There is little more disappointment than fixating on an arrival window that evaporates due to poor wind. We still have 100 miles to go and the wind is not being helpful. We’re now looking at Sunday. Morale is spiralling as is finger pointing. The boat is turning into an unpleasent place to be. I am quietly content knowing that I have done everything possible. I have to wait several minutes to be able to use my hands when I wake because they are so swollen and tired. There are some many other examples of fatigue on me and those who have worked hard.