www.gipsymoth.org

Monday 24th July 2006
Nicole Starling & Elaine Caldwell reporting on board Gipsy moth IV as we face the biggest challenge of our life so far.

Position: 26’41.1 S 153’07.3 E 10pm EST Date: 24th July 2006

And so the dreaded shark dive day arrived! Elaine was on count down hour by hour & minute by minute as she began to realise the challenge she was about to undertake.

Simon (as usual) woke us up at 6:30am by banging rather loudly on the door that Gordon had put back on the hinges only a few days before. We were put straight to work by our passionate skipper & scrubbed the boat from top to bottom, polishing, flaking sails & scrubbing the deck. To be honest we are very boat proud & we actually really like seeing the boat when she looks all shiny & new but at 6:30 in the morning it’s not so much fun.

We set off to visit Dave & Pat to have a nice cup of well deserved tea made by Pat. It’s difficult to come to place, meet people that you are not familiar with, Sail with them & meet the extended family. Pat has been the one person who has been there when were down. Her smile & welcoming nature has made us feel like we are on familiar territory & for that we are truly thankful. We went to the UKSA Australia base in Mooloolaba & got some surf boards. For the first time since we arrived the sunshine came out to play on the sunshine coast. When we finally managed to hit the beach to try out surfing for the first time, the waves were not in our favour. They were small dumpers on the shore line. They were still lots of fun although Chris, Elaine and Nicole all seemed to get dumped by these not so big waves. We got cold and wet for the first time since we left the storm a few days ago.

Before leaving the nice sunny shore of Mooloolaba beach we had lunch and talked. Before we knew it time was getting closer to our shark dive. This unique opportunity had been kindly provided free of charge for all crew by Scuba World shark dive in mooloolaba. This is not an opportunity that comes around often but to get it for free is special. Slowly but steadily we left to go back to the marina to have some more much needed food. Not far long after our second lunch, we were headed to the little practice scuba diving pool. After meeting our instructor Noel and going through much needed safety rules, we were soon set off for our first practice dive. We soon realised that it was not that difficult to do, although the only difference after the practise was that sharks would be roaming around beside us AT ALL TIMES!!

We then began to make our way to the tank where we would be swimming with the big, ugly, and scary sharks. Seeing them for the first time above water seemed to have shocked Elaine and Nicole. Soon they both were about to face their biggest fear of this journey. Time seemed to pass slowly as we slowly one by one made our way into the tank with the signal of Noel. These sharks were no little ones that seemed friendly enough to play with! They were all ranging from 1 metre up to at least 3 metres! We were all placed against the tank wall and then taken individually in the middle of the tank to get photos taken and to let these huge monsters swim by us.

Elaine was the last of the three of us to stand in the middle of the tank to get photos. While it was her turn there seemed to be a crack through the water and sent a shock wave. None of us had any idea what had happened apart from our Noel who soon found himself trying to settle the now even more scared Elaine. Not long after this huge scary encounter, Elaine left Chris and Nicole to fight off these huge sharks themselves.

After being taken around the tank the rest of us managed to crawl our way out of this tank to find Elaine there waiting for us, half wishing she stayed in the tank till the very end, and half of her glad she got out when she did.

Afterwards talking to our instructor, we found out how big they were and which ones had the bad mood swings and / or were not always nice, we realised that we had the best time of our life in that water, no matter how scared we really where.

During onshore and offshore adventures, the whole crew found themselves constantly battling there fears, big or small.

Elaine Caldwell & Nicole Starling reporting from Gipsy Moth IV not too far from Brisbane at last.

Position: 27’22.3 S 153’18.5 E EST 5pm Date: 20th July 2006

We woke up early this morning as usual. The only difference with today is that today we are going to arrive in Brisbane sometime this afternoon. The first couple of hours took sometime and seemed to drag on. It was certainly something different to be sailing so close to land. It was a different site compared to the fog and clouds of the past couple of days.

The channels to finally get into Brisbane took sometime but eventually we got there after sometime of navigation and some miles. There were no fancy arrival people or boats. We had to wait around for David Green in his official boat, although there was just a couple of boats and an official boat from the Royal Queensland Yacht Squadron. It was really quite small. Although there was a couple of sailing yachts that came out quite late and only saw us coming through the last channel markers into the marina.

After our time on board Gipsy Moth, getting catapulted from one end to the other & hardly any food as it became a bit like mission impossible. The waves would jump into the plate & the food would jump out!! Elaine made the best lunch of the trip so far; toast on tuna with peppers & onions. What a relief it was & also a relief to realize that in the next few hours we would be back firmly on land.

The week has been very eventful and for it to becoming to an end is very sad. We have gotten very used to not sleeping and getting wet all the time. It was great to finally have a shower and a nice big feast for dinner. The meals were nice and big, and for once it didn’t move from side to side. It also didn’t get wet if you were attempting to eat in the cockpit.
It was so nice to have a shower and to be able to wash our hair. It was that to Nicole’s horror, that for once in 4 or 5 days, she stopped smelling (although that’s what she thought!) Seeing the friendly faces of Brisbane was also a welcoming comfort that we did not get stuck in the storm and getting lost was no longer in the back of Nicole’s head.

I have really started to wonder why and how Sir Francis did it. I think that he was a born adventurer. I also think that he got an idea in his head and would not stop until he finished or died trying. Very fortunate that he did finish otherwise I would not be on the best adventure.

We are sitting on the boat absolutely shattered but contemplating what the previous 4 days have meant to us & trying to make sense of what we have just been through in our heads. As we do this, we wonder what the next few days will bring. We only hope that although it was tough the spirit & the morale will still be here as we continue on our voyage to Mooloolaba & the not so sunshine coast!!

Chris Bray onboard for Yachting Monthly.

Position: 26 deg 39.7 S 153 deg 8.4 E … Date: 22th July 2005

7:15 am, the dull drone of a biplane filtered through the low cloud ceiling above the Royal Queensland Yacht Club. The classic gypsy moth aircraft - to see us onboard Gipsy Moth IV off on our way to Mooloolaba to complete Leg 15 from Sydney - burst into view and growled dramatically as it swung in low over the club. There was one small problem - we’d already left over an hour ago. After hunting around for a little while, the pilot, seated in the planes roaring open-cockpit, opted to simply whirl around the club a few times before heading home.

A good eight miles down the passage back out to the coast, the six of us onboard shook our heads in wonder and laughed as Simon relayed news of this confusion. We had a fleet of four or five yachts tagging along to kindly escort us outside anyway – at least some people had been told the right time and place. Not to worry though - our perpetual schedule ticked ever onwards.

“How are those eggs coming along David?” Our skipper Simon dipped his head down the companion way hatch. Rain spattered the cockpit. Dripping, he sharply pulled is rain-hood forward, jerking a shower of water from it. “Queensland’s ‘Sunshine Coast’… What a joke” he grinned. David passed two ‘soft boiled’ eggs up through the hatch, each rolling precariously on a plate as the boat lurched and swayed. Gordon - our jolly Santa-impersonator 1st mate - reached out announcing “I’m going do this the easy way…”. Elaine, Nicole and I burst out laughing as ‘Gordy’ simply tucked one of the eggs – still in its shell – inside his wet-weather gear pants and proceeded to eat the first one, passing the empty plate back. Not long after, the boat - not very surprisingly - rolled gently. As Gordon casually leant against the side of the cockpit to brace himself, the egg promptly exploded in his pocket. None of us had laughed so hard since… since about 5 minutes before, when setting the cruising jib, Gordon’s hat blew off into the water. “That always happens”, he pouted, “I go through at least three hats every time I cross the English Channel you know…”.

After the trauma of the trip to Brisbane, we were all greatly enjoying the chance to sail in relatively calm seas. Only up to about 15-20 knots of breeze, 2 knots of tide helping us out, and less than 1m swell. It was disconcerting just how much things WEREN’T moving down below. From force of habit we kept we still adopted the ‘Gipsy Moth Posture’ – this is where we’d have to move around down below in a pre-brace position, always ready to fend-off any walls or bulkheads that could suddenly spring out to mug us from any side. Not only was the weather calmer, but the whole atmosphere of day sailing as opposed to overnight voyages is radically different: Without needing to define structured watches, all six of us are awake sharing tasks, sharing laughs, and generally enjoying ourselves.

Excitement peaked later in the day as Elaine suddenly yelled “There’s a fish!”, her face lighting up as she raced back to the stern where she’d payed out our trolling line. I grabbed the video camera as she gradually wound in the straining line. Unfortunately, the more she wound in, the less the ‘fish’ pulled. It was at last so close we could see it clearly – the little pink squid lure dancing in the yachts wake, with no fish anywhere to be seen. “Oh… no!” Crushed, she turned to the camera, “There is no fish… We’ve been ripped off by the sea….!” And burst out laughing, again.

As we glided northwards towards our destination, I slipped down below and made pancakes for a belated lunch. Above decks, Simon suffered a media interview over his mobile phone, while a myriad of other yachts started to gather around us to escort us in. Atlast with less than a mile or two to go before the breakwater, the two Gypsy Moth aircraft did another fly-past, this time right above us. The fleet of reception boats grew and grew, and the air was filled with the soundings of various horns. In answer, we blasted our own gas-canister horns as we turned for the final approach in over the bar. The crew and I lowered the fenders over the side, and crouched on the rail, mooring warps in hand, waiting. “If I run into something now,” Simon laughed nervously, “If I even run this iconic yacht aground in the next few minutes, I’m done. The whole world is watching…” He had a point, but there was nothing we could do, except keep waving at the passing boats, and throngs of people standing on the breakwaters to welcome us. In fact, we’ve done so much prolonged waving on this trip that I was starting to worry about getting RSI.

“1.2m under the keel… 1m…” We all watched Simon as he watched the depth gauge. The powerboat leading us to our berth still headed confidently onwards, and we followed. Mercifully, we gracefully slid alongside our designated VIP wharf, leapt off and simultaneously flicked the lines around the cleats. We had made it. “Welcome to Mooloolaba!” The marina manager shook our hands heartily.

After scrubbing the decks, it didn’t take long before we were all ashore having drinks and pizza. Despite having to wake at 6:30 for media interviews, the six of us celebrated onboard until about 3:30am. After 8 days of unforgettable experiences, in just a few short days we all fly home, leaving Simon to meet his new crew that will embark on the next leg of this remarkable journey.

Position: 10 miles east of Stradbroke Island, East Coast of Australia
Chris Bray onboard for Yachting Monthly.


“Now… Do you want the good news, or the bad news?” Our perpetually cheerful 1st mate Gordon grinned up at us battered figures in the cockpit while the gale continued to rage around us. “The good news is… we still have a door to the forward cabin.” Nicole and I blinked at each other through salt-blasted eyes. “The bad news is… “ Gordon started laughing, “It’s not attached anymore. I just fell right through it.” As hilarious as this was, it came as no real surprise – Gipsy Moth IV – this national treasure – was taking a beating down below mainly from the crew failing to hold on like Gecko’s as we hurtled towards Brisbane on Leg 15 from Sydney. Slap bang in the middle of the worst gale to ravage the NSW coastline this year, all six of us onboard had been severely tested these last 12 hours, and so far, so good. We were all technically still alive. A growing list of pieces of Chichester’s yacht however, were starting to flat-line on us.

The conditions out here in the Tasman Sea are just unforgettable. I grew up sailing around the world for 5 years, and never have I seen anything like this. As a family we’d sailed conservatively – waiting for the weather, but here on GMIV, we were running to a world-wide schedule and were not interested in sheltering in port from a minor nuisance such as this Force 8-9 gale that now furiously attacked the ocean around us – after all Sir Francis had put GMIV through far worse conditions and she is still able to handle it. It’s hard to describe quite what it’s like. Waves don’t just get ‘bigger’ in stronger winds, they grow angrier. Despite being pitch black at night, we could see these ogres charging around us because they were perpetually breaking – falling over themselves in their hurry to dash themselves against us. The wind incessantly screaming past whipped the crests of these waves clean off, streaming them along the surface like spindrift… 5m waves – towering as high as our spreaders - bore down directly into the open cockpit. Whoever was at the helm had one hand tightly around the wooden tiller, and the other arm wrapped around a winch. We stared unblinking at the illuminated compass half obscured by the horizontal rain despite being no more than 1m away from us. Taking it in turns of approx 30min at a time, we did our best at feeling the waves coming, and guiding GMIV down the crumbling face of each giant as they roared past; Feet braced horizontally across on the cockpit seat to the far side, pulling the tiller towards us with everything we had, bum off the seat, sometimes was just not enough. I could hear the really big ones coming – there was no need to look back anyway - just a quick glance across at Nicole’s face was plenty. If she was looking in terror directly behind us, then all was ok. If she was looking in terror UPWARDS behind us, that meant trouble. A thundering roar in the pitch-black darkness would then reach a crescendo, and the body of water as big as garage (for want of a better word) would simply move itself into the cockpit. Eventually it would drain away – not so much because of the little drains in the floor – but more because we were healed at like 50 degrees it just fell out. Sputtering, we’d regain control, wipe the water out of our eyes, look at each other and involuntarily burst out laughing at the sight. It was, at times, terrifying. But it was always exciting.

So this storm hit about noon yesterday, and all I have to report in this log for the following 24 hours is that… nothing has changed. We are still in the teeth of the gale, still rocketing along at 8 to 10 knots under the Storm Jib alone, we are all wet, we are all bruised, we are all utterly spent, but we are all in high spirits and holding up very well. I wish we could say the same for the yacht. A crunch followed by hysterical Gordon-laugher kicked things off – he’d broken his sling-bunk and fallen through into the storage boxes beneath. Not long after, he fell through the cabin door. Then he put his hand on a hinging part of the galley table, and ripped it completely off its hinges.

To our horror, the ‘stove’ – the newly installed diesel cooker – released what always was a tentative grip on life, and died, leaving us without life-giving coffee and more seriously, cold tinned food from now on. At last, Simon mercifully realised it was in some automatic hibernate/safe mode after two failed starts due to low battery voltage. A quick run of the engine to charge the batteries fixed that, and life became bearable once again.

GMIV rolled from side to side. Below decks it was deafening – it sounded as though every cupboard hid behind it a loose shopping trolley filled with cannonballs. Rollllll.. BANG.. rollll BANG-Click-spill onto floor. Good times. Oh yes, several other cupboard ‘lockers’ decided to become permanent ‘unlockers’ today, and one of the shelves inside the galley cupboard collapsed. Moving around down below requires making carefully timed and calculated transfers from hand-rail to hand-rail, until eventually – as Simon found out – you end up on your back with hand-rail in-hand, no longer attached to the wall.

The stern of GMIV looks like a war-zone. The danbuoy was ripped off during the night, leaving only a small splintered fragment of plastic where it used to be. Both horseshoe liferings hang at tormented angles, and the odd blinding flash of astern reveals that yet again one of their beacon lights has been torn free and is trailing and skipping in the water behind. The number of times I crawled back to rescue these life-saver rings… I tell you, they owe it to themselves to return the favour oneday. The once glamorous dodgers spanning the lifelines on either side at the stern have had their eyelets jerked out of them, and now flail threadbare, clinging on only at the front and part of one side. Thankfully, although superficially scared, structurally, the hull and rig of GMIV is holding together no problems. Amidst the excitement, it is certainly sobering to realise that all that stands between you and the ocean are a few planks of wood. Old wood – except for the new planks fitted in NZ to fill the gaping hole…

I believe today was Wednesday, and we expect to head into Brisbane tomorrow afternoon, and there is no predicted change in the weather. All six of us onboard are longing to get in, to have a shower, and to be dry. All six of us are exhausted, and to think Chichester managed this yacht, around the world, alone, is mind-boggling.

Position: 20 miles Sothe East of Clarence Head

Chris Bray onboard for Yachting Monthly.

“Six O’clock! Time to get up mate.” My dreams of stable, dry warm places instantly vaporised, giving way to the harsh reality: Yes, I was still onboard Gipsy Moth IV, in the middle of the Tasman Sea, still heading for Brisbane on Leg 15, still no howling winds… hey – still no storm!?! All yesterday we’d been waiting for this ‘storm’ that is supposedly chasing us to finally leap forward and strike us down… but instead it remained crouching ominously just below the horizon astern, toying with us, still.

So, on with the wet-weather gear, and back to the helm. The other half of our GMIV team – 1st Mate Gordon with crew Elaine and David, now off-watch lingered around while Nicola made bacon sandwiches for breakfast. Pouring over the nav table, our skipper Simon leant back and announced “11:00 I’d say - that’s when this party will really kick off I’d say.”.

And so it was for the next few hours… quietly taking turns at the helm between writing logs, and plotting our arduously slow course Northwards along the Australian coastline. The weather was so mild that I even had the opportunity to lay forward over the bow between the pulpit to snap a few images of GMIV’s bow knifing cleanly through the rolling swell. That’s the beauty of digital cameras – wave it at arms length precariously below the bow enough times, and the simple laws of probability dictate that eventually one of the photos will be pointing in the right direction.

11:00 came… and went. And still there was no storm. “Looks like it might be going to miss us…” Simon’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the tongue of cloud spearing past us to starboard. And then the rest of the cloud appeared - a smothering black blanket galloping towards us. “It’s alright mate…” Simon grinned, “It’s 12:00 now!” We couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Gordon’s face as he led his crew up into the cockpit. “Enjoy” And we dropped below decks.

Sleep wasn’t an option anyway. The swell grew into ever more humbling giants, and the dial on the wind speed meter was behaving more like the hands of a clock. 20 knots. 25 knots. 30 knots. Each wave would lift our stern, surge us forward, and then unceremoniously drop us off the back, leaving us peering upwards at the towering face of the next wave bearing down above the stern. They say there’s no such thing as bad weather - just bad clothes, and David at the helm certainly had the best – but unfortunately, they were down below. Wave after wave ripped along the side deck into the cockpit, or simply rolled onboard from the stern. Our impressive 7 knots of boat-speed rose to 8 or 9 as we rocketed down waves, rolling from side to side…

Below decks none of us three got even a wink of sleep. It was no good – one might as well try and have a nap inside a washing machine, one where the lid was occasionally opened and the contents of a random chart table or galley draw was emptied into the mix. I lay there with my iPod trying to drown out all the ‘slide….bang… sliiiiiide.. BANG….’ noises. A particularly vicious gust hit causing GMIV to obediently lay down at some ridiculous angle, and it was then that my iPod made a break for freedom – wiggled it’s way out of the shelf beside me, flew horizontally across the full width of the hull and slammed into the far side. From where I lay – unconnected earphones dangling from my ears – I could see the error message on the screen: “apple.com/service”.

Conditions deteriorated. Simon went up to replace David at the helm – who by now closely resembled a drowned rat. An almighty wave followed him along the cockpit and spilled down the companion way below. “Put the washboards in!!!!” Simon handed me the slide-in boards that seal off the cockpit, and slammed the hatch shut. Down below I lay back in my sling bunk and marvelled at how I could see the ocean through the ceiling hatches. “Mobile reception!!” I turned to see David holding his mobile skyward towards another hatch, as though offering it to Neptune as a sacrifice instead of his own life. Admittedly, I soon joined him, willing my sms messages to send to the outside world, to convince us that we were some way still liked to it out here.

After a hearty pasta & Irish stew combo dinner prepared by Nicole, Simon made a routine phone call to David Green – one of the organisers of this GMIV project. “Oh yes, we’re all ok, we’re having a whale of a time out here…” Sure. I could see the similarities. A whale. An air-breathing mammal, immersed in water for long periods at a time. In truth though, we were all having a brilliant time. For some reason, spirits were at an all time high, and the unmistakable spark of life burned in everyones eyes. Yes, this was what it was all about.

6:00 ‘till 10:00 was our watch again, and huddled in the cockpit we felt increasingly dwarfed by the forces at work around us as the daylight quickly ebbed away leaving nothing but the howl of wind past our tightly drawn hoods in our ears, and the crumbling white halo of thundering waves around us. 30 knots. 35 knots. 40 knots. “If we’re registering 40 knots of windspeed...” I yelled into Simon’s ear, “.. and we’re sailing downwind at 10 knots…”. “Yeah mate…” Simon’s grin flashed in the darkness, “Yeah, she’s blowing 50 knots at times…” No comment.

At one point the boat speed dial pushed 11.5 knots, horrifyingly fast, considering the only sail we had up was the No.2 working jib. BAMM! Tearing down the face of some of these giant 4 to 5m waves caused GMIV to slew up to 30deg off course, sometimes jibing the headsail with a deafening crack as the wind re-filled her again. Despite being shackled on, I was clinging to one of the backstays and could feel it writhing under my hand like a tortured snake, flexing and twisting. There was something not quite right about the way the headsail was flying. What was it? Simon flashed his torch. Atleast 5 of the hanks had been pulled off the forestay – the sail was clinging on merely at the Tack, Head, and a few scattered points inbetween. Expletive. “We’re going to have to take it down!” Simon yelled above the noise. My eyes widened. So did Nicole’s when he passed her the tiller. “You’ll want to get yourself ready for this…” Simon warned, “This is NOT going to be fun.”.

Gordon came up from below to keep Nicole company at the helm, while I said my final goodbyes and shackled onto the deck harness line and, against every instinct, stepped out of the cockpit and followed Simon on all 4’s onto the foredeck. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t hear a thing above the wind and waves splattering my hood and swirling around my feet as Nicole expertly guided GMIV through the Force 8-9 gale with us clinging like limpets to the deck.

Simon chose to back the No.2 first so that it dropped onto the deck instead of flailing over the side. “Now!” Simon’s mouth formed the words and I released the halyard. The battered headsail fell to the deck, bristling with bent and mangled hanks. As the bow leapt and plunged into the waves, we battled to tie it down while trying to simultaneously keeping the screaming winds from snatching away the bright orange storm-jib we had pinned under us ready to put up in its place. Nicole expertly steered GMIV under bare poles as Simon tied on the halyard while I tied on the sheets. “Ok, pull her up!” Wind laced with buckets of water stung my face as I pulled for all I was worth on the halyard. The sail thrashed violently, viciously whipping and cracking. “One of the sheets as flung off!” Simon shouted, “We’ll have to drop it… drop it! Drop it!” Well I’ve never seen a bowline thrash itself apart before. Simon re-tied it and once more waited for the right moment and gave me the signal. “PULL!!” Again the angry orange sail rode from the deck and flailed like a thing possessed. The sheet ropes lashed around violently, cracking and slapping brutally into everything, including me as I clung on by the mast trying to winch up the halyard. Oh the pain! “Pull in the sheet!!! Pull in the sheet!” Simon roared back at the cockpit where there was obviously a problem pulling it in. The sail continued to flail unchecked, biting into me until I at last managed to take out the winch handle and dive for shelter behind the mast.

30 minutes after first leaving the cockpit, Simon and I eased ourselves back in, grinning like idiots. “Well…” Simon looked at Nicole who was trying her best to look angry but couldn’t help but smile, “Was that fun or what?”.

Position: 10 miles east of Camden Head (31 37’.3 S 152 02’.5 E)

Chris Bray, Crew Leader onboard for Yachting Monthly

Off the starboard bow of Gipsy Moth IV, the moon’s glowing disk rose silently above the low lying cloud on the horizon. Huddled in the cockpit beneath our heavy oilskins, Nicola and I watched as its silver reflections danced over the gently rolling ocean towards us. The odd wave slapped hard against the windward side, sending a shower of water pattering against the back of our hoods, momentarily jerking us back from the sleep-deprived void through which we drifted. As GMIV slipped ever-onwards towards Brisbane, my wristwatch sounded midnight – marking the end of our first full day at sea on this Leg 15 from Sydney, the end of an interesting 24hrs.

Midnight last night I was off-watch, lying pinned against what should have been the back of the saloon seat, trying to ignore the rising feeling of dread within me – unfortunately my being physically seasick was no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’. Time ticked past, marked by the incessant rising and plunging of the bow as GMIV pounded to windward on Port tack up the Australian coastline. Although I grew up sailing around the world with my family, that was many years ago – and as for Nicola, this was her first night-sail, and first time outside the harbour – so neither of us, nor the other crew members David or Elaine, were appreciating this messy swell. As Hugo Vihlen once commented, “I don’t know who named them swells. There’s nothing swell about them. They should have been named awfuls.”. Moments later I was back on watch – watching, that is, the churning water tearing past right in front of my face as I leant over the leeward lifeline, generously sharing some of my dinner with the fishes. Evidently they were still hungry, despite David’s remarkable efforts earlier. Healing like only GMIV can, the starboard deck itself was knifing through the occasional wave, adding insult to injury as I clung grimly onto the shrouds, knee-deep in rushing water.

After a minute or two the nausea passed, and I slunk back to the cockpit to relieve Nicola of the helm. “Steer her 030” our skipper, Simon, cheerily nodded at the newly-installed bulkhead-mount compass – just one of the new additions to GMIV after its recent mishap in the Pacific. It was great to finally have her, at last, voyaging again, and back on track. We have about 6 days to get to Brisbane – plenty of time. Time enough even, to avoid using the engine when the wind and waves mercifully slackened right off in the wee hours of the morning.

Colour returned to the cheeks of all aboard, and I took advantage of the lull to make everyone tuna sandwiches for lunch, at last feeling human again. “So what trolling-gear do we have onboard Simon?” I asked. The tinned tuna just wasn’t cutting it for me - I was seriously hungry now. I selected a trusty pink squid-like lure and paid it out over the stern, tied it off, and waited expectantly. The novelty wore off along with my hunger when Nicola produced a cake that her Mum had kindly brought aboard for us yesterday in Sydney. Life on GMIV eased into a state of tranquill weariness. Our interest flared from time to time as random ships on the horizon promised the chance of a collision at sea, only to steam past too far even for a decent photograph. Better safe than sorry I guess, especially when a national relic is concerned!

Speaking of old ships, the closest encounter we had all day was with what to all intents and purposes looked like a traditional pirate ship – cannon hatch and all. Bristling with square sails, it was mildly reassuring to see that we were at least travelling faster than someone. Simon and 1st Mate Gordon were right though, it was getting a bit ridiculous. When our speed dragged below a tedious three knots, we fired up Chichester’s old engine and picked up the pace. “We want to put as much distance between us and what’s behind us as possible…” Simon commented from below, adding, as we nervously glanced aft, “There is a 35 knot southerly chasing us, with seas expected to rise to up to four meters.” He turned his attention back to the weather chat on the laptop, swirling the mouse pointer around the map reading off the predicted wind speeds from the bottom. There is quite a current that runs down the East coast of Australia if you’re offshore. We have to be out offshore here though, as in closer is a tangled minefield of crab-pots waiting to snare the prop. This means wind-against-current, which unfortunately translates to exceptionally messy waves. Great. “It should hit us about 23:00 tonight I’d say…” Simon shut the laptop. And so the waiting began.

Peering around the deceptively flat ocean, Nicola spotted the dorsal fin of a large shark slicing through the water, followed alarmingly far away by its tail fin. A shower of little bait fish boiled from the surface in front of him as he cruised along. Yes, definitely not a good idea to be inshore around those crab-pots, I for one wouldn’t be volunteering to leap overboard to cut us free.

The afternoon ambled past, and while I prepared a dinner of pasta carbonara below on the new diesel ‘stove’ (it takes about 15min to boil a single kettle of water…), the others prepared for the immanent belting by putting a 2nd reef in the main, pulling down the missen mainsail, and generally lashing everything down.

As dusk gave way to night, the stars punctuated the sky above us, burning surprisingly brilliantly out here away from the light-pollution of civilisation. I even caught a glance of my third shooting star since starting this voyage. Stars everywhere, including astern… “Where is this so called ‘gale’….?” It was the question on all our lips, the forecasts kept saying it should be arriving anytime now, and yet there is scarcely a cloud in sight, certainly no sign of the ominous nightmare apparently catching up with us from behind.

Agh well, it’s 2:00 am, so it doesn’t matter anyway. That’s the end of my watch for now. Time to wedge myself against the cabin seat below decks and try for some much needed sleep. “Come on.. where are you Mr Wind??” Simon tapped his fingers in frustration. Just between you and me, I’d be quite happy to wake for my next watch in four hours and find things just as they are now thank you very much… Here’s hoping….

Position: 22 miles east of Norah Head (33„a 21¡¦.9 S 152„a 58¡¦.2 E)
by Skipper, Simon Hay from UKSA

Gipsy Moth IV slipped gracefully through Sydney Heads this afternoon at 1600 hrs local time. As has become the norm during our week long stopover in Sydney, we were accompanied by a number of vessels and several water taxis bristling with camera lenses, as well as a number of news channel helicopters.

Our time in Sydney has once again shown just how much Gipsy Moth IV and Sir Francis touched the hearts of so many people. Throughout the week we have had many visitors to the yacht bearing photographs and stories of their parents and themselves when Sir Francis stopped in Sydney back in 1967. The city has been no less welcoming to the re-born Gipsy Moth IV, with a series of high profile events, including our Patron, HRH The Princess Royal taking the opportunity to sail the yacht in Sydney Harbour. The week culminated with Gipsy Moth IV being on display to the public at the Australian National Maritime Museum in Darling Harbour, where thousands of people took the opportunity to take a look around this iconic yacht.

However, the end of the week my thoughts (as skipper) had turned to the forthcoming voyage and getting GMIV ready for sea once again. The recent repairs in New Zealand are a true testament to the craftsmanship and focus of the Kiwi¡¦s as a nation of boat builders, but there were still many small jobs to be done. Our first challenge was to get the satellite communications up and running again so that you can all continue to follow the experiences of the young people onboard. We had partial success with this, but are confident all will be back to normal soon. The rest of the work mainly involved restowing the yacht and securing the deck for sea.

The crew onboard for this leg include 3 young people from Sydney (Nicola Starling, David Thackray and the crew leader Chris Bray), and Elaine Caldwell who you may remember was on GMIV for the fist leg of the voyage from Plymouth to Gibraltar. The first mate is Gordon Berry a Yachtmaster Instructor from UKSA. All of the crew worked hard for the last two days in Sydney getting the yacht ready whilst accommodating the need to allow the public to view the yacht.

With the food onboard and the yacht ready we slipped from Darling Harbour at 1500 hrs and made our may out of the harbour. Initially the wind was only F3-4 from the NW but as the evening progressed the Tasman Sea began to live up to its reputation as the wind built steadily to F6-7 gusting 8. Fortunately due to the short fetch the swell was running at only 2-3m and not breaking. However, for the young crew onboard this was quite an initiation, there were several green faces and some talking to the great white phone, but overall they performed admirably. They had no hesitation in following Gordon and I onto the foredeck to change reef down the main and drop headsails as conditions worsened. There was a moment when Elaine muttered something along the lines of "You would think once was enough!", but even she seemed to be enjoying the ride.

Thanks to a generous offering by Dianne Starling (Noicola¡'s mum), which was gratefully received by Gordon, we had a ready-made meal in the form of spaghetti Bolognese and a lovely cake for dinner. We are still getting to grips with the new Wallas diesel cooker, but I am sure we will prevail.

The forecast for Monday is light winds throughout the day from the NW, backing W/SW during the night and building to 20-30Kn, gusting 30-40Kn, so stay tuned to see how it goes.

Reading the voyage log for yesterday makes interesting reading (50 knots from astern!) but it looks like the weather is gojng to moderate a bit as Gipsy Moth IV gets nearer to Brisbane.

The forecast chart shows winds of around 20 knots from the south and the forecast is still for the wind to become more easterly and continue to moderate.

If the skipper and crew are getting local forecasts from the Australian Bureau of Meteorology, they will find the following information for their area:

Far North Coastal Waters,Tweed Heads to Wooli and 60nm seawards:
Strong Wind Warning
Thursday until midnight: Wind: S/SW 20/30 knots Sea: 2 to 3 metres Swell: S 3 to 4 metres.
Friday: Wind: S/SE 15/20 knots. Sea: 2 metres Swell: S/SE 2 to 3 metres
Saturday Outlook: Wind: SE 13/18 knots.
Sunday Outlook: Wind: SE 10/15 knots

You can find all the Australian marine forecasts at http://www.bom.gov.au/marine/index.shtml

Gipsy Moth IV is now offshore and making her way north from Sydney. As you can read in the first entry in the Voyage Log, they have already experienced winds gusting up to force 8.

The weather graphic shows a large area of low pressure centred to the west of New Zealand, and with high pressure to the west of Tasmania this has resulted in a strong southerly wind right up the east coast of Australia. The Moth will be rolling along!

Over the next few days the high pressure will drift east and the wind should go easterly and reduce in strength.

After a few weeks when the Moth has been enjoying some TLC in the skilled hands of our antipodean friends, we have not been tracking the weather for the voyage. But the second half of the second circumnavigation of Gipsy Moth IV is about to start, so it's time to look at some charts again!

The weather around Sydney today is dominated by an area of low pressure to the west and a high to the south east. As the winds in the southern hemisphere circulate around these features in the opposite direction to the way it works in the north, this means that there is a strong northerly wind down the coast.

So if the Moth was setting out to head north towards Brisbane today - it would be a bumpy ride.

However, over the next two days the low is forecast to become less intense and drift to the east. This means that by the time they head out of Sydney the strongest winds should be well offshore and there may well be a favourable breeze off the land to make some miles to the north.

The other bit of news is that I will be joining Gipsy Moth IV as the Mate when she arrives in Mooloolaba in about two weeks time. So for most of August, as we voyage up the Great Barrier Reef, you can expect some weather reports direct from the cockpit!

Andrew Eccleston
Official Meteorologist