Home is the sailor,

"Home is the sailor, home from the sea" by R.L. Stevenson

It's 30 days since I last wrote something here. And I'm right back here in Simonstown where I wrote the last piece.

So much has happened. I will give the whole story over a number of posts by just putting down things as they flash through my mind.

All in all, a wonderful experience. The race was everything I could have hoped for. A fast passage, good company, a sound boat, the South Atlantic Trade winds, the turquoise seas, the flying fish. And after 9 days and 19 hours of sailing, the island of St Helena and being the first boat home.

Highlights?.......... too many.

Some things that now flash through my mind:

The first night. We new that the first night was going to be a make or break and that the weather was going to cut off those that get away from the rest. We blasted around Cape Point in first place with Our Dianne and Swimlion. Then blasted North in a rising westerly wind under spinnaker. That was to be our getaway from the rest of the fleet. It was a hair raising first night, sailing right on the edge of sanity. At 3 am Jeremy called me on deck so we could drop the spinnaker...................it was getting too much. And what a battle it was getting it down. (After the race we learnt that the other two leading boats dropped theirs at exactly the same time for the same reason!

Then two days of blast reaching in very bumpy conditions. Behind us there was carnage in the fleet. The boats that did not get away was plastered by wind in excess of 45 kts. We saw none of that, but still took a beating while we speed ahead.

The a bout three days of cat and mouse fighting with Our Dianne for the lead.

Jeremy telling me we must either sail harder and keep more sail up for much longer or we will not get in front. We did just that and took off into the lead.

The beautiful trade wind sailing that followed. I have never experienced such sailing. The boat flew. Day after day we did 24 hr runs in excess of 200 miles. In a 9.5 meter boat!

The dark night watches. "A star to steer her by".

Then St Helena appeared in a dark night. Just silhouette at first. Then round the northern tip. The each in to the finish under spinnaker.

The two power boats that came out to meet us in the black night. As we swept past them the Banjo powered up and they gave full throttle to keep up. But the Banjo was flying and they had to give it all to catch us. Which they took long time to do.

As we swept in to the finish line, our speedo showed a steady 12 to 13 knots and I shouted to Jeremy "you don't get it better than this, what a way to finish a race!"

Then Tanya and Jamie and Rosie coming alongside and Jamie jumping onboard to help stow sails and pick up moorings.

We had finished at 5 in the morning. It was just getting light when we stepped ashore at St Helena's (in)famous landing steps. Just like every single person who had ever called at the Island. The only way to get onto St Helena is by landing at the steps. Unless you were born on the Island.

Napoleon landed there, royalty had to climb them, Frans Loots had to climb them.

More later.

And more pictures later too.