Turns out I’m on mother watch today with the lovely Lavinia. At first glance it’s a bum job but actually I think we’ve struck lucky. After the parade of sail and race start we’ll head down below.

Every day someone from each watch is assigned the role onboard of mother. It is your responsibility to feed and water the 22 crew.

It involves preparing breakfast which could include porridge, cereal, toast or bacon sarnies, baking bread, making cakes, concocting lunch and the creation of a full blown cooked dinner.

if cooking for 22 wasn’t hard enough, if you’re sailing upwind you’re doing so at a 30 degree angle and trying to time your sickness around the kettle boiling. Did I mention it’s also 35+ degrees of humid heat? Lovely. The old addage of one hand for you and one for the boat applies so you find yourself juggling pots and pans dodging any food or water that dares to fly off the gimbled cooker.

the perk is a full night’s sleep in a bunk away from the main accommodation. This increases in value as the time at sea elapses.

Today is a bonus. Half a day’s work in seas close to the shore (reflatively flat water) and a gentle ease into life on board.

X

Here we are. It’s race start day. It has always seemed like something so far away but it’s suddenly upon us. Perhaps not so suddenly for those reading this.

There was an air of nervous excitement over breakfast. A certain quietness. Everyone has become contemplative. Even the leg 1 crew are focused. Perhaps driven by the weather ahead (we have gorgeous blue sky), maybe the goodbyes or maybe a recognition of just how tough the last 6,000 miles were.

I said farewell to my dad last night, my mum yesterday morning and my brother today. Many wise words said and a few tears shed. I’m happy and excited and the helicopter buzzing above is waking up the butterflies.

I will do my best, I will try to stay say, I will look after my crew and our boat and I will race hard.

Mum, Thank you. I will treasure your card.

Love you all.

probably one last update before leaving the shores and handing the pen to my mum.

xXx

Ps all words of encouragement welcome. Please send to lucysgonesailing@outlook.com.

Palm hearts, slow cooked lamb and grilled banana with cinnamon washed down with pink champagne and Merlot overlooking the city. Don’t mind if I do! A fitting and rather extravagant end to our stay in Rio and toast us on our way.

It’s all change with the bunks. Vin and I have been ‘promoted’ by some considered blagging on Vin’s part to the forward UPPER starboard bunk (closest to camera with red/blue). More privacy, more storage and plenty of opportunity for dismount gymnastics. Hooray!

The other brilliant news is that the skipper has ear marked Kyro, Johan and me for the bow. Johan and I being partners in crime (or rather trim) on the ‘Starboard’ watch and Kyro representing Port. Exciting news when we’ll quickly face 30+ knot winds and similarly impressive waves. Foulies and dry suits are ready to go.

A couple of views we need to get used to!

Kyro and Johan from level 4 training have become good friends. That said, I’m still paying the price for buying underwear in front of them. Mistake. Seems like boys don’t understand how practicality needs to take priority in times like this and granny pants are a necessity.

As we ran through the watch group there was a recurring theme. WE WANT TO WIN. We need to test just how much it’s wanted but the very fact that’s a top priority at this stage is fine by me! We certainly have the weather to make that happen. Strong wind suits us.

After the formalities, which involved looking at a chart of our route marked with scoring and sprint gates, we finished the odd jobs on Missi and set off for our final hoorah. Most have opted for a quiet one, we did too but the opportunity for scenic sundowners was just too welcoming. I’m looking forward to the boat inflicted diet and a handful of stugeron.

We’ve toasted to fair weather, our safety and our friendships. We’ve bid farewell to loved ones (I still need to speak with my big brother) and tomorrow morning at 10am (2pm UKT) we board the boat. 1321 (1721 UKT) we slip lines and commence a parade of sail and 1500 (1900 UKT) ten-boats cross the start line.

The race route initially takes us along copacobana before turning South East and then East for 3,600 miles.

Hold on tight xxx

Today was boat prep day. At 9am we were presented with a to-do list that we had to eliminate under the watchful eye of Mike Morgan.

It becomes a little tactical. No one wants to get stuck down-below so the art is to quickly make yourself useful in a role that is on deck or away from the boat. I started heaving all the sails out of the locker before taking them up to the race village (a tent).

We unfurled all three spinnakers (kites) and checked them meticulously. I’m talking pin prick sized holes through to the quality of stitching of  down the length of the sail from weathered repairs. Out came the tape, thread and sewing machine. Yes, I’ve been trained of another skill I will doubtful use in the real world.

I then applied the Warriors’ secret weapon. In the dead of night with no moon or light pollution, it is impossible to trim the sail to perfection without ruining night vision. We have discretely imported from Australia glow in the dark spinnaker tape. A force to be reckoned with in the South Atlantic.

It is anticipated that we’ll be beating into wind for two days (think sea sickness) before running downwind all the way to Cape Town. As mentioned earlier the weather conditions are getting a little spicy so we’ll be holding on tight.

Bunk allocation has been and gone. Vin and I are sharing the bottom forward most bunk on the starboard side. No dismount points available to us on this leg. We’re also less likely to get injured.

While on the subject there’s been only one serious warrior injury todate. After sailing over 6 thousand miles to Rio, Barry fell down the lazarette hatch doing the deep clean in the marina. Ouch. 2 broken ribs and a very sick knee. The skipper on team GB (pete’s in the blue gloves) found himself multi tasking en route. Perhaps putting his sail making skills to use?

Two nights in a comfortable bed and a day full of briefings (clipper, crew, watch, safety) remain between me and the atlantic. Tomorrow I’ll also find out my role on the boat. Fingers crossed for the bow team. Hard, wet and wild….!!!

Night xx

I have been introduced to a brilliant website windty.com.

A couple of screen shots for you:

current wind and waves…

If there had been a wet t-shirt competition I would have won. There was only one entrant.

Today was refresher sailing day. This was the day where we head out into the bay to get the money shots of rio (and remind ourselves how to sail).

Oh, how I/we were wrong. No sugarloaf, no Jesus, Copacobana looked like Brighton and it was a BAD day to wear a white t-shirt. Cold, tired, wet and effectively naked. Sub optimal.

The sailing however was strong. Great to be back with Kyro, Johan and others (we all did level 4 training together).

Just been out for a delicious dinner with a bunch of the crew. I wish we’d listened to the parenting handbook’s first rule, ‘no toilet talk at the dinner table’. I now know the optimal toilet, how to flush, how to call for help and other head etiquette… It’s a science. Massive embarrassment (based on normal living standards) is a great incentive for paying attention.

Tomorrow it’s back to the marina. An all hands on deck call to attack the jobs list and the all important bunk draw. I’ll be hot bunking with Vin (round the worlder Lavinia from level 4). Fingers crossed for a top bunk. Whilst you have to do gymnastics to get into bed, it yields a little more privacy.

Fighting the germs and tiredness….that’s only going to get worse!

Today was crew change over day. Those joining leg 2 hand over their passports and those departing absolve themselves from any further clipper duties. I guess it’s another key milestone in the adventure as after today I’m committed to the boat for fifteen-thousand miles or so.

What a day it’s been. To firmly establish ourselves as tourists Sam and I caught the funicular to see the Corcovado (statue of Christ). What a stunning view. Sugar loaf, Marina de Gloria, and the city of Rio.

Once the admin was out of the way Sam and I regrouped with our respective crews. For me this meant a trip to Copacobana to watch the rugby on a big screen. The white sand and a dip in the ocean in my undies with Johan, Kyro and Charles made for a pleasant distraction from the result. One less thing to miss on the boat.

Back to race village (a glorified tent) for the official welcome. Never mind the formalities, we were told a wonderful story.

Remember Lmax? That’s the boat that finished leg 1 first and then ran aground a few days ago. Well they’re still beached on a live army firing range with government and military red tape delaying the rescue.

On a daily basis Clipper boats have been making the 40 mile journey to offer support and provide supplies. Last night it was the turn of Qingdao and skipper Igor, the boat that finished 2nd to Lmax.

Please don’t laugh at this next bit. You really mustn’t.

Qingdao suffered a prop wrap (a line caught around the propellor taking it out of service). They then promptly ran aground on the same beach!! At least Olivier and Sir Robin have company as they camp on the sand protecting the boats from looters.

It has been confirmed that these two boats are likely to start the race 7 days from tomorrow (3 days after everyone else) following a full hull inspection and the necessary repairs. That assumes that the rudder damage is all there is to fix. I’m not sure that the hulls and rigging will like days of sand abrasion and unnatural forces.

Their south Atlantic crossing will be timed and referenced to those in the race proper to calculate standings. As their direct competitors we’re not particularly comfortable with that but I guess if they’re coming under pressure from the two most lucrative sponsors then needs must. No point penalties either.

After chuckling our way through that we set about walking across the park of death and onto dinner. ‘We’ being a 30 strong troop of warriors lead by our SAS trained skipper and escorted by a police car! Dinner was an all you can eat meat affair.

I’m full.

I must try to find a comfortable position and sleep. A hard day of sailing tomorrow.

X

I’m in Rio baby!

It seems I’m not suited to the Italian way. Either that or I’m a natural. Back in April I booked the cheapest flight I could find to Rio which gave me a couple of hours in Rome en route. When I arrived last night, an hour delayed, I was expecting to have to break into a sweat.

After a childhood of staff travel and standby tickets, navigating airports at high speed was an art form perfected by the Grimsteads. This was different though. It seems Italians don’t run or rush or show any glimmers of urgency. And guess what, I fell for it.

Lulled into a wonderful sense of calmness compounded by the fact my onward journey was an hour delayed, I sat by the gate watching the world go by and having a peek at Facebook. Bloody hell, one of my best friends had just got engaged! Far more interesting than any flight calls (if their were any?). I really did have a run on my hands. Proud to be last on the flight, any earlier and it would have been a waste right?

Anyway, it’s morning rush hour Brazil style. They don’t seem to move too much faster than the Italians so it’s quite pleasant weaving around the streets of Rio in a taxi.

I’ve had no vision of The Big Man yet but I should get up close and personal tomorrow. I have however seen a sign to Copacabana!

…………

After visiting the boats and bumping into a slim Greg I headed back to my pink hotel to find the Warriors. They were out in force.

Andy, Roger and I took to the streets of Rio. Money stuffed in each bra cup (I need all the help i can get!) and 20 BRL in my pocket in case of the dreaded tap on the shoulder. Iphone was left back at base for obvious reasons.

We’ve flip-flopped for hours in and around buzzing markets, befriended heavily armed police, been warned about muggings from locals and had a moment which can only be described as the modern equivalent of running from the trenches into the enemy line. Mum, Roger is a national weight lifter and Andy has a PhD in physics. If we couldn’t out think them then we could out run them if we needed to. Neither was necessary.

Delicious street food from a bustling calzone stall in the market. English is not spoken here so it’s communication by international sign language only.

So far so good even if the money in my bra is now a little clammy. Yes, it’s HOT here.

5pm memorial service for Andy followed by the crew party.

Rumours are circulating that LMAX won’t be ready for race start as she still hadn’t been floated this morning. When asked what she’d hit ‘Brazil!’. Fair enough.

Quick snooze, uniform on and then it’s back to the boats moored alongside ‘the park of death’. That’s its literal translation.

Taxi!

Safe journey and have a blast Darling!

Ma xxx