Date: 29.05.03

UTC: 1300

Pstn: N 23.34, W 058.06

Track: 037

Wind: ESE 7-10kn

Wx: Sun

Cloud: 15%

Bar:1017

Temp: 27C

24 hr run: 144nm

Current BS: 5.8kn

Day 5

All awake at 0600 drinking coffee and comparing nightmares. Still creaming along at 7kn , hard onto the east wind, but the forecast is looking to drop soon as we creep towards the centre of the huge Azores High covering the whole W part of the Atlantic. Ross, aka Beard 3 has finally discarded the seabands and gone back to his usual diet, ascertaining a hitherto unpublished fact that seconds at every mealtime is an unbeatable cure for seasickness. To test his theory to the limit, tonight he will be cooking the 15lb Wahoo we caught at dusk last night, and the next, and the next?

Simply the best news is that the hitherto barred and bolted heads has been re-opened for business, thanks to a reduction in wave height, and the bucket has been returned to fish cleaning duties. Cap’n Stewie, aka Beard 1 has promised to let us use some of the fresh water to sluice the fish guts out of the lazarette lockers, so maybe it won’t be like sitting in Grimsby harbour on a hot day in the cockpit anymore. With any luck tomorrow we’ll even get to pour a litre or two over our now putrifying bodies, instead of sharing the same ‘Wet One’ for two days. I think I’ll check out the dead watermakers tomorrow – maybe we can encourage one to produce enough drips to share a communal washing up bowl.

Day 6

B1 & B3 are now short-tacking the boat alternatively towards Africa, then Cuba in a useless attempt at swilling the fish guts down the cockpit drains. The level of swearing is reaching that of an Irish theme pub, which is hosting the Walton-on-the-Naze rugby tour, so my guess is things are not going to plan as usual. Ah! A call for the First Aid Kit, I knew I shouldn’t have let them loose with sharp objects like a particularly threatening industrial pan scourer.

Well must go now before it all becomes my fault for being a mamby-pamby journo. Now, where’s the camera? DK