Leg 2 Day 17 : 55 47S 101 20W

Come Hell and High Water 

The voice of the wind has by this time worked itself up into a constant banshee chorus which screams through each scrap of sailcloth, every wire of the straining rigging, and wails across the myriad boiling surfaces of the sea. It is lost for a moment in the huge breaking waves which heap up in all directions, their blown foam mingling with the tiny prions which weave in and out of sight around the pitching horizon. My lifeline - which hangs from a handrail on the high side of the snakepit (where, by turns, Laura, Goldie and myself do our 'stuff') - pulls taught as the boat is launched off the back of a picture-book wave and slides down into the trough, 40 feet below. The perfectly-curved crest is green, translucent and roaring as it breaks over the bow and plunges towards my stinging face. Six legs - belonging to Rich, Giles and Major - disappear briefly from my view as they are submerged in the cold, cold water. Upright again, they continue fighting down the staysail, which snaps angrily against sheet and shroud, struggling to keep their balance, and a weather eye open for the next punching wall of water. The snakepit is a great place to duck down out of the worst of it, but only if you can crouch low and turn your back on the wind. Whilst easing out the rope and awaiting the hand-signal for 'halyard made' from Rich, I force myself to keep standing and looking forwards, the salt all the while burning my eyeballs, whilst an unfriendly concoction of snow, hail and spray pound already raw nose and cheeks. Ridiculously I realise that I am now also crying (which at least is warm) - because everything is so Goddamn hard, so very heavy and so unrelenting. For today at least I have had my fill. My arms feel like they are about to come out of their sockets. I remind myself that if I think this is hard I want to try being up there on the foredeck - once they have this sail down and back, the boys have to take the storm staysail forwards and hank it on in a rising wind. They have already done three sail changes this watch. I am too nervous in weather like this to take even the briefest of trips up there; I silently take my hat off to them and winch up the slack on the halyard. This is what is was like two days ago, what it is like today and no doubt what it will continue to be like every few days until Auld Lang's Syne is being bellowed in my cosy, West-Country local. The rough weather seems to come in cycles every few days; it makes a Force 6 in this bleak, yet beautiful environment seem like a birthday present and reduces everyday life to its most basic. We are still racing, though, and this helps to give shape and meaning to work on deck when otherwise anyone in their right mind would pack up and go home. This morning's scheds (two hours old now) show that for all our efforts we have made a small gain on VAIO and slightly larger one - six miles - on BG SPIRIT. Naomi Cudmore

Leg 2 Day 16 : 56' 45S 96' 51W

Now we have snow! 

Both watches are reporting snow showers every time they are on deck in many of the squally clouds that we are passing through throughout the last 24 hours. If the freezing cold wasn't enough the almost horizontal stream of ice stings when it hits and is even worse should a crystal catch you in the eye. As it clings to the mast and sails, this season's attire for the BP Explorer helm is a full neoprene facemask and ski goggles. For the hands, blue 'extreme' divers gloves. Collars and hoods on our fetching yellow Musto foulies are worn up with the Velcro mouth and nose panel in place. Exposure time is limited and a strange dance takes place every 30 minutes as helms and trimmers rotate with those who have been trying to keep warm below. The heater below decks is not running at all now so it looks like a huddle of smokers in the saloon as their breath forms clouds around them. Mother watch really is being mother as the person on duty makes hot drinks and looks after the crew that are sick. A sense of humour is required to and trying to raise a smile as gloves are peeled from frozen fingers is a must. It must be a similar situation for the rest of the fleet as we are all quite close together now as the packs have merged heading North for Waypoint Alpha. We are maintaining our 4th place position but it's hard work. Still, Goldie Raley is still in good spirits and says "It's never the easy times you always remember" and "OK, so it's tough now but we' ll have plenty of stories to bore our friends with once we get home" John Bass

Leg 2 Day 15 : 58 14S 93 02W

Soon the only thing missing will be the sound of distant gunfire; life down here at 58 South gets more and more like the Home Front every day. We have a shortage of pretty much everything except powdered egg - you name it: gas, water, heat, dry socks. all are being carefully preserved and rationed. And as for oranges and other such treats - these are as rare as hens' teeth and there seem to be no signs of the supplies getting through. No tangerines in the bottom of our stockings this year! The galley resembles a soup kitchen - full of huge steaming pans of various types of runny googah, all of which taste pretty much the same and look even more similar; whilst by night cold crew descend the companionway steps for a quick defrost in hushed tones and a communal warming of hands on the kettle under the red night lights. The back bedroom, meanwhile, feels like an Anderson shelter - packed with heavily-wrapped-up bods all trying to keep warm in the icy chill. Yesterday David lent a suitably Churchillian tone to our daily midday roundup - which for once we were able to enjoy above decks during this spell of calm weather. 'This is not the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning,' he enthused. And the beginning will be over when we reach Waypoint Alpha - now less than 1,000 nautical miles distant. As the fleet begins to converge on this point (at 52 South, and approximately four days away), less than 60 miles separate the first 11 boats. As I write this, we may be in our worst position yet - according to the 0145 position reports this morning we were lying in fifth - but at the same time we are just one-and-a-half miles from third position and six miles from second. In many ways this is more cheering than labouring in third with more than 50 miles to the leaders. Yesterday we were dealt something of a 'Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free' card, with the flukey winds which have shaken up the scheds favouring us rather than Spirit of Sark and BG SPIRIT - on both of whom we made rapid gains. But of course we were not the only ones, and those behind us crowded forwards and began hunting us down too. Now it is all to play for - things are changing so fast that by the time this reaches you the positions may have altered yet again, hopefully for the better! Naomi Cudmore

Leg 2 Day 14 : 58 28 S 88 41 W

Anyone following the race on the Challenge site would see that we've gone from a healthy third to a much more sickly fourth in the space of several days. While we languish in light winds in the South the yachts that were able to turn North after rounding the Horn have been catapulted ahead as if finding a turbo boost for their sails. Ironically yachts that were far behind us when we came round were also able to head north and have made significant gains too. SAIC La Jolla to the north sailed nearly 40 miles more than us in just six hours and the same favourable conditions have benefited BG SPIRIT and Spirit of Sark too. This makes for very frustrating reading for us when we see the positions come in. We know they are not necessarily sailing better than us or they are more focused but their route has seen better winds go their way. The two packs, north and south, are converging now and we are happy that we've been able to sail faster than the rest of the southern pack and stay ahead of the likes of Barclays Adventurer and Samsung. The lighter winds have brought some relief from the pounding we've had over the last week but worries about our water maker and gas usage, combined with a mystery problem with the heater onboard, is another kick to an already sore body. We think we've tracked the water maker problem to the filters getting blocked with algae and plankton and we are currently trailing a filter behind the boat to clean it. However, rationing means no showers and no washing clothes for the foreseeable future. Winds from the South bring a chill that slowly creeps through each layer of clothing finally settling deep in your bones. The only thing to do is head below for a hot drink and warm up before going to relieve someone else on deck so they can do the same. With the hardship comes a certain honesty and bonding amongst the crew and we are all doing our best to look after each other. As one person's shoulders drop and their eyes fill another steps in with words of encouragement knowing that it'll probably be them that'll need the shoulder and kind word tomorrow. In years to come I'll remember these moments fondly for now I look forward to the end of the watch where my bunk awaits and dreams of pubs with log fires, Sunday roasts and, well whatever else a fella dreams about after two weeks at sea. John Bass

Leg 2 Day 13 : 59' 07S 81' 10W

Our fortunes have been somewhat mixed over the last few hours it has to be said. There is water water everywhere and not a lot to drink. Well, for the time being - and after hours and hours of struggle from Cop and David wielding manuals and tools - we HAVE just managed to fill all our tanks, but are facing a situation with the water-maker which is far from ideal. And, if it worsens of course, our position could be in jeopardy if forced to divert to pick up water from a passing ship. Due to plankton and algae blocking up the filters, and a weak pump, we have not been able to make much water. This problem is all compounded when it's rough, punching through the waves to windward; the water-maker is far fonder of calm seas for doing its job. The net result is that we are brushing our teeth in sea water, unable to wash and monitoring every drop. 'Fresh water to be used only for drinking and cooking - NOTHING ELSE, signed The Management' reads the notice in the companionway. [Editor's Note: they have got 1700 litres onboard in tanks, including 2 that are sealed that they can open if it breaks down completely, which is designed to be enough to get them to the end of the leg] Not that many of us would be hardy enough to strip off for a shower anyway - we have come all this way to 59 south without any heating below decks whatsoever! Yesterday, I woke up sensing that perhaps three sets of thermals, four socks and a hat was overdoing it a little for bed, and it was explained that the heaters had finally been cajoled into action. For 12 hours, a comforting, steamy fug of baking and tea-making greeted us when we come down off watch into the saloon and headed for our cosy sleeping pits. It might have been at this point that we suddenly realised that the boat does in fact smell, but it was nice to be warm. Now, however, the heaters have broken down again. When our watch headed for our respective pits just four hours ago, the position reports had been promising, whilst the weather looked worrying. We were lying in a very strong third position with a good lead over those behind us but had, along with the rest of the fleet, sailed into an area of wind sheer sandwiched between low-pressure systems to both north and south. This has considerably shaken up the pecking order and we now lie in a tenuous fourth - which could well worsen by the time that the wonderful dawn that is now breaking has turned to day. VAIO and Me to You have overtaken us and for the time being that must be our goal, to hunt them down and re-claim a place in the top three. Naomi Cudmore

Leg 2 Day 12 : 59 07 S 77 49 W

Freezing cold, tired, emotionally drained, sometimes dreading the next sail change because you are so worn out from the last one, sometimes welcoming a chance to warm up a bit. The only real comfort onboard is your bunk. I am sleeping in thermals, fleece thermals, a thermal liner in my winter sleeping bag and a Gore-Tex bivvy bag. It's quite cosy but you need a rest just getting in! The girls are suffering more than the guys and they are wearing hats and gloves too. There is a heater onboard but it's not working so the only heat comes from the hob when we are boiling the kettle or cooking food. On deck, winds are howling at up to 40 knots true and averaging 35 knots. The yacht is heeled over at 25 degrees all the time. We are relentlessly slamming into huge waves sending torrents of water down the deck and freezing bullets of spray into the faces of the helms or anyone on the rail who lifts their head from the 'tortoise in it's shell position' for the briefest of moments. We are wearing everything we've got in our Curver boxes on deck but we're still taking it in turns to come below to warm up. Sail changes on the foredeck can be likened to trying to sew your initials into a parachute while clinging to a cliff face upside down under a freezing waterfall. Sounds bleak? Bloody hell you're not kidding! The secret is not to think how awful this environment is or how long we're going to be here. Laura gets through by thinking in milestones, only so many miles to the next waypoint, only so many miles from there etc. Me? I just try not to think about it at all and sing 80's pop tunes in my head. When I asked the rest of my watch if what I'm writing here was how they felt too, Rob (Robin Phillips) said, "If the fires of Hell went out, this is what it would be like". This is the kind of stuff that our parents said builds character. It' s not all bad, we've got each other and we still laugh, we are not miserable just in a bit of a state of shock. We are living the Challenge Business rough weather video. When I bravely told my mates in the pub of how rough it was going to be I wasn't thinking rough 24 hours a day for five weeks - that 'll learn me. Our course takes us to the edge of the Artic Peninsular and into the 'screaming 60's' so we may not have seen the worst yet either. On a good note, we cracked open a couple of bottles of bubbly today to celebrate Laura and Graham's engagement and David made a moving speech on the importance of love in the world. "It's at times like these, in places like this, that you realise just how important love is" he said. We're in third place and leading a pack of six yachts all following a similar course. To the North of us are BG SPIRIT and Spirit of Sark holding first and second place with the rest of the fleet behind them. There is a major incentive to sail the boat fast, the quicker we go the sooner we'll get there. Oh! And Mum, I'll never complain about your cooking again. John Bass

Leg 2 Day 11 : 58°37'00.0"S 72°10'00.0"W

There has been nothing half-hearted about our deep, icy latitude in the last 24 hours - it has been a tough day's run. As watch leader Cop (David Pugh) finally wedges himself against the saloon rail at four in the afternoon to spoon down a long-overdue lunch of risotto (by this point resembling something more like a cold, congealed brick of mushroom googah), the call comes down the companionway - 'up on deck please' - again. It is time for yet another sail change in what has already been a long afternoon. There is a roar of water, those on the rail preparing the No3 yankee are lifted off their backsides by a huge wave and down below the galley comes alive as pots and pans are airborne. Cop's risotto joins the two sails on the floor - a tangle of soaking, and now filthy, spinnaker and yankee sailcloth - none of which has yet been packed away because we simply have not made it down below to bring order to chaos. Getting the No2 down and hoisting the 3 is a fight because the wind has changed so swiftly - six beefy men grit teeth and hang on as they haul the yellow monster onto the deck. It is hard to keep up with the changeable weather. When asked by David how I was finding the Southern Ocean, I replied through chattering teeth, 'exhilarating but cold'. It is interminably cold - our breath visible in our damp bunks let alone on deck - but at 58 degrees we are almost in the 'screaming sixties' and about as far south as we are likely to get on this leg. Northerly winds are expected later today ahead of a depression, and these should help get us back on the great circle line. Waypoint Alpha is up at a tropical 52 degrees south and is included in the route to keep the fleet north of iceberg territory and the worst of the southern ocean. We are about a quarter of the way to Wellington and a hot shower, and 1,700 miles from Waypoint Alpha. Our wake, meanwhile, is 1,755 miles long! This morning things are a little more shipshape, but the winds have been hooning around our heads all night - dress code: as many clothes as you can find; menu for the day: as much as possible! Life is very, very basic down here. but we ARE having fun - honest! Naomi Cudmore