Leg 2 Day 37 : Wellington, NZ

Wow!!!!!!!! Focus, tension, excitement and finally relief - that's how the 10 hours after my last log felt. I had just finished writing my log, when I found out we were only 8 miles behind the leaders. I was shocked; we'd worked so hard over the previous few days and our gains had been painfully small. I thought, maybe we'll get a chance to pile on the pressure over the last few miles... Then I went on deck to begin my watch. It was 6am and I got my first glimpse of New Zealand's rugged mossy green slopes, under the dramatic and foreboding clouds of storms past, or to come. The sun was just rising and the cloudy horizon had a straw gold warmth and pink tinge - it was beautiful, one of the most beautiful scenes I've ever seen, significantly enhanced by the sight of land and all that means when you have been at sea for 37 days. My thoughts were drifting. Then, the boat started to heel dramatically, the wind leapt from 5 to 25 knots and it was back into action, changing down sails to control the boat as the weather rapidly deteriorated. Out of nowhere, came the unmistakeable yellow sails of a Challenge yacht, about a mile behind us. Had the trailing fleet caught us, surely not, but it couldn't be BG SPIRIT or Spirit of Sark...?? It was. Without even a second to grab the binoculars and confirm its identity, we knew it had to be one of the leaders. All the hard work had paid off and for once, luck had bestowed kind winds and the opportunity to prove ourselves - it was going to be a close, tense 100 miles. I felt an incredible sense of concentration and focus - I wanted to win. We had the opportunity and I really believed we could steal victory from under the noses of Spirit of Sark and BG SPIRIT. I sensed the rest of the crew felt the same - we wanted to give it our best shot. People, who'd minutes ago gone off watch for a well-deserved rest came back on deck - they wanted to be part of it, they wanted to win too. The conditions kept worsening; the sea state was horrible, steep violent waves that threw our boat around, our bow submerged in a white aggressive foam. The wind hit 50 knots on the nose - amazingly, these were the worst conditions we'd experienced since leaving Argentina. Yet, I felt good, weeks of hard slog and fatigue meant nothing now. I was powered by adrenaline and so were my crewmates. We were all on deck, sitting on the rails, every kilo of body weight being used to control our heel and facilitate maximum forward speed. Spirit of Sark appeared on the horizon, 2-3 miles ahead. We battled, changed sails, matching our opponents tack for tack. The bright orange handkerchief, our storm staysail was dropped, a sure sign of extreme conditions. I was clutching onto the metal stay removing the hanks as a helicopter circled filming the drama from above. Sometimes we gained, sometimes we dropped back. We were zeroed in on Spirit of Sark and glancing nervously backwards at BG SPIRIT. 6 hours later as we passed Bluff Point, the approach to Wellington Harbour, we were still in the same positions and the tension had not abated. I was beginning to wane from the effort of constant sail changes, 2 or 3 times we'd come close to losing a sail overboard, the massive waves that swept the bow claiming everything that was not securely tethered - thank goodness for my safety harness. I munched some hobnobs and cereal bars, the last of our 'treats' and I felt good again. Spirit of Sark had slipped a mile or 2 head, and BG SPIRIT was nipping at our heels. We tacked to the outer edges of the channel, our navigator popping up every few minutes to shout a warning or an instruction to tack. I was on the yankee sail winch, the biggest foresail. Our winches were creaking and screaming, clogged with salt from the southern ocean - even they wanted a rest. It was about 1pm now, Spirit of Sark had just finished and we had one final tack to make, the crucial final tack that would determine our position. Earlier a ferry had crossed our bow forcing us to tack early and allowing BG SPIRIT to get close, too close. The pressure on this tack was enormous; it had to be perfect. I could see the tension on our skipper's face, we all felt it, he shouted 'lee ho' - we tacked. It was good, but had we left an opening for BG SPIRIT to cut in on the inside of the point? They were trying hard, we watched nervously. As we passed the headland we saw the depth meter drop, it was going to be very close. Then BG SPIRIT swerved away, their valiant gamble had not paid off; we'd left them no room to get past. As we crossed the finishing line, lead weights dropped from our shoulders and we spontaneously yelled, screamed and leapt with joy and relief. We'd done it. 6518 Nm later, we'd arrived in the 'Windy City', 30 minutes behind Spirit of Sark and 2mins30secs before BG SPIRIT. It was an exhilarating feeling. We watched the crowds of green t-shirts on the docks cheer and shout congratulations, an amazing welcome from supporters who'd been up all night to watch the drama. Even now, a day and half later, as I write this last log I feel the emotion of the moment well up inside me. I will never, never forget this day. So, what now. After docking, gorging on some REAL food and a beer (just 1, honest!), we are coming to terms with our achievement. We are immensely proud. A team of amateur sailors, who 12 months ago barely knew each other, sailed safely, happily and fast (almost fastest!) along the most infamous stretch of water on our planet. We have achieved a lot, relationships forged, confidence strengthened. And the best thing, there are 5 more legs to go!!!! Thanks to all our family, friends and supporters - you have been with us on this journey and your support has egged us on, you are our 19th crewmember. Giles Mackey