Leg 2 Day 10 : Cape Horn here we come - eta 10 hours 55°59'43.3"S 67°09'09.5"W

I cannot imagine being in the shoes of heroic Mary Patten when, after putting to sea on her second voyage, her husband, Joshua, collapsed during a storm as they approached Cape Horn in the early autumn of 1856. Captain of the huge clipper ship the Neptune's Car (a three-masted, 200-foot vessel, whose largest sail measured a staggering 70 feet across), Joshua rapidly became too ill to command the ship, and Mary, just 19 years of age and expecting her first child, recognised that the fate of the Neptune's Car, the crew, and her ailing husband lay in her hands.

As luck would have it, thanks to instruction from an enlightened Joshua on her first voyage, Mary was well versed in the art of navigation; she knew how to read the wind and tides, how to calculate the ship's position with sextant and chronometer, how to work out a course to steer and how to record the ship's progress. Drawing on these skills, and earning the loyalty of the anxious crew with an impressive display of oratory delivered from the poop deck, she got on with the job of dealing with everything which the cruel sea (and a mutinous first mate) could throw at her. She finally helmed the vessel into San Francisco Bay on 15 November and was soon besieged by admiring reporters.

In a tragic twist of fate, Mary was to lose her husband just four months after the birth of their son - named after his father - and although she managed to survive the ordeal of the Southern Ocean, it had taken its toll on her health. She died of consumption shortly before her 25th birthday.

It is difficult to overestimate the scale of Mary Patten's achievement. 'Below 40 degrees there is no law, below 50 degrees there is no God' so the saying goes. Cape Horn, the deepest continental point on the planet, lying almost at the bottom of the world in the 'furious fifties' and just 500 miles from Antarctica, certainly sounds like a Godless place!

Here, where the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans meet to do battle in storms that occur on average for 200 days of the year, waves regularly top 65 feet and have been known, on rare occasions, to reach an unimaginable 120 feet.

It is not simply a case of two oceans meeting, however. A multitude of factors combine to lend Drake's Passage - the 400-mile-wide stretch of water between the Horn and Antarctica - its ferocity. The Andes mountains form an effective block, 1,200 miles wide, to the predominantly westerly winds, forcing them south through the gap which is Drake's Passage. And whilst the wind funnelling through this narrow gap gathers pace, to too do the already rapid currents, which are made all the more stormy due to the steep shelving of the sea bed. Francis Chichester makes a useful comparison: 'It is like the sea breaking on the beach at Bournemouth in a gale, except that the waves, instead of being 4 feet high, are likely to be 60 feet high.'

The effect of all of this is that, for the modern sailor, the experience of Cape Horn is often an uncomfortable if momentous occasion. In the great age of sail, however, it was for many a fatal journey - more than 10,000 souls have been lost rounding the Horn.

The significance of the day is not lost on the crew of BP Explorer as we prepare to join the relatively slender ranks of those who have not only had the privilege of rounding the Horn, but of doing it the 'wrong way' - i.e. east to west, against the prevailing winds and currents. Nobody back home need worry too much about our safety - we have our Goretex layers to protect us against consumption and all manner of instruments (not to mention David!) instead of a Mary Patten to get us to where we are going - but think of us as you gather around the fire with the sideways rain on the other side of the window. Out here the albatross are getting bigger by the day and the icy winds are beginning to blow.

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The crew of BP Explorer are now offical Cape Horners

Leg 2 Day 9 : 55°00'00.0"S 65°20'00.0"W

Two hours ago when we came on watch, the Straits de la Maire looked set to become a complete night-mare. Having gone to our beds with Me To You very much within reach and VAIO on the horizon, we emerged from the warmth of our pits to find the enemy all around us! 'Basically the Straights de la Maire have turned into one big parking lot for Challenge yachts,' declared David when I asked him for an update at 0200 local time. 'There are six yachts visible and all the rest are more or less within VHF range. It's a bit of a headache this windhole, depending on who you are of course.' The tide and the fickle winds have held everyone up. Having arrived in the Straights with the kite flying in a westerly breeze and caught up those in front, we promptly stopped and stuck fast in the frosty seas off Tierra del Fuego whilst others then caught us in the same way. Surrounded by mountains, seals, dolphins and a steel-grey and pink dawn, the air punctuated with seabirds of all kinds, our wonderful surroundings were strangely at odds with our frustration. It seemed ironic to pull in next to the Bay of Great Success, but in fact now it appears that this might be more apt than we previously hoped. Things change so fast. Just a watch ago we were pounding through big seas, fighting to get through the sail changes and reefs with hands which refused to work any more in the penetrating cold. Now, two hours into the new watch, we have a light wind and have narrowly avoided being caught by Team Stelmar (close enough for a chat... no doubt they smelt our early-morning flapjack feast too!), we have overhauled Me To You and are now rapidly hunting down VAIO. 'This is no time for tea! See that light over there,' says the skipper, 'that's third - let's go and get it!' Naomi Cudmore

Leg 2 Day 8 : 52°36'00.0"S 63°26'00.0"W

One week in and we know we're approaching the Horn now. The temperature has dropped considerably and the jobs on deck are ten times more difficult. Cold fingers make hanking on a sail painful and thick clothing means just moving around is a bigger drain on energy than normal. In the constantly changing winds we are changing headsails at a rapid pace. As we went on one watch today we changed from a Genoa to hanking on the number one Yankee, to removing it, hoisting the number two, preparing the number three and finally dropping the number two and hoisting the number one in the space of about 40 minutes. The previous watch had been through three different spinnakers before settling with the Genoa. We are about 140 nautical miles from Staten Island where we hope to pass through the Straits de la Maire with the tide and thus keep or better our third place position. Team Stelmar have swapped places with Barclays Adventurer on the horizon and are keeping us on our toes constantly. Naomi introduced her watch yesterday and I will do the same now: Olly Browett - Watch leader and the youngest member of the crew, he has plenty of sailing experience which makes him a natural choice to lead the watch. Helmsman and occasionally on the bow when he's not looking at the numbers. On the Bow John Bass (Bass to avoid confusion when the other John is on deck). I occupy the no 1 position, trim the headsails, scribble these logs and generally look after technical stuff like the e-mail system onboard. Colin Barber (one of the BP Crew) Colin is the number two on the bow occasionally swapping with Holger. He is also our pole monkey; regularly scaling the forestay and perching at the end of the pole for spinnaker peels. At the Helm Holger Bindel - Medic (when you can get an appointment) Helm, main trimmer and is often seen on the bow in the no 2 position. Rob Phillips - Helm and safety officer. Rob has many a story tell we just wish we could understand his broad Northern accent. In the Snake Pit Goldie Raley - Part of a crack two girl team in the 'pit' and in charge of sail repair and maintenance. Laura Alexander - works the pit with Goldie and has clothed the team in everything we need. At the Nav' table Stephen Allberry - Navigator and veritable encyclopaedia of interesting facts. John Bass

Leg 2 Day 7 : 500 miles to Cape Horn 50°32'12.6"S 65°02'42.7"W

By the time that you read this we will be 60 miles off the Falklands and heading for the Straits of the Maire between Tierra del Fuego and Staten Island - which is a short hop, just 100 miles, from Cape Horn. If there were background music on deck right now it would probably be the very faint sound of the Jaws signature tune just over the horizon. And the tension - although masked by more than the usual dose of ribald humour (it must be something in the food) - is twofold. Firstly, we are fast approaching a key tactical moment in the leg; the Straits of the Maire form a tidal gate which could propel us away from our pursuers or rein us back as anyone in front plunges straight for the Horn and those behind make fast gains on our lead. It all depends on when we get there... and in what order. We are currently lying third, although this is changing constantly, and of course we hope to reach the Straits with the strong tide aiding us. It will be a mountainous challenge to claw back the distance if this does not go our way, and we are doing everything in our power to give ourselves the best chance. Emotions are also bubbling away - firstly excitement - because here we are, just two days off the Cape, and this is what we came for. It looks set to live up to its cruel reputation. Put simply, we are expecting a gale late Saturday as a dress rehearsal, then a day's respite (just long enough for us to take our weekly shower and get clean for our celebration), before, right on cue, another gale hits us full in the face as we turn right at the bottom of South America. The albatross are getting bigger, we are nearly there... The Watch As we approach the Horn I should probably introduce those on my 'watch' - apologies for not doing this before - and I am sure that John will introduce the other half of the crew tomorrow. Our watch: 'Cop' (David Pugh) - watch leader and head helm (very dodgy Bjorn Borg hairdo right now, boat's bosun) Chris (Christian Talpo) - No 1 at the bow, head trimmer, mainsheet apprentice (a coffee perfectionist - being Italian - and style assistant to the crew) Rich (Richard Wardley) - No 2 at the bow, second trimmer (always but always says please and thank you! Techy expert) Giles Mackey (BP Crew) - No 3 in bow team, snakepit apprentice (as we speak baking bread for the first time - we'll let you know how it goes) John Stewart - No 4 in bow team, mainsheet boss (best spinnaker packer in the west, accommodation boss for port) Major Malhi - No 5 in bow team (curry genius, best porridge award, entertainments officer) Naomi Cudmore - snakepit boss, helm (on-board scribe, hygiene police & in charge of all cosmetic purchasing) Jane Cook - helm, trimmer (Delia of the boat, head of all consumables, menus and snack disputes) Andrew Smith - navigator, helm (the 'Michael Fish' of our watch) Naomi Cudmore

Leg 2 Day 6 : 46°35'00.0"S 59°41'00.0"W

 The Roaring Forties are, for us at least, purring like a contented kitten sometimes even sleeping with just the occasional sigh. These are not the best of racing conditions and make for frustrating and tiring watches as we try every sail for best performance and to maintain our position. Some of the fleet are starting to separate behind us but with five yachts spread in a long line some 60 miles apart we are a long way from a 'comfortable' lead and it too changes like the winds. Barclays Adventurer stalk us to our left like the

posse after Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and BG SPIRIT and Samsung are out on the edges of the line experiencing either more or less favourable conditions than those in the middle. It makes it difficult to say who has the best position.

 

Of the five frontrunners only eight and a half miles between us decided who is officially in first place. A bit like the horse racing machines at the amusement arcades, each horse occasionally searing ahead only to slow and be overtaken by another making betting on a winner difficult. These are testing times and it is a testament to how well we are working together that we have the same crew (bar the leggers/BP Explorer crew) as when we left Portsmouth. It does mean we can move forward in our effectiveness as a team. The first leg saw us getting to know each other and honing the procedures on deck.

 

This leg is much more about tweaking things, making them faster and focusing on safety onboard. We have taken a leaf from our sponsor's book and are operating a daily safety briefing in which we analyse and document safety issues. The safer we are the less likely we are to get injured and break things on the boat. With the top five yachts so close together and the rest not that far behind it really is a case of the one that cocks up the least will be the most likely to get a podium place.

We have already seen that injury and damage is directly proportional to success in the last leg and were witness to one mistake leading to Me to You blowing a kite during a peel. They were within clear view and threatening to pass us but are now 17 miles behind us.

The layers are starting to pile on now as the temperature drops. What were shorts and T-shirts are now Musto Gore-Tex mid layers (like ski suits), Windstopper hats and fleece gloves. Below decks we have moved from lightweight sleeping bags to winter ones. No more near naked bodies on sweaty bunks and things that were once covered by a thin silk sleeping bag liner are now safely tucked away and protected from the frost.

John Bass

Leg 2 Day 4 : 41°51'00.0"S 57°26'00.0"W

The first 48 hours of a leg are tough even when conditions are favourable. Just getting back into the watch system puts the body through turmoil both mentally and physically. Faces of the crew look drawn even if they have got some sleep and the sailing muscles having been worked for the first time in several weeks now ache. We work just as hard throughout the race it just seems harder in the first couple of days. The first nightmare watch has come early in the leg again. The worst ones are at night where the pitch darkness makes things even more difficult and natural tiredness makes the reaction times that little slower until the adrenalin kicks in. What should have been a routine spinnaker gybe got all together more complicated when the sheet and guy failed to release from the end of the pole when the tripping line was pulled. For some reason, we are still not sure why, the sheet got tangled around the end of the pole and began sawing its way through the foreguy. The pole had to come down quickly and the only way to do it was to edge it bit by bit down the mast at the inboard end. When it finally got to the base of the mast it had to be brought back to the cockpit because it was the wrong side of the sheet to come down in the normal way. The frantic pulling of the trip line had jammed the mechanism in the pole and needed to be sorted before the pole could be then be safely stowed again. Below decks the off watch were rolled in their bunks and the all too familiar sounds of something not going to plan reverberated around the boat. Half dreaming, half awake you are not sure whether to get up or stay where you are and get some sleep - though getting to sleep is not a real option because you are conscious that at any moment you could be required to help out. Coming on watch your fellow crew tell you of the evening's events and you are thankful that it's all sorted as you pat them on the back and wish them a good sleep. Thankfully we had not lost too much ground. Spirit of Sark have edged ahead but they are only just in front of us and spirits raised after a good sleep the watches swap once more and the first thing to be announced is "our mission today is to get ahead of Spirit of Sark" We saw a group of ten or more whales yesterday, some sea lions and several Albatross, a good day nature-wise. The skies have been shrouded by cloud for most of the day, which gives us timely relief from the searing sun that even the factor 50 fails to totally protect us from. We have a great crew and skipper onboard BP Explorer and every day we sail together we improve as a team both personally and technically. This has already been shown in how much more relaxed David is with us and we are with each other and David. This leg will stretch us further than we've been stretched before but we are ready - bring it on. John Bass

Leg 2 Day 2 : 37°47'00.0"S 56°27'00.0"W

This log (and those that follow) come to you from the 'graveyard shift' - the '2-6-er'. As friends and family move the pins in their globes back home, the logs are written earlier and earlier in the morning here on BP Explorer to arrive by 0900 GMT. Thus you may be hearing more about moonlight than sunrises, and your writers may be somewhat sleepier as they type quietly away by the night light which lends the media suite a red glow and anyone beavering away 'downstairs' the look of a submariner! The name of the game right now is making the best out of light winds. Not that this will be a long-term pattern of events; it is definitely the calm before the storm, as much heavier winds are forecast in the not-too-distant future. Those on mother watch (cooking and cleaning) are for once thanking their lucky stars that it is their go at the domestics, for they are able to work with the comfort of calm seas and a flat boat. At the top of the companionway steps meanwhile, we have been concentrating on keeping our attention on performance and 'controlling the controllables'. At 1800 local time we could see ten out of the eleven other boats - a situation which could easily make it hard to stay focused - but we have done our level best not to take our eye off the ball. Between 2100 and 2200 we decided that a gybe was in order then reflected that we should cover the other boats out to the east instead. Spirit of Sark later gybed behind us and as we prepared to follow in their wake the wind obligingly shifted, so we held our course and saved valuable time by avoiding the gybe. We have been level pegging with Spirit of Sark ever since; and although technically the position reports at 0145 GMT (1045 local time) had us in first place, it is a close-run thing. Now, one hour into the watch, we can see the lights of just two other boats - Spirit of Sark to port and Me To You (who earlier gave us a good run for our money) a little further out to starboard. Up on the wall in the saloon galley, have a few amusing pictures of our antics at sea (and in port!), and we also have a few aims for different stages of the long voyage ahead to New Zealand. Without giving too much away, the first reads 'top three out of the River Plate'. We have managed to achieve this by steering from brown waters out into the deep blue in second. The task now is to up the concentration, prepare for a blow and stick out our necks as we head south. Next stop, Cape Horn! Naomi Cudmore