34o11N 52o24W

One of BP Explorer's mottos is 'control the controllables'. It has served us well, but for much of the time over recent days it has been more a case of reacting to the hand we are dealt. We had day after day of glassy, carribbean-blue waters, negligible - or even negative - speeds towards Boston and ripples of restless boredom amongst those torturing their weary bottoms on the rail. Then, the night before last, we went from swimming-pool-flat waters to reaching along under the flanker. Somebody had switched the wind on. Then they changed their minds and turned it off again. The spinnaker was out of its bag, flying, down the companionway and back in its bag in less time than it takes to nip out for as pint of milk.

And, as the scheds have shown all too clearly, if the wind can change so radically over a couple of hundred yards, it is not surprising that the yachts fighting it out behind BG SPIRIT and VAIO are playing musical chairs.

If I had a bit more self-discipline I would avoid looking at the figures until the situation regains some semblance of normality, especially when they read as they did half an hour ago, putting us back from fourth to eighth. But for now it is in some ways meaningless; less than seven miles separate us from third and we have at least made gains on Imagine it. Done. in third. The wind that we are currently enjoying will help us knock a few more miles off before daylight. Then, after tomorrow's return to light winds, a gale is predicted to serve as the introduction to the final few days of the voyage.

Sunday saw the last of the alcohol come and go with Christian's birthday, so it was with some relief that we passed on to the right side of '1,000 miles to the waypoint' yesterday afternoon - Boston is now 946 miles distant.

Right on cue to rouse Chris from his worries about ageing, we were also treated to yet more wildlife; every time that he talked about wanting to go for a birthday swim another shark would appear. Several sperm whales also kept us company, spouting in the sunshine, and yesterday we saw our first turtle - swimming in an ungainly, flapping kind of way past the hull, one leathery 'arm' in the air, waving us on. 'Hurry up,' he seemed to be saying. 'They're waiting for you!'