I had a really fast cruisy night, with lots of good sleep and easy miles. I am really cracked off (a long way off the wind) and if the wind keeps turning will soon be able to put up the spinnaker. I have been missing the gennaker as its the perfect angle, so I am down on polars, but still I now only have 902 miles so I’ve made good progress throughout the night. I have been brushing up on the strategy for the island rounding, which is complicated by a waypoint we need to sail past just off the beach at Basse-Terre.

I had a great night’s sailing last night, spread out on my back in the cockpit watching the cloudless starry expanse. Trimming and humming along with the boat as we finally found a good course and matched the polars. I was up until about 0600 UTC, by which point I was pretty weary and the the boat was being slightly headed from 260 to 230, the ideal course. I went down for a nap and awoke after 30 minutes to the sound of rain. I looked at the computer and saw that the wind had turned dramatically to the right and we had been sailing North (!) while I was asleep rather than the intended southwest. I was draining the ballast, a lengthy procedure after the valve failed on the starting, putting on my jacket to go outside when we were wolloped by a massive gust and a lightning bolt touched down closeby, flash-crash. The anemometer went from 10 to 35, the heel indicator went from 15 to 50 and all loose items self-stowed to leeward, with the first aid kit collecting my head as it went past. I made it into the cockpit, kneeling on its sides as I prepared a tack and then finally got the boat round and managed to bear away from the wind. We were now surfing at speed, the sky alight with fire, the spray from the bow glowing white in the flashbulbs. I realized then, barefoot and sopping wet, with the tallest conductive pole in hundreds of miles, that I was in danger and so was the boat. I ran to turn the electronics off and caught the helm before it wiped out and sat gripping it with a maniacle grin on my face, glinting in the compass light. Yes, I was back! This is what solo sailors have to deal with. Wind shifts whilst asleep. Crazy out of control boats. Our bread and butter problems, but at least I was out of the seemingly ceaseless calms. Then the puffs became little lighter, the mainsheet a little softer and soon the jib lost power. I was left breathless again, the compass whirling, sails slatting. Yeah baby, I was back!

Ok, so here we go!   7 hours 18 hours and counting.

I delivered 40 Degrees around from Lorient to St Malo with my GOR co-skipper Ryan Finn, doing a final test of the systems as we went. We crossed tacks with a couple of other 40s en route as well, and easily took miles out of them while short tacking in the famously tidal Chenal du Four. I have always known that my boat’s strong point is upwind, but to reel in another competitor while in delivery mode was a big confidence boost before being locked in  port before the start.

I will be sending regular snapshots of life in the village in the coming days. Here are a couple of shots from our preparations.

Radio de la mer CC

Click the link to hear my first radio interview in French! I spoke with Radio de la Mer in Lorient about my Route du Rhum preparation.