19:26.67N 021:49.06W

            Everything is swell.

            No, literally… EVERYTHING. IS. SWELL.

            We’ve been riding 3-4m swell 24/7 for the last few days and it has become the defining characteristic of life on board. There is a constant rolling sway to everything, with the occasional great big tip when a larger wave catches the boat and corkscrews it off the crest of the wave and into the next trough. The biggest we’ve had a visual on was 7-8m. The biggest we’ve encountered was of unknown size but it broke over the transom in the middle of the night last night and caused quite the commotion. More on that later…

            Now how does the constant rocking and rolling affect daily life on board?

            Well, you adapt to the sway, get your footing and prepare to clothe yourself, then just as you let go of your handhold to put your jacket on, you get thrown across the room into the nearest wall.

            Showering is too much of a risk to bother with.

            Even using the heads is a pretty complicated affair. The men have been relegated to sit-down-wees. Trying to make a stable enough triangle by bracing your two feet wide and your head against the wall is just asking to be thrown out into the saloon with your pants around your ankles.

            When you’re cooking, you have to wear oilskins in case the contents of the stove decide to apply themselves to your legs. If you open a cupboard to get ingredients out, the boat will obligingly relinquish everything stored within for your consideration. I baked bread rolls for everyone’s breakfast this morning and when I opened the oven to serve myself the last one, the whole contents, baking trays, sausages and all came flying out at me. Even as I sit here writing, Michael just managed to expertly dodge a flying pressure cooker.

            The mesh nets we have strung up for fresh produce have held, but not without sawing their way through the ripest of the fruit and liberally flinging it around the saloon. Sitting in the cockpit, insult is added to injury by the semi regular punch to the back of the head with a bag of onions.

            Now back to that rogue wave. Giles and Jules were on watch in the middle of the night, and by Jules’ account, she heard the rumble behind them as the peak of the wave broke, soon followed by an almighty slap as the roiling cascade hit the transom. A sheet of water peeled into the air and came down on the instruments. This somehow resulted in the auto helm being switched to standby, at which point the boat broached, still carried upon the surge of white water. Everybody was fine and the boat was brought back under control swiftly, but I was somewhat puzzled as to how I had gone from being pleasantly asleep in my bunk to waking up pasted against the adjacent wall.

            Fingers crossed for a quieter night tonight,

            Hugo,