Dear Marge,

DATE: 2002-11-22
LOCATION:007deg26N149deg41W
WEATHER: Overcast, humid and hot.

I am sweating buckets and suffering from lack of sleep. Last night there was a lot of commotion. The skipper had put the engine on, because he didn't want to sail downwind (too high a risk of a gybe in the night). But Bart switched it off and put the sails up. Everyone knows that instead of going dead down wind, you have to reach, then gybe and then reach the other way. Because reaches are faster, it takes no extra time. The skipper is adamant this is wrong. Well Bart sailed the boat that way anyway, and with the squalls we were experiencing we reached a record 20kn! However the damage it is doing to the boat is quite significant. It won't be long until the only other head-sail we have is ripped. There was a lot of debate, some severe broaches, arguments, shouting, breaking of things, and a lot of banging and crashing last night. I didn't move from my bunk but neither did I sleep. It is like a hellish prison, this saloon. I stare up at the uniform plastic moulded ceiling and wish I could open an air vent. But to do so immediately invites half of the Pacific ocean in. I just got sprayed then by a wave finding its way through a hatch and on to the laptop. Everything on board is soaked. The hatches leak anyway, so I was constantly being dripped on all last night, a cold persistent drip right on my face, no matter where on the narrow seat I tried to sleep.

Imagine how hard it is to balance when the boat is being tossed about in large, confused seas. Then add to this wet decks from the spray and the torrential rain fall we keep having. Then when you become sweaty and clammy from the heat and humidity, staying upright is impossible. I am a mass of bruises and I am so sick of cracking my head on things that I do nothing but swear now. Any patience I had has disappeared and I am hot, tired and fed up, swearing at inanimate objects, or lying flat on my back dwelling on my fate. The others are in pretty much the same state, Bart had no sleep last night and I found him in his bunk, drunk and swearing at Fred, who is rapidly becoming the scape-goat for everything. I have a particular grudge against the skipper because this morning I watched him cook himself a full breakfast. There is little else to eat, and he made himself a feast of eggs and bacon. I asked loudly and pointedly whether he was going to make us some. He just acted deaf. This is indicative of how everyone is on the boat. If I put the kettle on, I offer to make tea. If I cook eggs (like yesterday) I cook them for everybody. It is not much extra hassle. But these guys do everything for themselves, and even when it is their turn to cook, they do the absolute minimum. Most of the eating implements are now overboard. I have the only cup left, which I have hidden in my bunk. It seems so pathetic. I am determined not to sink to their level. I plan to bake bread later, and I will be doing it for everyone, not just myself. Bart has had a couple of goes at baking bread, but they have been pretty awful. He bought a bread-maker but we need to run the generator to run that. I am going to prove that traditional methods are best today. If it works, I will make garlic baguettes. If it doesn't, I'll make pancakes instead, they can't fail.

I just wish for air! Every time I open a hatch I get deluged, and it's not funny. My sheets are soaked, the floor is awash and dangerously slippery. All of Bart's clothes are wet. The laptop, satellite phone charger, books and everything else have at some time been sprayed or soaked. The electrical stuff suffered a real battering last night inside the cupboard, where it was flung about by the dangerous manoeuvring going on above. The conditions weren't that extreme - 35-40 knots of wind and 10-12ft swell. What makes it dangerous is the way the three "skippers" argue and debate and go to great lengths to prove each other wrong, often behind each other's back. A sail is set, then someone comes and undoes it again. If there is an environment where team work means success or failure, this surely has to be it. Yet only the opposite is apparent. My diplomacy has worn out, I am just keeping low. If they think I'm lazy or useless, I don't care. I know that I can sail as well as any of those three, but if I set about proving it, it would only do more harm, so I keep quiet, knowing that it is the very best policy.

This boat is a strange mix of high performance, luxury and damn bad design. All the hatches hinge forward! Which would be fine if we anchored every night, but useless at sea. They just scoop up the waves. There are no grab rails or anti-slip matting, everything is shinny smooth varnish or plastic. The jib is tearing itself apart on the badly designed guard rails. The rudder seal around the mast failed and we are having to constantly pump an inordinate amount of water out of the bilges. The electrical system requires the generator to run most of the day. The self-furler failed because it couldn't take the load. There are not enough winches for the number of lines that have to be controlled. There are no jammers on the lines, so they have to sit loaded on the winches, which is very dangerous, as they could jump off the drum, taking someone out with them. That almost happened to me last night, when the furling line jumped and caught my finger. I was very lucky that my finger is still attached to my hand.

We are seeing more seabirds now. I don't recognise them, I think one was a kittiwake. They look almost primeval, like pterodactyls. We are nearing Christmas Isle, so the amount of marine-life is increasing.

I sat and talked to Bart for hours last night. I have learnt all about how to become a pilot. He reckons private jet pilots are a boom industry. I then talked at depth about quantum physics and my desire to do a PhD at Oxford. Bart was suitably impressed and thinks I would be an idiot to miss the opportunity. Talking to him rekindled my desire to study, and reminded me why I wanted to to it. He also pointed out the practical benefits of having an Oxford PhD. I have never thought like that before, but actually, it's a good reason to be doing it.

I am really torn. I am excited about the possibility of seeing these Islands and ending up in Sri Lanka with Bart and meeting you out there as well. But at the moment sitting in this stuffy little boat with a miserable old man who's fussier than a grandma, and two other stingy, miserable arseholes, I have no desire to stick it out. The trip is tedious, and I am gaining nothing from it. I want to do this trip again, but in my own boat and with you. Then I would really enjoy it. I don't see why I can't do that. Phil reckons I could pick up an ocean-going 50ft steel yacht for $100k in NZ, which might be perfectly possible in a few years. I could come home, sort out work, sort out the house, etc. Then I could come out to Sri Lanka with you for a real holiday, one where we just sit on the beach and learn to kite-surf from Bart with no worries and no arseholes. It would also mean I get to see you sooner!

It is a shame about the live journal. I am quite flattered but if I wrote for my public, I think I would lose the quality that this writing has. I am writing to you, it is you I am seeing in my minds eye, and I am being frank and honest, not trying to impress anyone. The information I thought would go on the web page would be position, weather and at most a paragraph like, "Managed to bake bread today. Cooking at 30 degrees heel is a real challenge but we manage to eat well anyway". By all means send my friends the real nitty-gritty stuff if they want to read it. I know I should edit it myself, but it is really hard work typing at this angle of heel and in this heat, and I didn't want to have to repeat myself. Ideally I would spend time editing my work and release a formal, official log for you to publish, but I am not inclined to do that. I am inspired to write to you, because you inspire me. These emails are labours of love fuelled by my passion for you. If there is poetry in them, that is why. Only Tyger ever inspired me to write like this before, and that was short-lived and a long time ago. This is a wonderful release of artistic creativity for me, and it is landing on fertile ground, which make it extra-special. I have only managed to write a few things in my life with any skill, and each because I have been impassioned by some strong influence. These emails are only possible because you are my audience. So whilst I'd like to believe I can give my little fan club what they want, I know I couldn't manufacture it for them.

When you said you were looking at the moon, it moved me. I was thinking exactly the same thing! Maybe we were communicating with each other over all that distance.....

A wave has just come over the laptop and shorted out the keyboard. I have rebooted ad the oly permaet damage is the loss of the key that comes betwee m ad o!

[Note: I got around the broken keyboard by using the $ in place of the n key]

Today (22/11/02) things have gone beyond the pail. Phil has gone mad. In a fit, he has gaffer taped everything shut, including the ventilation. We are no longer allowed air it seems. Another night without sleep.

Please help get me out of here! I am going to disembark in Samoa now, whatever happens. I just want to get home now. Work will have to wait until I get home. This laptop will have to stay in its dry bag from now on. Every bit of the boat is leaking, I am trying to avoid the drips as I write this.

Ben