(The send-off we received in La Gomera - both from supporters and other competitors - was absolutely fantastic. Second picture: The boys on Mission Atlantic wave us off.)


(3000 miles ahead of us, but as soon as soon as the starter's horn went, all the boats - including us - started sprinting for the horizon. Brilliant.)


(It all started pleasantly enough...)


(...but within a few days, we got a real taste of what lay ahead. It always seemed impossible to capture the size of the waves on film. It may not look it, but that following swell is bi-i-i-i-i-ig.)


(The first ten days were especially tough. The cabins were so hot and stuffy that sleep was almost impossible and it was probably more fun to be on the oars than to be off them. Best not to ask what John is up to in the bow...)


(We had always expected to get a few blisters in the early days, while our hands toughened up...)


(...although we perhaps hadn't expected that having constantly wet hands would result in this kind of thing. I still have absolutely no idea what this was, but it hurt like blazes.)


(Blistered feet were also a problem, as we tried to figure out the best way to manage the foot straps in the rough conditions.)


(The quickest solution for dealing with the really bad blisters seemed to be to wrap the whole foot in gaffer tape. This worked fine at first, but after a week, the foot in question began to smell funny and when the tape was removed, it turned out that one blister had turned into several blisters and a case of trench foot. Doh.)


(These fellas flew at incredible speeds and were deadly accurate at night, when they seemed to fly straight for our navigation light. We had several run-ins with their smaller cousins, but luckily avoided any major fish-to-face incidents involving these big suckers.)


(A key component on our steering system broke just a few days into the race. Without steering, we would have had to abandon our attempt, but we luckily managed to rig a temporary solution to get us through the remainder of this day. John later devised a more permanent solution involving nothing more glamorous than a lowly cable tie. At the time this shot was taken, we were drifting side-on to the weather and moments later, a large wave broke right over the deck, flinging us onto the starboard gunwale and giving us a very unwelcomed soaking. Note: the safest place for small parts on a rolling deck, awash with water - in the mouth.)


(John brews up a freeze dried dinner...)


(...while Tom opts for sashimi.)


(The first of two visits from Sara, the support yacht. After so much time on our own, it was great to see her skipper and crew, Stewart, John and Andrea.)


(An unidentified crewmember takes a dip ([9.1], [9.4], [9.2], [9.0], [9.6], [9.3], [9.1]). In the more Southerly latitudes, temperatures regularly hit the high 30s (max temp recorded on board was 39.4oC). Although limited to a few minutes a day, swimming in these conditions was an absolute godsend.)


(The clarity of the water was incredible.)


(John takes things easy. I'm watching his back, but I also had half an eye out for any unwelcome guests who could potentially be watching mine from below.)


(One of the many dorados who called the underside of Pura Vida "home".)


(Cleaning barnacles and polyps from the underside of the boat was an important part of our maintenance regime. We learnt to our cost that even a few of these little b&$£%*rds could knock 1 knot off our boat speed.)


(John quickly established himself as the man who could fix just about anything on board - including this outrigger, without which we would have been down to just one functioning rowing position)


(Our first whale. Unfortunately, cameras and ocean rowing boats don't really mix and this was the only whale or dolphin that we saw in conditions that allowed us to take a snap.)


(Sadly, the camera doesn't even begin to do justice to this or any of the other sunsets or sunrises we saw during the trip.)


(Carl sports his very fetching (not to mention, very effective) Wurzel Gummidge sun hat.)


(View looking out from the stern cabin.)


(Mid-Atlantic bliss.)

[RG]

(Approaching the finish line)


(Just landed)



(Whoever said "pain is temporary, glory lasts forever" clearly never had a backside like this)

Apologies for this, the briefest of blog entries, but we wanted to get something up to at least acknowledge the fact forty-eight days after setting off from La Gomera, we have arrived safely in Antigua.

It's fair to say that in our wildest dreams we couldn't have imagined the welcome we received on arrival here yesterday. We were initially met a few miles from shore by three boat-loads of friends and family, who continued along-side us as we crossed the official finish line just outside English Harbour. As we continued to the harbour mouth itself, we were then joined by what seemed like dozens of other vessels, who continued to escort us in as the air came alive with the sound of air horns as both the boats along-side and those moored in the harbour joined in the welcome as we passed. Finally, we were met on the quayside by a huge crowd of friends, family and well-wishers, complete with a steel band and champagne.

Words struggle to describe what a fantastic moment it was for us and it really was the icing on the cake of what has been an epic journey.

Once again, we'd like to thank everyone at home for your support and for all that you've done to keep our spirits up with messages of encouragement. You really have provided the backbone to our efforts and we hope to be able to follow up on as many individual messages as possible in the coming weeks.

We would also like to take this time to say that all the other teams in the race have our utmost respect, but in particular, we have to doff our sun hats to the boys in Gquma Challenger, who pushed us so hard the whole way and didn't give an inch without making us sweat blood for it. We'll be there to cheer you guys in and hope to catch up in the next few days for some serious action on the rum punches!

Unfortunately, our on-board satellite phone wasn't able to send text messages, so we've had limited contact with the other crews during the race, but to all the other teams we have this message: "stay strong guys and no matter how crap you might feel at times, we promise you it's worth every moment just for the chance to step off the boat in English Harbour".

Lots of pictures to follow.

Thanks and best wishes from Team Pura Vida

With Pura Vida less than 50 miles from land, family and friends have gathered at a picturesque harbour in Antigua to welcome the team in.


[Emily scans the horizon for any sign of Carl]



[This is the stretch of water that the guys must cross to claim victory]

Champagne glasses are charged and a steel band is ready to play, all that is missing is the boat.


[Susie and James, Robbie's sister and brother, play with a ball in the sea as they wait for the big moment]

The arrival time at English Harbour is anyone's guess but most punts are on early Saturday morning, though it could be as soon as tonight.


[Chris, Robbie's brother-in-law, reads a book in the shade as he waits]


[Emily and Debs sip rum punch as they wait for Carl and Robbie to row into view]



[View of English Harbour where the team will dock]

Further to the question posed on our last blog, many thanks to everyone who took the time to share their thoughts on the advisability of cavorting with Marlin. Faced with the overwhelming opinion that those beasts do not make friends easily, Marlin have now been added to our list of local wildlife (along with sharks, giant squid, sea weasels and pirates) which are to be considered black-listed as swimming companions.

The highlight of the last few days has to be the St Elmo’s fire that appeared on our radio antennae during a night time electrical storm and caused it to glow pale blue and crackle like radio static. However, given that at the time we thought it may well have heralded an imminent lighting strike, the episode as a whole was one of the more nerve-jangling moments that we have experienced.

In a race like this, lots of things can still go wrong but with just over 100 miles to go we can now almost smell our first rum punch.

A massive thank you again to everyone who has brought us so many laughs and given us so much support on the message board.

In particular we would like to thank Jeremy Cecil-Wright, aka Wind Guru, Hilary and Louie Grant, aka Mum/H and LRHG, Ed Jeremy and Luke Mines.

A massive thanks as well to Mark Terry for his terrific support over the past 18 months – boat builder, press officer and motivational coach. You’re a legend mate.

Finally a huge thanks to “The Emily Louise" for your tireless efforts with race updates and keeping up Carl’s spirits with your text banter.
[RG]

It's one thing watching whales and dolphins frolic around the boat by day, acting playful and looking cute. It's quite another thing, however, when one unexpectedly breathes in your ear at full volume in the dead of night.

OK, so it wasn't literally right in my ear but whatever the mystery creature was, it had one hell of a pair of lungs and when it surfaced just off our starboard bow at around 4am it was enought to give me and Carl a good jump. The most likely culprit must surely be our resident Casanova, Moby the Minke Whale, perhaps sneaking back under the cover of darkness to have another crack at Pura Vida. The cad.

Yesterday began with a visit from Sara, the race support yacht. Aside from this being only the third time we have had contact with another vessel since leaving La Gomera, it was great to see Stuart, Angela and John and to catch up on some of the race gossip.

Other news: The crew facial hair growing competition is really now a two horse race. I've all but retired from the main competition so that I can focus all my growing efforts on my tache. Besides, despite my beard going from strength to strength on my chin, I feel somewhat handicapped by the seemingly random swathes of cheek area which steadfastly refuse to yield anything other than the lightest down. Likewise, Tom (aka Wolverine) appears to have abandoned any attempt at growing a full beard and instead is cultivating a very statesmanlike set of lamb chops. So it's all now down to Carl (aka Night Fever) and John (aka Deerhunter). Carl appears to have the edge right now but it promises to be a close run thing. Results will be posted upon arrival in Antigua.

Under the waves, we have been tailed all day by a six to seven foot Marlin, which seems to periodically attack the fish directly under our boat. We've been sorely tempted to take a closer look but have so far resisted the urge to get in and witness the carnage at first hand. In all seriousness, provided we keep a respectful distance, does anyone in the know think that there is any danger of it coming after one of us if we join it for a swim?

On the weather front, conditions continue in much the same vein as they have done for the past month. We've enjoyed brief Easterly breezes, but in general both wind and waves have been about as useful as a snake in an ass-kicking competition. The wind in particular conspires to do either nothing or blow from any point of the compass that isn't due East.

Still, with Antigua just over 500 miles away now, for the first time perhaps, completing the race feels like a tangible goal and all that's left to do is to put our heads down and pull like smoke and oakum for the finish line.
[RG]

Question: When you have had less than five hours sleep, you're jacked up on painkillers and there's a strong glare from the sun off the water, how long do you watch a huge dark shadow trailing your boat about fifteen metres off your stern before deciding that you're not hallucinating and telling your crewmates?

Answer: About three minutes

Question: Having ascertained that there is indeed an unidentified leviathon, possibly with amorous intentions, circling your boat in a suggestive manner, how long do you simply stand watching before jumping in to defend the honour of your woman?

Answer: In the case of John and I about thirty seconds (about the time it took to remove footstraps and to fling off hats, sunglasses and gloves).

Perhaps he felt that Pura Vida was giving him the cold shoulder. Perhaps he thought that his style was being cramped by the two naked dudes who seemed to appear in the water every time he came close enough to lay down his moves. Either way, after circling the boat for about a quarter of an hour he gave what could equally have been a snort of disgust or disappointment and we went our separate ways.

Swimming with a whale in the open ocean is a hard thing to top, but other highlights of the past few days have been the pod of fifty to a hundred dolphins which played around the boat at sunrise two days ago and the second pod of very large black dolphins (or small whales) which passed us yesterday evening.

We have also now seen three Tropic Birds. Aside from anything else, these beautiful birds with their long streamer-like tails are hopefully a sign that we are heading in at least vaguely the right direction.

We've noticed that one comment in particular has appeared more than once in the messages of encouragement and support that we have been receiving throughout the race:"don't forget to take a moment every now and again to stop, look around and enjoy it". On a day after our little boat has been visited once again by both whales and dolphins, it is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore this advice.

Footnote: for any budding whale watchers, the whale we swam with was a little larger than our boat (but not nearly as big as the larger black whales we saw a few days ago), grey in colour, with white or light grey under the chin and a small, hooked dorsal fin.
[RG]

Happy Birthday Mum (Jane) and Big Bad John. Love from Tom and best wishes from Team Pura Vida.
[TH]

Well, they say you haven't really lived until you have been chased down the face of a twenty foot wave by a roaring wall of white water as tall as your boat.....

They don't say that at all, of course, but perhaps they should.

This long overdue blog was originally going to be about whales and dolphins. Whales, dolphins and some good old phosporescence in fact: the huge black whale which visited John and I at first light on the morning after Boxing Day; the second whale which, fittingly, visited Carl and Tom at dusk that same day; the family of dolphins which swam and played within touching distance of the boat on a night so still you could hear both the inhale and the exhale of their blowholes; and the huge cloud of phosporescence we passed through, so dense and bright that it seemed to turn the sea around Pura Vida to liquid green fire.

But right now it seems difficult to talk about anything else other than last night. Wind and swell built throughout yesterday and when darkness fell we had a twenty knot tail wind, twenty foot seas and were back to steering using the ensign. There were a few dicey moments, especially at changeover time (roaring walls of white water being amongst them) but, in true Pura Vida spirit, even the most bladder-weakening moments seemed to be met by cackles of laughter and whooping rather than signs of faint-heartedness.

With our nav lights switched on to illuminate the ensign, we came under frequent aerial attack from large flying fish, with one narrowly missing my head before hitting the stern cabin with such force that it broke apart on impact and the bang brought John on deck to find out what was going on.

True to recent form, daylight has brought less favourable conditions, with confused seas and shifting winds. However, spirits have been bouyed by last night's bursts of speed and action and we resume our slog to Antigua with efforts redoubled.

As ever, thankyou for the fantastic messages. Happy New Year from Pura Vida.
[RG]

In the mid-Atlantic Ocean
'Twas the middle of the night.
Clouds lay thickly overhead
And there was not a star in sight.

And in this inky blackness,
Far away from home,
A little ocean rowing boat
Lay bobbing all alone.

But ordinary vessel this was not,
O best beloved reader,
For this boat was a special one
The Good Ship Pura Vida.

And P.V. has a smashing crew,
Four bona fine stoics.
They know sod-all about seamanship
But they row like warrior poets.

With light blond hair and bright blue eyes
Tom comes from Viking stock
And when he pulls upon the oars
He's solid as a rock.

By day he is a shining wit,
An IQ of the best
But come the night Tom's brain gets tired
And sometimes takes a rest.

So sometimes though he seems awake
A close look will reveal
Even though the engine's on
There's no-one at the wheel.

But Tom's just fine the way he is,
That's the way the cookie crumbles.
That's also why, when night-time comes,
His crewmates call him "Fumbles".

Then Carl, he's rather fond of pants
So said he'd bring some pairs
But when he said this no-one guessed
He'd be bringing fourteen pairs.

They festered in the cabin,
Scattered all around the bed,
And every time he slept they seemed
To end by Robbie's head.

So now you've met these two fine gents,
Carl and Tommy Tit,
We'll introduce the other two
In just a little bit.

Now Carl and Tom have done their shift
And headed off to sleep.
Tom was sleeping peacefully
While Carl was counting sheep.

And in the darkness P.V. sped
A-surfing down the waves
And up on deck young Bob and John
They rowed like galley slaves.

John puffed upon a white clay pipe,
His face was tanned as leather
And his chin was furnished with a beard
He claimed could make the weather.

Robbie wore a dashing hat
All trimmed with golden ribbon
And when he rowed, with gangly arms,
He was not unlike a gibbon.

But this was Christmas Eve you see
And both boys were rather sad
For Father Christmas hadn't been
- no presents to be had.

When out of nowhere, suddenly,
Things took a wondrous turn
A bright red light was drawing near,
Approaching from the stern.

Bob and John stopped rowing.
John looked quite alarmed.
Robbie scrabbled in a hatch,
Desperate to be armed.

"Piracy!" yelled Robbie,
His boarding axe held high
And he swung it round above his head,
A fierce look in his eye.

"Steady now" said John-Boy
And he gave his pipe a toke
And a thoughtful look passed o'er his face
And he gave his beard a stroke.

For far off in the distance now
A strange sound could be heard
Like the mixture of a clicking tongue
And the chirping of a bird

Till finally from out the gloom
He came as clear as day
Father Christmas riding high
On a dolphin-powered sleigh.

Tinsel on their dorsal fins,
Bells upon their backs,
"Whoa there boys" cried Santa,
A nervous glance at Robbie's axe.

"Shiver me timbers" muttered John
While Robbie simply froze
For the dolphin at the front, you see,
It had a glowing nose.

"Ahoy there lads" cried Santa
"And no, this ain't a dream,
I hope you like my water sleigh
Let me introduce the team.

"Here's Flipper, Flapper, Moby, Dick,
Bubble, Chirp and Squeak
And then, of course, there's Rupert
With his famous glowing beak.

"I heard you lads were all at sea
So I brought your presents here
A little bag of goodies
And a mug of Christmas cheer.

"Here's soothing creams for chafing bits,
Painkillers and more,
Talcum powder, Sudacrem,
Baby wipes galore!"

"Much obliged" said John-Boy.
"Likewise" Robbie cried,
"But haven't you come an awfully long way
To save my poor backside?"

But Santa merely grinned and said
"You're not the only one.
This here is a scheduled trip,
My Transatlantic run.

"All the ocean rowers,
Well we didn't want them missed"
And he put his reading glasses on
And produced a written list:

"We've got Cornish pasties, clotted cream,
Buttered scones and tea,
A dab of oil for Angela
To fix Frank's squeaking knee,

"A bag of biltong, some roo-tail soup,
A shamrock and a leek,
Lots of sweets and cake of course
And chocolate by the heap,

"A silver fern, some apple pie,
A baguette for a laugh,
A rugby ball for Elin
And Herdip's West Brom scarf,

"Flashing blue lights and camo-cream
And ice-cream by the tub,
Silver polish for any girls
Whose halos need a scrub

"And let us not forget" he said
"The nutters of the fleet,
Maple syrup, that's for Paul
And an English Rose for Pete.

"But blimey boys, is that the time?
I've really got to dash,
I'm meeting with the Woodvale crew
For a night out on the lash."

And the last they saw of Santa
Was his gowing compass light
As he sped off in the darkness
To complete his mercy flight.

So here's to ocean rowers
With bums both bruised and sore,
With chafing thighs and hungry tums
And fingers blistered raw.

When times get tough remember this
Tain't many who can say
They've been visited by Santa
On his dolphin-powered sleigh.

So Merry Christmas one and all
From all aboard P.V.
We send our love and festive cheer
To friends on land and sea.
[RG]

Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou to everyone who packed us off from La Gomera with various small Christmas cards and presents. These have now all been opened, read and thoroughly enjoyed. On a personal note, I can't even begin to thank everyone enough who contributed to my Christmas card/booklet - possibly the best present ever.

Emma, Tom has distributed the reindeer man-thongs amid much laughter and it looks like they may well actually be invaluable from a medicinal as well as a comedy perspective.

Phil: Tom and John send their thanks for the decorations......

Thanks too to all of you who continue to send messages via the website. A message for one always feels like a message to all and your words make us laugh, inspire us and keep us rowing with all our hearts towards Antigua.

Wishing everyone a very Happy Christmas. We can't wait to see you all in 2008. Team Pura Vida
[RG]

Well, the last ten days haven't been easy. We've watched as the normally predictable Trade Winds have retreated before us and instead of the stern winds we had hoped for we have been battered by day after day of cross winds, making steering in particular both exhausting and painful.

When you are constantly tired and sore and your life revolves around rowing, sleeping and eating it is easy to let small setbacks and dramas get blown into full-scale Greek tragedies. However, none of us expected this race to be easy and the recent conditions which have made our lives such a misery are likely to have had an equally adverse effect on many of the other boats in the fleet. What is more, despite any perceived hardships, there is magic to be found in abundance out here if, in the words of the late Hunter S. Thompson, you "look with the right kind of eyes". The passing of even the grimmest of nights is inevitably marked with a sunrise, each of which is as varied as it is spectacular. It is amazing how much more you seem to appreciate the coming of daylight when you have spent six of the past twelve hours in darkness. Likewise, sunsets continue to amaze and inspire in equal measure. In the air, storm-petrels have been our constant companions since we left the Canary Islands. These hardy little birds visit us every few hours both day and night and it is incredible to watch them skim the wavetops, seemingly oblivious to the weather, and with their wingtips always just a fraction above the water. Below the surface, our escort of fish continues to grow and at night they can be seen leaving trails of phosphorescence, occasionally flashing pale blue as they turn on their sides and their underbellies catch the moonlight.

Other news: Tommy "there wasn't much in the tube, none left for you" Harvey continues to experiment with every combination of cream, ointment, powder and lubricant in our medical kit in his efforts to combat his painful chafing. In a somewhat offputting turn of events, he has taken to "airing" himself at the stern for long periods of time. This involves standing, statue-like, tracking the sun's progress across the sky like a human sundial. Pura Vida is now set on a Westerly course and for those who happen to be on the oars there is little debate that the preference is for these sessions to take place during the mornings when the sun is astern of us, rather than in the afternoons when it swings to our bow!

Thoughts on board now turn to Christmas and, perhaps inevitably, to home. Speaking personally, if you had asked me what I would want most upon arrival in Antigua I would probably have told you "a sixty ounce T-bone steak, a crate of cool beers and a night on the town in English Harbour". However, right now I can't think of anything I would like more than a simple kiss from Debs, a hug from my family and a soft doughnut-shaped cushion. For now, such things will have to wait. Our business now lies West.
[RG]

Merry Christmas from Carl, Robbie, Tom and John, all aboard the Good Ship Pura Vida, mid-Atlantic Ocean. It is a very surreal experience out here, away from all the normal last minute shopping and preparation that hopefully leads to a perfect Christmastime.

Life on board will be pretty much the same for us as the previous 23 days, with gruelling shift patterns remaining so that we can get to Antigua as soon as possible. Last night we sang a few carols to get into the spirit and we will be taking time to open our presents and cards that our loved ones have packed us off with. Our thoughts are with our families and friends, with the sincere wish that we were back home celebrating Christ's birth with you all. I know that we will all appreciate next Christmas more than any other.

I hope that Father Christmas brings all that you hope for. All that we ask for now is Trade winds to blow and help us on our way.

We are doing this challenge in aid of homeless people and it is worth spending a moment thinking about their plight at this time. Although we still have a long way to go, there is an end to our journey in sight and the same hope cannot be given to many people this Christmas. If you haven't already done so and would like to help, please follow the link to our JustGiving website to make a donation.

Merry Christmas
Lots of love from Team Pura Vida
[Carl]

Lifejackets and safety harnesses are a must at all times when on deck, except in the most calm of conditions during the day.

For the most part, however, the crew have been enthusiastically pursuing a "no white bits" policy and birthday suits are de rigeur during daylight hours. The only exception to this is meal times. Apart from the fact that it is always nice to dress for dinner, all of our food is boil-in-the-bag and it only took one near miss to realise that at least one layer of protective clothing is no bad thing when you are sitting on a wildly rocking boat pouring boiling water into a small packet of freeze-dried food clamped between your thighs.

It is probably worth explaining that, while it is certainly very liberating to pass the day without a stitch of clothing on, this isn't just nakedness purely for the sake of gratuity. Our clothes have long since turned into the consistency of sandpaper, having been exposed to so much salt and with no washing facilities on board.

Despite the general lack of attire on board, no sea-dog's outfit is complete without the right trimmings. John completes the look with a shoulder-mounted parrot, complimented by a musket and cutlass slung from his belt. I, on the other hand, am rarely seen without my eye patch and armed with my boarding axe. By contrast, Carl favours the more sophisticated look, with his tricorn hat and with his telescope clamped under his arm. He has also taken to smoking a clay pipe when promenading the deck. For Tom, it is a single gold hoop earring, red bandana and a bejewelled dagger called "tickle", which he talks to when he thinks no-one is looking.

Other news: Tom and I went for a swim yesterday while John and Carl stood on "big fish watch". We managed to clean a surprising number of barnacles from the underside of the boat and the clarity of the water was simply amazing.

On the weather front, there is still no sign of the Trade Winds - which is somewhat disappointing given that we have taken a 500 mile detour to find them. Still, they were here at the time that we left La Gomera, so hopefully they haven't gone far. One thing is for certain though, John's weather-predicting beard is definitely not to be trusted.
[RG]

Feet: blistered on heels and toes from footstraps.

Shins: bruised from catching the oars on top of wave in mid-stroke (one shin versus one ash oar, with the weight of a one ton boat behind it = pain).

Knees: twisted by the steering system.

Backside: Probably the less said about this one the better. Suffice to say that they are all chafed, blistered and bruised, sometimes in the most remarkable of places.

Crotch: In polite circles some call it scrum pox. In others they refer to it by a name which rhymes with "Job Lot". Conditions on board are cramped and hot and everything is continuously wet, although again, probably the less said about this one the better.

Back: All of us are suffering from sore backs and I have been taking large quantities of painkillers from the outset. Unfortunately the chemist in La Gomera didn't speak English and the best he could do was give me pills with a name similar to painkillers I had previously used in the UK. As such, I could in fact be taking large quantities of anything from vitamin supplements to cystitis medication, but whatever it is it does at least seem to be working.

Hands: blistered and clawlike. No-one thought to bring nail clippers on board so long dirty fingernails complete a look similar to rat paws.

Face: hairy and sea-dog like. John is now able to determine both wind speed and direction purely by the way the air ruffles the hair on his chin. We think it now only a matter of time before he can use his beard to control - and ultimately create - the weather. I, on the other hand, have opted for a Hulk Hogan-esque blond moustache. This is perhaps not of such immediate use on an ocean rowing boat, you might say. But then, should anyone decide that they're in the mood to eat canvas (would-be pirates) then I'm gonna be your man.

Other news: We were visited by more dolphins jumping off our stern. We are beginning to collect quite a family of fish who call the underside of the boat their home and we have seen our first airborne squadron of flying fish, banking across the wave tops in much the same way as a flock of birds would.

John's beard tells him that the ever elusive trade winds are getting close now and my moustache tells me that it is almost time to rumble.

As ever, thank you for the messages. Morale remains extremely high. We are looking after each other and are tired but in good spirits.
[RG]

We are having to ration our power and for the time being we are unable to access the online message board, although some messages continue to be passed on to us during satellite phonecalls.

However, we hope to resolve this in the next few days when we turn West and can bring all three of our stern solar panels into play.

Thank you once again to everybody for the fantastic support - please keep the messages coming, they are making the world of difference.
[RG]

We've been becalmed for the past few days, so there has been lots of grunt work needed on the oars both day and night.
Nights in particular continue to be tough, with none of us getting more than four to six hours sleep a day. That said, the iPods are now out in force and, in these still conditions, the right song playing at the right moment can bring moments of absolute magic during the night shifts.
Night time still brings out huge clouds of swirling phosphorescence around the boat and, increasingly it seems, extremely bright shooting stars.
At times the boundaries between consciousness and sleep seem to blur, with lots of rowing in our dreams and occasional dreams during our rowing. Indeed there can be very few things more distressing than completing what you thought was an hour of solid rowing only to be woken up and told that your next two hour shift starts in ten minutes.
We now continue our push South and are hopeful of reaching the Trade Winds in the next few days.
[RG]

Both wind and seas have died over the past 48 hours so we have been able to resume a more southerly route, still in search of our trade winds. Life on board has finally begun to be something of a routine and morale is high.

Result of the Team Pura Vida Day 7 Crew Awards:

M&S Award for the most pairs of underpants - Carl with 14 (the rest of the crew have four between them);
The David Hasselhoff Award for the most likely to be transformed from a fat man child to a bronzed Adonis by the end of the row - Tom;
The Mr Burns Award for the most likely to be transformed from a bronzed Adonis to a scrawny weasel by the end of the row - Robbie;
The RoboCop Award for the most body parts held together by Gaffer tape - John;
The Sleeping Beauty Award for the most difficult to wake up (even while being slapped in the face) - Tom;
The Bob The Builder Award for the most likely to be able to fix it - John;
The Mickey Mouse Award for the most likely to be fully clothed - John;
The Donald Duck Award for the most likely to be naked from the waist down - Robbie;
The Pluto Award for the most likely to be completely naked - Carl.

[RG, dictated from the satellite phone. He was cut off before he could finish what I think was the final award. This is as much as he said before the line cut out: The Jonny Wilkinson Award for good hands - Carl (juggling a bucket full of indescribable horribleness above his head, high over...)

Hallucinations and strange goings on have already begun. Things that have been ‘heard’ or ‘seen’on the boat so far include:
Robbie – A dog barking in a well and a bear snoring.
John – An old hag met him in his cabin and told him to turn around.
Carl – A 50-year-old woman called Eleanor talks to him at night
Tom – Having not said anything for an hour, Tom asked Robbie in the middle of a rowing watch at 3.00am, “Do you want to move to the moon?” He could not remember having said that afterwards. On another occasion after rowing for two hours in the darkness, Tom told Robbie that he had spent the last 45 minutes thinking that he was rowing down a tree-lined river.
After describing these various hallucinating experiences, Robbie added: “Other than that we are all fine.”
[RG]

We are still going strong. Steering system broke again so we took a couple of hours off today to try to fix it. We are still rowing like Vikings for the south and despite being absolutely shattered morale remains high. Thanks once again for the messages.

Team Pura Vida
[dictated via satellite phone on Sunday, December 9]