BP Explorer is reaching an arrow straight on a course across the North East trades. 322 True takes us straight to Boston and our average speed is around 9.8kts. The spinnakers are safely packed away and sturdy yellow sails power the boat. Some of the easiest miles across the ocean that we have ever had. It has been this way for 48 hours and looks set for another 48 hours. During these 4 days we hope to cover some 1000 miles towards the finish. Stress free miles they may be, but it takes some concentration.
On watch there is a constant flow of information:
''Are you on course?'' calls the headsail trimmer who stands midway up the yacht staring at the tell tales on the headsails.
''I am high'' replies the helmsman and then ''that is course'' as the yacht is nudged down 5 degrees onto the 335 compass.
''In on the headsail'' calls the trimmer again.
The headsail winchman responds with ''Coming in on the yankee'' and grinds in around 4cm of rope.
''Hold'' comes the call from the trimmer.
''How's the mainsail?'' questions the helm.
''Looks good' answers the main trimmer.
In front of the helm are six displays providing 7 different types of information and less they forget a large sign that proclaims ''HELM ARE YOU FOCUSED?''
We are trying to sail 1 percent faster than the opposition. Sailing at 10 knots, being 1 percent better than the others would see us gain 0.6 miles in six hours = 2.4 miles in 24 hours. In four days we would have gained 9.6 miles and regained the lead we lost in the doldrums. You wouldn't think it would be so difficult. I mean 1 percent, who's going to notice? But it is difficult and not always possible. Some watches we manage it, some we don't. But we can't expect to do it all the time; the others are trying just the same. This is how difficult and competitive this race has become. We are finding it hard to go 1 percent faster than the boats around us.
These gains and losses are calculated by the navigators and they periodically appear on deck to inform the helms to ''Come up 5'' depending upon how our overall course on the computer charts are showing. This constant flow of information around the deck is the sound of a successful racing boat. Silence is a sign that the crew have stopped working.
It's not particularly quiet down below either. For over 8 hours a day the generator clatters noisily away providing power to the battery chargers and watermaker. The watermaker high-pressure pump whines away and there is a persistent hiss of water through the filters which operate at 850psi. In the aft accommodation two budget fans (acquired in Cape Town) are permanently on and the sound of their cheap motors creates a noise not unlike sitting in the back of a 747 long haul. The combined effect is that of a floating factory, where the workforce struggle to be heard above the machinery. The good news is that this loud background noise down below is also kind of hypnotic and can send you off to sleep - which is where I'm going.
Footnote: The regular calls of the headsail trimmer were replaced last night by an surprised and distressed ''Jesus Christ, bloody hell, what the, oh my eye'' Like King Harold in 1066, Stephen Albury the headsail trimmer had been struck in the eye by a flying fish and had to be relieved of his task and sent down below. This morning he is nursing a very red and inflamed eye. This has provided the crew with much amusement and even Stephen is laughing about it today. Inevitably this has become known as ''The Curious Incident of the Fish in the Night time''
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