson on a good day. I was also punched on the nose by a flying pot of mustard seeds in the galley which I suppose serves me right for being a pretentious Victualler. But at the end of the day we crawl into our bunks and dream of giant fish being curried and what it must be like to have a loo which is stationary. Another day and another total immersion in ocean travel.

Alison Ryan