'Talisker Time', might not look it from the outside given that we have only managed 210NM in the last three days, whereas the previous three knocked off a heartening 510nm. What you can't see or sense of course is many little things that have come together today. If I was a bone thrower, today would be a good day, for there is enough signs to give Gordon Brown a good sleep.

First and foremost, for it is the most visible and it is something that we have been working towards, is that we have finally crossed the last crease in our South Atlantic Chart. We are on the last quarter which in a visual sense puts us on the home straight and I can tell you it looks good. Building on this theme we are now closer to Africa than South America. By the end of today's run we will have reached the same latitude as Cape Town. We will tick off a waypoint that we have had in our sights for the last week. We will make 1600NM from Cape Town. The wind is now in the Northern sector; damn it if that isn't portentous of better things then we will just have to ignore them all and keep grinding at it. Good reason for a cheeky Talisker at sundown though.

Having started I couldn't finish this theme of deviation from an ordered world where everything is straight, true and up and down without mentioning variation. We are in an area of maximum compass variation for this leg, with 25 degrees to be taken into consideration. If we want a true course of 090 we have to steer 115 degrees on our compass. With it, partly because our compasses are for the Northern Hemisphere, comes some sluggishness to their movement and a touch of laziness. We have two compasses and some days they can differ by ten degree's and others they will agree with each other.

We of course have the benefit of an up-to-date Admiralty chart which has lines of variation running across it, much like contour lines. Without it we would have to use a sunrise or sunset to check the compass as did Capt Richard Nicholls from his log entry of 15th of Jan: "By the setting of the sun found the variation of the compass to be 2¾ points west". I wonder how they read it at night? I guess they will have had a little brass oil lamp or candle.

If you have the time to really look at a chart it is staggering the amount of information that they hold. One of my favorites is looking at the seamounts and imagining how majestic they would look on dry land. One, Vema Mount, is 5km high and pretty much has vertical sides. Their names make me chuckle for they have obviously been discovered by different nationalities. The straight laced British ones come with names such as Crawford, Mallory and even Dave, whereas the German ones sound rather harsh with Schmitt - Ott or Engelbrecht. My favorite and I can only assume that it is Italian is Panzarini for it rolls off the tongue in such a pleasing manner.

Cheers Pete

One of the reasons for doing a trip like this is that you just can't bottle, describe or capture the special moments. When you get back people can listen to you but just can't hear you unless they themselves have been out there. You just have to do it and savour the moments as they come your way. These last few days have given sunrise and sunsets that warrant an effort at description for they have been stunning in their colour and complexity. The same could be said for the nights, for with this high pressure about we have been blessed with spells of open sky coupled with that crisp clear air that seems to draw the stars closer. Eliot's off the cuff remark caught it for me when he came below to say that he had just had one of his best night watches ever! "The moon is so bright it is like a director has turned on a stage light and put us in its beam." So it was, last night I actually popped below to grab my book for we often say 'bright enough to read a book by' but this wasn't a moment for glib words. The moon was a beautiful yellow and being at about forty five degrees above the horizon and just over my shoulder, it was as if I had a soft reading light and I found I could actually read!

Two days ago the sunset was so stunning that Mark and I just couldn't go below, in fact it was a series of sunsets, for I took about fifteen pictures and each one is quite unique. To the extent that if you printed them off and threw them across a table, a bystander would think that they were a collection of the best from the whole voyage. We actually had green in there and as the sun set it highlighted a set of clouds right on the horizon and if we didn't know otherwise I would have sworn that we had a glowing mountain range in sight; much like those magical shots of the Himalayas.

To cap this we turned round to find that behind us the soft pastels of light had painted the clouds to the east in a stunning hue of reds and oranges. This, believe it or not, provided a backdrop for a double rainbow which seemed to spark off the cloud base on its graceful dive through to the horizon. Quite stunning and something I shall ever carry with me for its beauty and the fact that down here it is the last thing I would have expected.

How does one cap all that? Well, last night my magical moon suddenly dimmed and I glanced round to be amazed by a moonset. Yep, a moonset and with it the director turned up the dimmer on the stars and then fired a shooting star right down the course. Pure theatre and by chance we just happened to crash the only show.

Cheers Pete

Today, like yesterday, is a good day to be alive. The weather is stunning and it has really given us a new lease of life thanks to a good sleep last night. Not a lot of wind, just enough to make three knots due south which after spending the early hours with the sails down is really enjoyable.

We have done a clothes wash, baked bread and tucked into bacon rolls. The galley has had a spring clean and we have given the boat a good old tidy up. The helm is catching rays at the tiller and is able to briefly leave the helm to wander about the boat for the odd job. It's just really nice.

One of the things I forgot to mention yesterday was that in the morning we noticed a pod of dolphins which were swimming in a tight fast and agitated circle with sea birds above them. From watching Blue Planet we recon they had a shoal of fish in their clutch and were having a good old feed. The spectacle passed quite close across our bows and they were still at it as the birds dropped from view. Such a cool place this.

Andy spent a couple of hours this morning with the long lens out trying to get a really nice picture of the birds which seem to have taken a liking to the Spirit of Mystery. I think they are of the Albatross family but smaller than the classic ones we are looking for. They are also black in colour but as with the big Albatross quite mesmerising as they glide about gaining lift from the waves. It's something that I will never tire of watching.

If their flight does anything it puts thoughts of evolution, aerodynamics and efficiently into mind. The natural conclusion when on this train of thought is to think about my very good friends Paul Larsen and his partner Helena in Namibia. Their project www.sailrocket.com is one of the most exciting projects about. Paul is after speed and has dedicated five years of his life to a concept which I think has the potential to set a completely new benchmark. He has efficiency and aerodynamics on his side but unlike the Albatross lacks the luxury of evolution. Without that kind of time frame big bold steps and dramatic tumbles are the order of the day, and I have just heard that they hit over fifty knots before coming unstuck.

Paul, brilliant stuff; you now know that you have it in your grasp. Keep at it mate for we are all behind you.

Cheers Pete

Any Ocean Passage will take you through the full spectrum of emotions and weather for the two are inextricably linked. This could not have been more so than last night when we lost the wind and received the news that thanks to the high pressure heading our way, to all intents and purposes, we are to be becalmed for up to four days. It is so dire that we can only hope for a window of opportunity to present itself during that period of flux for there isn't one at the moment.

This, after all our efforts to date feels very unfair and it was with a heavy heart that Eliot and I sat on deck watching the sun go down last night. The fact that we were surrounded by our first Albatross and they looked stunning as they soared across a vivid backdrop didn't take the sting out of it. The reality that Christmas in Cape Town is looking very doubtful was a big pill to swallow and as much as one might wish to rant and rave at the weather, swallow it we must for that is the lot of a sailor.

For Eliot it was devastating, not only had he to reconcile the possibility of Christmas without the family, but also to consider that we might well lose a chunk of our time together in Cape Town; something that is of greater importance than Christmas for we can celebrate that later, but we can't turn the clock back. One of the benefits of age and wisdom is that it's easier to see beyond something like this. Accepting that which you can't control takes time to master and it was awful to see a tear of disappointment squeeze its way through Eliot's effort at stoic acceptance. Being someone who cries at all the films it set me off and we had a cuddle on deck for sometimes there's nothing else to give.

Just to rub it in the wind dropped away to flat calm and we spent the night with the sails down lolloping about on the swell. To add insult to injury it even started to rain during the early hours so I decided to stand Eliot's watch on the basis that disappointment is easier to deal with on a good night's sleep. The odd thing is that it was a really nice night watch in that there was nothing I could do but pop on deck every now and then to check for ships, so I had a hot chocolate and read for three hours. It was so nice to have a break from the eternal routine.

Not 24 hours later and Eliot bounded down below quivering with excitement to say 'That was the best watch ever'. There's that spectrum being played like a fine tuned instrument by the vagaries of sailing. We started the morning with our Sunday routine of pancakes and I have to say they were absolutely delicious. A light breeze picked up, we tacked and started to make a couple of knots in the right direction for we are not going to give up. Eliot took over the helm and heard a new and evocative sound behind him; the sound of one of the world's largest mammals drawing breath.

The next hour was one of the most thrilling experiences I have had with a large pod of up to twenty whales playing around the boat. Blowing all about us, some twice the size of Spirit of Mystery. We could see them swimming just under the keel and twisting to look up at the bottom of the hull. These huge creatures, the bigger ones cruising at what must have been ten knots, had no menace about them at all. We are the intruders into their world and yet one felt so welcome in their midst. Magnificent, breath taking, awe inspiring, peaceful and thrilling - I just don't think I can articulate how special it was. One thing for sure is that we all feel incredibly privileged to have shared a moment of their world and it is something that will stay with us forever.

Andy is on the helm as I type this out; it looks like we have another calm spell on the way. Mark is reading and Eliot is knocking up Beef Bourguignon for supper. Once again we are a happy and contented little ship and if the whales gave us anything it was a reminder to seize the day. It's a long way to Cape Town and who knows what might come along.

Cheers Pete