Leg 2 Day 24 : 52 29S 129 56W

The phrase 'going away for Christmas this year' does little justice to our adventure right now - there is the romantic mini-break to escape the in-laws and then there is the extreme extended break for 18 - romantic, but in an entirely different way. Two days ago BP Explorer was as far from land as you can get on the planet. Picture the biggest bit of ocean on your spinning globe (the one that you are all lovingly sticking pins into Blue-Peter style) and that will be us! 'Remote' seems a very small word to describe just how isolated we are. I am sure that each and every crew member visualises our track across this vast blue in different ways; we all see the numbers up on screen every day - latitude, longitude, nautical miles to New Zealand (currently 2,350), sea depth (3,812 metres) and so on - but there is something surreal about the whole experience, something that the facts and figures do not convey and which is deeply personal although shared in such a confined space. Admittedly, there are times when it is easy for us all to forget that we are in the Southern Ocean - today, for example, we have had light and fickle winds, have flown our spinnakers and are right now slipping silently through the iron-grey sea with barely a whisper of wind in our genoa. And the New Zealand forecast predicts a sedate 15 knots from the north-west on Christmas Eve - perfect decorating weather after the gales on their way for Wednesday and Thursday. But then, apart from the bashings from wind and waves which come with guaranteed regularity, we do get a reminder that we have indeed truly 'gone away' for Christmas - the same New Zealand forecasters today predicted 15 large icebergs sighted at 52o36S - further north than us, although far out to the west, and in the same breath NZ informed us of an 'Area temporarily dangerous to navigation from falling spacecraft from 22nd December 2230 UTC to 23rd December 0030.' Again, we are even further south of this sea area which has presumably been chosen as a suitable place to receive space debris due to its great distance from anywhere. Yet for all our isolation we do not feel alone. The boat is a hive of activity round the clock and even when the wind dies, the deck seems to be swept by gales of laughter as we get into the Christmas mood. The racing is more intense than ever. Just to our right we can see the masthead light of BG (according to the last scheds we had overtaken them after our waypoint disappointment), we are trying to creep up on Spirit of Sark unnoticed and we are battling to increase our new lead on VAIO, although this is not helped by the wind hole we now find ourselves in (as we are sandwiched between two low-pressure systems). Shops and last-minute Brussels sprouts peeling sessions we can live without for one year, but if there is one thing we would all love for Christmas, it is a crack at clean air ahead and first position! Naomi Cudmore