Well we’ve come out the other side of a wild couple of days, most of us with a couple of bruises and minus two more buckets. Drew threw the first one overboard in the early days of the voyage, one was washed over the side at some point in the maelstrom and, as I write, the third one just drifted away despite our best efforts to catch it. The Grib weather prediction of winds up to 40 knots gave us warning enough and we saw with our own eyes the boat’s barometer drop like a stone so we were able to brace ourselves at least. It all started brewing nicely on Monday afternoon and, after an optimistic period when it died down and we thought we may have avoided it, we were hit full force that night. The worst was confirmed for Barra who had the misfortune to be on his own at the helm when a gust of 55 knots flattened us – a good sign to reduce sail to just a scrap of main. Then we started motoring.

Sitting in the cockpit watching towering waves rise threateningly above the stern is a sobering experience. Sometimes we would surf down the side, occasionally the waves would slam us on the beam and once in a while one would time it perfectly and gather itself to crash directly into the cockpit. I found the best place to be when knocked sideways is on deck where you can see it coming. Down below, it can come as a bit of a shock – and you better not be doing something which requires two hands. With probably not the most efficient stowage system employed by most of us, objects are constantly flying about the cabin. Drew has a particular talent for placing his possessions in the most precarious place possible in the aft bedroom, meaning I am constantly in the firing line of phones, cameras, deodorant etc. During the course of the two hellish nights on Monday and Tuesday, Barra was catapulted from his port-side berth a couple of times – and then hit by about six pairs of sunglasses which had been on the shelf. Normally, sleeping in the huge aft cabin is a luxury – except when you are flung to the other side in the middle of the night. It’s a long way to travel unexpectedly.

Tuesday was tedious at best, but at least we had the treat of skipping forward another hour. Barra has not taken his foul weather gear off for days now and may need to have it surgically removed. He had another ‘senile’ moment (his words) with the Duo Gen, attempting to lower it when we put the engine on. In mitigation, I think he has been operating on just a single bowl of cornflakes for at least two days and delirium has obviously set in. He keeps asking me to put the kettle on, which of course hasn’t been possible for days on end. His huge kit bag, meanwhile, has developed a personality of its own, mostly because it is constantly in the way of retrieving groceries, so moving ‘Ian’ is a common event. He’ll be a lean, mean fighting machine once he’s slept for about a month. He officially now ‘hates sailing’ – or so he told me in the middle of the 40-knot storm. I know he doesn’t mean it. Another wild night followed on Tuesday. I had an interesting excursion forward when we decided to put up the storm gib. Of course, a huge wave drenched me in comical fashion, meaning I was still damp 16 hours later. The wind settled down to a mere 30 knots on Wednesday, which felt like paradise. The log entry ‘Engine on for food’ has become a common, if bizarre, note.

We saw our first ship since leaving St John’s a week and a half ago on Wednesday and today (Thursday) the end is very much in sight with around 100 miles to go. A particularly energetic and entertaining group of dolphin have been with us off and on for the past couple of days, shepherding us home.

Jules