Ah, the southern ocean of legend. We had pysched ourselves up for a big blow, a heavy spinnaker run after we turned the corner of the ice gate to dive into the deep south were waves are as big as houses and dragons roam the uncharted waters. However so far Mother Nature has been indifferent to our thrill seeking has instead turned out a pearler of a day. Sam and I have been plenty busy despite the lack of natural drama. We passed the end of the ice gate and in one fluid motion furled the gennaker, hoisted the jib, hoisted the reaching spinnaker and dropped the jib again. And….. the GPS’s number kept rolling on, a silent witness to our picture perfect mark rounding. The albatross continued to whirl overhead, the water continued to sparkle lightly. The miles roll by.

I climbed the mast to retrieve and replace the chafed fractional spinnaker halyard and then passed my afternoon merrily splicing and recovering its replacement tip. At the mast head I searched ahead and behind for our tormenting companions but the sea was ours. Underlying the cruisy sunny day is still the silent competitive drive to make improve our position every 3 hours, and constant searching of the forecasts for a leg up on the others. The weather might not be extreme, but the racing is great and we’re not asking for our money back.

With our days an ever revolving cycle of sleeping, eating and sailing and very little else, each takes on outsized importance in the absense of other stimuli, like a blind man who heightened senses allow him to evesdrop on Hong Kong. With Campaign de France just a couple of miles to leeward, trimming is exact and we’re hoping to stop yo-yoing with them and try to extend as strategic options open up towards the end of the ice gate. Sleep becomes glorious activity, to be treasured every moment possible. They’re not a sponsor, but I need to say that Ocean Sleepwear sleeping bags are the way to go. And then there’s food. We’ve done a good job of making day bags with chocolate, biltong (for the non-vege on board) and dried fruit to accompany the standard fare of freeze dried food.
For this leg I have some new meals that have “sauce” sachets in the main pack. Personally I think that seperating our one packet of freeze dried dust from the primary dusty pouch is an exercise in futility, but at least Backpackers Pantry thinks that I’m looking for something to do to occupy my day. What irritates me however is the suggestion that I prepare said “sauce” in a seperate containe while the primary meal is “cooking” (“add hot water and stir” doesn’t bring to mind Jamie Oliver) and then pour it over afterwards. I’m sorry, but drizzling sauce is not something one does in a kitchen comprised of a camping stove in a composite box. Anyways, its not possible to get all Naked Chef here anyways, its too bloody cold to get my kit off!
Ah well, surely its my time to do another part of the sleep, eat, sail cycle. All the best from Cessna in the South.

This race just keeps getting better. Not only have we been able to rejoin the leaders after our easterly sojourn but we are now sailing in the sun in the south with Miranda and Halvard as our Sunday morning neighbors. They took up residence last night on our port quarter and we chased each other through the night in bursts of spray like the lolling tongues of sprinting greyhounds. With their starboard mast head light clearly visible less than 4 miles away we had a constant companion as the black clouds rolled over us and the gusts built. Having a competitor so close after four days at sea is thrilling, and adds a distinct sense of urgency to our actions that has to be forced when a boat might be fighting for the lead but from the other side of the ocean.

The Fields have just gybed at 42′S and we are now all converging on our southerly border for a gybing workout until we are free to go south again by the end of the ice gate. On the whole conditions are moderate with winds rarely above 30 kts and for the moment the temperature is tolerable, although a brief respite that today’s sun has brought from our habitual chill is certainly welcome. There was a bit of a fuss by the skippers about the introduction of such a coservative ice gate, but having just suffered through two of the coldest and wettest nights of my life I can appreciate the gift from the race organizers!