The pressure is still falling and it's blowing old boots at the moment with horizontal rain as we dance about on a mooring in the harbour. A good night's sleep has been had and we all feel so much better for it. I was going to have a shower on deck just now and the bucket just stood out on the end of its tether, so will have to wait for a drop in the wind. Now that we have it blowing through I feel good about the decision to wait it out. We are about to have a big feed and tackle a job list to make our time constructive. It's Halloween today and Eliot has just opened another of his presents from Tracey, and is sat across from me with weird eyes and we will have glow sticks out tonight. Looking at the Island it looks bleak but interesting and it's somewhere that Tracey has always wanted to visit.

Cheers Pete

Beware white clouds bearing dilemma's; we were over taken by the most amazing sight of the square rigger 'Gorch Foch' under full sail with 25knts of wind behind her and the sun across her canvas. I can't tell you how thrilling it was and to think this would have been the kind of sight that the original crew would have witnessed. Both crews lined the decks for a wave and lots of pictures were snapped away. I think they were as taken with 'Spirit of Mystery' as we were with such a powerful three master. On the VHF we promised to swap pictures and bid each other fair winds. Well, actually there was more to it than that. They have a meteorologist on board and warned us a couple of times that there is a 40knt blow from the west due tomorrow morning. They were high tailing it to Porto Santo which was twenty miles away to ride it out.

Safety has to be top of the list and we decided to follow in their wake and sit it out under a rock. It was interesting nosing our way into an unknown harbour at night under mizzen and jib. In fact it took an hour and a half to feel our way in under sail as we are determined not to use the engine. Hot shower and steaks are not the order of the day, as there is no shore for this crew until Cape Town.

Role on life after the blow.

Cheers Pete

I don't think we realised how much the storm had taken out of us until we started recuperating with lots of food and sleep. Last night was great as we had a fair wind from aft and an easy ride of things with only one man on watch at a time. We have done all the dishes and Mark has even had a shave! The solar panels are out for a well needed charge. We have the standing lug, small mizzen and jib up and she is loving it. We did a 140NM run and today managed to get a good noon day sight in which is great as we have been slightly blind since the storm. The good news is that we are ahead of where we thought we were and should have Madeira in sight tonight, in fact we have altered course to pass to the south of it.

Today we saw a turtle doing a very placid breast stroke - the mind boggles at their persistence. Eliot is up and full of beans and has just sighted a square rigger closing from behind - now that's a bit more in keeping with what the original crew would have been looking out for.

Cheers Pete

I can't quite begin to tell you the variety and challenge this trip has thrown up so far as we fight our way south. The Channel did its usual and had us cold, wet and seasick. The Bay of Biscay proved frustrating with light variable winds with grey rain and progress was well below what we had hoped. We always knew it wasn't the best of weather windows but at least we were on our way. The frustrations prevailed to the point where I decided to ask Lee Bruce my weather friend to send us a four-to-five day forecast until Cape Town, as I just can't afford to miss a good wind for the want of being hundred miles east or west of where we are. Our families have sacrificed an awful lot to give us the opportunity of a lifetime and the family get together in Cape Town is an absolute priority as far as I am concerned. It's not what I really would have hoped for but life is never black and white and it's why we called it 'Spirit of Mystery' as opposed to 'Mystery', which to my mind would have meant the whole hog from salt pork to using tar on the decks.

No sooner had I asked Lee for his thoughts, he came back to say that we could expect a force eight to nine that night which was a complete surprise. Here we were off the Portuguese coast with the sun getting hotter and the sea warmer, so winds of that nature were just not on my radar screen. We had gybed and were heading for the Canaries on a course of 210 degrees and it was with some trepidation that we prepared for our first real test. This was to be a big and nasty few notches up the learning curve for us all. Would we measure up and how would the boat hold out?

I decided to take the safe option on sail changes and stay ahead of the curve. When racing it's all about pushing the performance envelope, so my natural approach is for a quick double de clutch on the bend rather than grinding down well before the hill. I have to say I like it; our deck work was spot on despite it being the darkest of nights with a rising wind and sea. Soon we were down to the double reefed forlug and small mizzen with a falling barometer. It's the waiting that's worst, what should be a couple of hours rest in a bunk is fretted away thinking through the preparation and listening to the wind rise, and feeling the tremors of what is to come through the hull. Put your ear to the track and the hissing, bellowing of an angry steam locomotive bearing down the track becomes very real.

Everything was lashed down including all the spars to the deck, un-hungry tummies were filled, the grab bag was double checked and all the lee cloths strung up. The boxing ring had its ropes and we needed the fight to begin. In a funny way its arrival bought a sense of relief for we now had something to get our teeth into. At 0300hrs the ride was getting wild and we handed the mizzen as we galloped into the night. The double reefed lug on the foremast had her both steady and game as we charged into the night. Helming was manageable but only just, and we stood Eliot's fourteen-year-old arms down. We opted to work through the night with two hours on the helm, two hours snoozing on the cabin floor on standby in full gear, followed by two hours in a bunk. No sleep was to be had.

Come the morning we were up against the bottom line and it was impressive. I found myself taking the helm at dawn and was immediately immersed in a world of contrast. The seas were both massive and mean as they drove a relentless path before a force eight gusting nine. One minute the world would be contained between the tops of huge waves, the next it laid before me for mile upon mile as we crested a harsh and unforgiving scene. With dawn the sea took on a cold and impassionate slate grey, broken by heaps of breaking white, its surface unable to contain the angry restless energy contained below. A roar to my right grabs an adrenalin induced glance to reveal a stunning rainbow in the spray. The colour all the more vivid in this monochrome world.

Every helm has his big wave in a storm and mine heralded itself with a deep throated roar as tons of water let itself go at the stern of our gallant little ship. Engulfed in white she lifted her defiant stern and I was aware of being overtaken by breaking water either side of the bulwarks. This 'Spirit of Mystery' was not going to have, and she lifted her skirts and was out of the starting gate. I leant back and looked down the face of a ski jump with a gulp but there was no doubt in 'Spirit's' mind. She was off and surfing down that wave like a teenager. I just couldn't believe it as we bounced our way down like a tin tray with spray everywhere. Each bump, if that's what you can call it, causing jets of water to skirt up through the scuppers. I don't know if I was more shocked by the size of the wave or the discovery that a fully laden Mounts Bay Lugger really can surf.

Two very physical hours later Andy came up looking as tired as we all felt and I dropped to the cabin floor for my standby period, catching a quick word with Mark as he took off his gear for bed. We have been getting by on my Mum's fruit cake and gulps of water, but the need for a meal started to make itself known through a feeling of collective depletion. 24hrs in a blow is a long time and our second night started with a bowl of baked beans and smash. Poor old Eliot just couldn't take it and managed to find a bit more bile for the pan! Once again contrast prevails, obviously the motion below matches that above but any similarity stops there. 'Spirit of Mystery's' great timbers smoother the outside world like a mother with a petulant child. She has a sense of serenity that is both comforting and reassuring.

Remarkably, in the middle of all this we managed to snatch a schedule call home on the sat-phone to catch Granddad's birthday. Short and sharp but very welcome as both families were together, and we had a kaleidoscope of 'hello's' and 'how are you's' as the phone was passed round like a hot potato. I can't tell you what a lift the sound of loved one's voices can bring. There was no room for a proper chat but it was enough to carry us through the night.

Role on a break for we not only need one but have earned one. This rooky crew has been blooded and have found 'Spirit of Mystery' to be a tank.

Cheers Pete