28:07.6N 15:25.6W

As we headed for Las Palmas in Gran Canaria – the official start of the ARC there was one piece of kit that we still hadn’t tested – the hydrovane. We attached the rudder and the wind vane and started tweaking.

An autopilot tries to make the boat go in a certain direction regardless of where the wind is coming from. Every time the wind shifts you have to adjust your sails but you still go in the same direction.

A hydrovane tries to make the boat sail at a constant direction to the wind. So if the wind shifts the boat points in a different direction but you don’t have to keep adjusting your sails.

After half an hour of experimenting we had the boat sailing at 40 degrees to the wind for hours on end without touching anything. It worked perfectly and will be a great help when crossing the Atlantic

The other thing that we hadn’t got around to was the tinned food. At some point on the big crossing the fresh food was going to run out and we would have to resort to tins. Time to experiment and try and come up with something edible.

The first night passed without incident and next day we had the final flag change as we re-entered Spanish waters

The threatened storm never materialised. We entered the second night and the wind died completely. This was more like the Mediterranean than the Atlantic. So engine on and more tinned food. Disaster struck – we obviously peaked early with the corned beef.

We spent the last 2 nights with really clear skies and spent hours identifying many of the 57 navigable stars. That should prove useful when the skipper whips out his sextant. Pat can now distinguish between Rigel, Capella and Aldebaran to name but a few.

Meanwhile Barrie was practicing his Spanish. La cuenta s'il vous plait was soon tripping off his tongue.

At 0420 on the final morning Barrie and Margery passed an historic moment. They were still speaking to each other!

No actually they had racked up some 2,000 nautical miles since joining the boat in Sicily. Well done to them. 1,000 in the Med and another 1,000 in the Atlantic.

Gran Canaria finally became visible at dawn and we were just changing shifts when a sperm whale cruised past the yacht within about 100 metres. It was heading north and we were heading south. By the time we had located cameras it was too far away to photograph but we watched its blows getting further and further away. Magic moment.

A couple of hours later Las Palmas came into view – not pretty after some of our idyllic stops - but we had finally arrived at the start line for our Atlantic crossing.

We got through all the official red tape and tied up in the marina at 1315 on October 2nd. That was it – we were there some 2,500 miles since leaving Corfu on August 4^th.

We sat on the boat and all looked at each other. What now? We tried to sum up how we felt.

Paul felt a sense of anti-climax. The journey was much more important than the arrival.

Barrie felt expectation. This had all been about getting to the start line for the main event.

Pat couldn’t believe she had done it without screaming and wanting to get off the boat.

Margery couldn’t immediately put into words what she felt – but I think it was a significant

It had been a challenge for all the crew. They all rose to the challenge admirably and the skipper is hugely grateful for all their support and for putting up with all of his bad habits. We all learned something about ourselves. The most important one being that we can all laugh at ourselves.

But at the end of a long trip there is always work to be done. So we all got busy.

And that was it – time to pay a short visit back to the UK before the start of the big crossing in November.