As I sit wallowing away at two knots and look back at the trip so far it strikes me that the wind Gods have not been completely on our side during this voyage. This is my fifth time through the Doldrums and I can safely say that it has been the worst by far and we have as yet to clear them. That said we did see a gear change yesterday evening. After a day of squalls and heavy rain the sky allowed a peep of blue to show through the oppressive grey that we have been suffering this last week.

Sensory deprivation made it all the more vivid and it bought a lift of spirits as we slipped out of foulies and dried off; a joy after being perpetually damp for so long. The night saw a few showers but this was more than made up for by a bright moon and star studded sky. Our world, closed down under a carpet of grey was stretching itself and expanding into a gloriously vivid and vibrant expanse. Even the flying fish have started to fly again.

The sea, in sympathy with this new order, has calmed a bit and has been joined by a large swell from the south east as the South Atlantic high starts to show its influence. That huge great counter clockwise engine room revolving across the ocean like some merry-go-round. A merry-go-round that we hope to jump on as we cross the equator and jump off again as we close Cape Town. It feels so close and yet so far as we struggle south, fighting to keep as much easting as possible to clear the rump of South America.

Although the Doldrums have been bad they have not been as frustrating as in the past because we are not racing. There is nothing worse than being becalmed in the knowledge that the competition, no more than thirty miles away could be creaming away at ten knots. This time I have actually been able to enjoy the intensity and diversity that it has to offer if you take the time to stop and look.

This morning I was lucky enough to catch the dawn and for once the sun was able to show its face through the clouds. I named one of the clouds 'Jess' after the family Labrador that we had on my parent's small holding. She was a lovely dog and one of her quirks was that you could stand in a lovely dry five acre field and she would choose to sit on your foot. The cloud grew over an hour and a half and you could see its downpour from miles away. Every course change to clear it was thwarted by a change of its own. This cloud, with hundreds of square miles to choose from was going to rain on Spirit of Mystery, a 37 by 12ft moving target with yours truly sitting on top.

I donned my follies and sat with a wry smile and thought of times past as it did its business from above, the early morning sun able to shine underneath it's base to turn any droplets into jewels of reflected light. It suddenly struck me that as a youngster I used to walk with that old Labrador amongst the very oak trees that made the capping rail, glowing with its wet sheen; another little cycle of life within this great merry-go-round that we find ourselves.

Life has its peaks and troughs and anything hard earned should be both anticipated and celebrated and as a marker for many things, the Equator is a big one. We step from one hemisphere to another, the sun will soon be behind us, we change charts and in a sense it is our half way point. Its significance has grown through time and effort and so I have decided to open 'The Box'. An early Christmas present if you like.

'The Box' needs an introduction. We had the pleasure of taking Paul Walsh for a sail out of Falmouth with a group of friends. Now Paul is both a great guy and the Big Cheese at Taliskers parent company Diageo. As he left he gave us, with some reverence, a parting gift in the form of the most exquisite Oak Box. The type of box that will stay with you for life and it contains a bottle of 25 year old Talisker in a leather case with Spirit of Mystery embossed on it and a couple of neat glasses.

I gave him a Spirit of Mystery Tumbler in return and we promised to toast each other at a significant point and it's going to be the equator. So Paul, wherever you are in your globetrotting life at 1800hrs GMT on the day we cross the line have a dram with us. In fact I would like to share the moment with all those that follow the project. Grab your favorite tipple or mug of tea, toast the good Ship Spirit of Mystery and spend ten minutes reflecting on something to lift your spirits along with and someone else's. Book that romantic meal, bake a cake, pick up a load of box's from the supermarket, clear the front room and make a space ship with the kids, turn off the telly for forty eight hours and see what happens.

In turn we will have a very special dram of Talisker as the sun goes down and wish you all fair winds.

Cheers Pete

This is going to be a very short blog as I need some kip. The last 24hrs have been non-stop with huge storm clouds every six hours or so, and when I say huge they are something to both behold and experience. In a sense they are potential hurricanes in the making, for if the conditions are right these are the sort of things that go on to grow into a self generating force of destruction. You can watch them grow, sometimes very quickly as a number of clouds merge as if under the hand of some hidden conductor. Then they grow vertically as if reaching for the sky and you just know that there's trouble on the way. They don't necessarily follow the prevailing winds so a 360 degree watch is important.

They are so big that they appear stationary until quite close and then it happens very quickly with a burst of cold air preceding, anything up to a thirty to forty knot wind line that is so distinct that you can watch it tearing up the water as it bears down. 'All hands on deck', 'all hands on deck' and we tumble up with the sole aim of getting the big lug down and secure as fast as possible. Just throw off the halyard and let it run for if it's not down by the time the screeching wind and heavy rain arrives the other end of the boat can start to get obscured, damage will be done.

In most cases we have then had to rush aft and drop the mizzen and run off under the jib alone as we marvel at the power of the thing. They are completely unpredictable in that we had one blow for four hours and another lost its puff in half an hour, and yet made up for it by dumping such heavy rain for a couple of hours that it flattened the sea. The problem is that once they have past there is just this great void of energy, they just hoover it up. We are then left to wallow in a confused sea to await the return of a gradient wind. Up go the sails and off we go again, the next squall cloud already in site and so we go through the routine all over again.

Rest is impossible as she wallows, sometimes scupper to scupper as the crew on deck secure the mast to save it being torn out of her. Everything is wet above and below decks so it's a case of snoozing, working and eating. Funny thing is we are all as happy as ever as we work for every mile that we can - there's nothing else we can do!

Cheers Pete

From one of our best days to our worst with only 25NM being managed over the last 24hrs of effort. Well effort isnt quite the right word for much of it was spent with the sails on deck to save chafe as we waited for the wind. Oddly enough it was actually quite a fun 24hrs for it offered real contrast and change to the routine that has become part of our lives. With the tiller lashed a watch became quite liberating as one could wander round, read a book, make a cuppa.

We had a nice meal on deck with a sundowner and apart from the lookout went to bed for the night. During the day a lack of wind gave an opportunity to give the running rigging a once over which is always nice. There was the occasional period of frantic activity during the morning with huge clouds bringing very strong winds and rain. In fact you could watch a wind line tearing its way towards us was a useful warning that things were about to get exciting.

One point of interest is that Andy shone a torch over the side during his watch and there were loads of insects on the water skitting about much like a water boatman on ponds at home. Perhaps it is these that the small birds are feeding off as they dart here and there amongst the waves.

This morning saw a gentle breeze pick up from the NE so it was up with the sails and out with the secret weapon to give us a very grateful 3-4Knts of boat speed. This heralded a morning of work on the boat from a good old spring clean to sewing up some chafe on the log line which had tangled on the rudder and propeller as we were caught in irons on one of the gusts.

So Spirit of Mystery remains a very happy ship as we continue to trundle our way south as best we can with what we have - hope to crack 8 degrees North this afternoon so one can't deny that progress is being made.

Cheers Pete

I am sat below twiddling my thumbs after a day of hard work going nowhere, literally nowhere! We have just had supper on deck with all the sails down as we wallow in an oily sea with a dark overcast sky. When I say nowhere I mean it, for we have had the wind boxing the compass and ranging from a gale with driving rain to wallowing like a pregnant duck. The big lug has been up and clawed down in a rush on numerous occasions, as big clouds bearing torrents of rain and wind have swept over us to leave a vacuum behind filled with a confused and frustrated sea. The highs and lows of a voyage in forty eight hours, it's hard to believe that last night we were doing seven knots into a vibrant horizon with all the signs of it continuing into today. The funny thing is I don't feel the least bit frustrated - yet. I dealt with those demons a few weeks ago and just live for the moment for despite the lack of progress it has been a fun day. Mark sailed up to some rubbish on his watch and turned round an hour later to find it overtaking him! What can you do but chuckle?

Cheers Pete