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FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: We have had another liitle mishap. It was shortly before 4am when we heard a loud ripping sound from the foredeck which could mean only one thing: a sail in trouble. The stitching in the genoa had failed and the sail had torn for about 20 feet, from near the luff to the leech tape. It happened as we were fine reaching in 13 - 14 knots of wind. We had the sail down and No.1 yankee up in less than ten minutes, losing about half a mile to Courtaulds who we were tracking on radar six miles behind us. The tear proved to be a simple parting of the panels, without any damage to the cloth itself. The repair team started work after breakfast and by shortly after 6pm the sail was being bagged up in the companionway, job finished. It doesn't look as though we'll be needing the genoa for a while now though. Overnight it was blowing NW 25 knots on the beam, with our speed over the ground above 10 knots, heading straight down the line for Bishops Rock waypoint. It's a relief to be making good progress at last - perhaps we could arrive in Southampton in time for the party after all.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ Simon Montague writes: We have rehoisted our newly repaired 1.5oz race spinnaker and skipper Richard Tudor tells us he is delighted with the finished job. It is the first time we have reconstructed a spinnaker at sea during the entire race. We are relieved that we do not seem to have lost much ground through the mishap of two days ago. At last we seem to have left the fog banks behind, those thick grey blankets of nil visibility which are so profoundly miserable to endure. The stars are out tonight and tiny storm petrels rest occasionally on the foredeck, attracted by the mast light which illuminates the spinnaker. Who knows? We might even have some decent wind again before we reach Southampton. But then again, that might be asking too much. In eight days we have covered just 1300 miles. We hear BT is worried that the fleet won't arrive in time for the party on Friday next week. We very much hope they are making contingency plans to delay the celebrations, if necessary, until ALL the yachts are in. It's our party and we all want to be there.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ Simon Montague's verbal burble: When we left Boston we were one of only three yachts in the fleet which had not blown their new 1.5oz spinnaker issued in Cape Town. Not any more. This afternoon our race spinnaker became the victim of a heavy swell, the sudden movement of the yacht causing a shock load which tore the cloth across the windward clew, then ripped the whole way along the foot and up the starboard tape. Tonight we are sitting below deck unpicking 150 feet of stitching before repairs begin tomorrow. Earlier we fought our way around waypoint Alpha, the iceberg avoidance mark of the course. The wind direction veered just in time to lift us southward and save us from having to make a bad tack to reach the waypoint. The weather has been revolting, pouring rain, cold, dense fog at times, a nasty confused sea, who could believe it is July and mid-summer? As of 1950 GMT we were still third, but Toshiba had closed to within two miles behind us. Now that we have been forced to hoist our smaller, heavy spinnnaker, the worry is that our smaller sail area will start to cost us miles. We are very reluctant to use the other larger, 1.5oz promotional spinnaker in anything like marginal conditions, as the sailcloth is so weakened by premature deterioration that we fear it could easily blow too. Meanwhile our power supplies are also having problems. We are getting no power output from the alternator to charge the batteries. RHQ has given us a 48 hour dispensation to switch from generator to main engine while we try to analyse and if possible rectify the fault. At the moment there is a heavy drain on the batteries, as we need to make prolonged use of radar in the poor visibility.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Like the rest of the fleet, we continue to
progress at funeral pace. Which in the circumstances may be
appropriate, since early this morning a small bird crash landed on
the deck, and before it could be resuscitated with apple crumble
slipped over the rail. Then this afternoon we passed the macabre
sight of a floating dead whale, dozens of birds gathered on the
rotting white blubber of its back.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: As the sun glides down to the horizon it
throws a broken shaft of deepest orange across the water. The sea
responds, shimmering green, purple and blue, as though covered with a
film of petrol. We are utterly becalmed.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: For several hours overnight we are enveloped in a thick sea mist, making helming awkward and navigation potentially hazardous. We are on constant radar watch, with Group 4 and Heath less than a mile away. Two other blips on the screen, scarcely separated, are Motorola and Rover, who we can hear over the radio discussing how to avoid colliding with each other. It's been a day packed with incident. Early in the morning nearby 3Com blow their 1.5oz race spinnaker, allowing us to move decisively ahead of them. Later Group 4 are closing and come alongside, when we spot at least two sails on their deck which are not in the process of either being set or taken down. As crew members suddenly scurry to get the sails below decks, we lodge a protest with race HQ alleging that Group 4 are in breach of race rules. The wind increases slightly but we are surprised when Group 4, now slightly ahead, and Toshiba on starboard bow both change down to heavier 2.2oz spinnakers. We stick with our 1.5oz and overtake both before they change back to 1.5oz kites. Late in the afternoon we see Motorola blow their 1.5oz race spinnaker too, again falling back. As we passed over the continental shelf and into deep ocean, we have enjoyued frequent wildlife sightings, with a school of whales passing our stern and others being spootted ahead, and numerous displays by dolphins leaping from the water to entertain us. Overall it has been a good day, ending at 0150GMT this morning with us being polled in third place, 6 miles off the lead, compared with 11th place and 3 miles back 24 hours earlier.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
To Race HQ
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: If this is an African water torture, give us the Chinese variety any time. Late yesterday afternoon we are flying towards Cape Town under heavy spinnaker and 30 knots of wind, the downwind junkies on board screaming with excitement as our speed peaks first at 12.2, then 13.6 and finally 14.7 knots, the nose of the yacht burying itself in the wave in front as we surf down the crests of sparkling water. With a knot or so of the favourable Agulhas current, our speed over the ground towards Cape Town is even higher.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: The wind builds and dies, we get nearer to Cape Town and then come to a halt again, and the anticipation is reaching a crescendo. To add real pain to our already fevered brows, a couple of empty beer cans have come floating by, two hundred odd miles off the coast of South Africa. Some crew members had to be physically restrained from diving in after them to see if any last drops remained inside.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Dear Mr Blyth,
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague sobs: The inevitable has happened. The punishment of poor tortured circumnavigators. Timed to perfection, with food almost run out and land almost in sight. There's no wind again. The current is against us and 'distance to finish' is INCREASING, WE ARE HEADING BACKWARDS TO SYDNEY. Cancel the beer, cancel the party, book 14 ambulances to take us direct to the South African Institute for Mentally Deranged Sailors. WE CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE. Psychological treatment out here is primitive and barely effective. We are listening to Sounds of the Sixties CDs, humming along to Shirley Bassey and Tom Jones. The unopened bottle of tequila gold is about to be administered intravenously, but wait...is that floor tilting? Is that the sound of rushing water beyond the galley wall? Praise be to the Wind Pig, we are on the move again...
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Pls forward the attached to P2R. Unable to raise them on capsat, they are also having trouble getting thru to us.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Now into our sixth week at sea, supplies of main meals are officially exhausted. Luckily we have a plentiful supply of scraps which will keep us going for the moment, with nearly 1000 miles and perhaps a week's sailing before we reach Cape Town. There are surpluses of tuna, tinned ham, boil-in-the-bag pork and chicken, rice and instant mash from which we can construct decent meals, especially with the huge stock of spices, sauces and additives still in the cupboard. However we must stop throwing leftover meals over the side. Last night's pasta - which would have been today's lunch - is a few dozen miles behind us. Otherwise we'll be reduced to marmite and spam fritters...
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Hopes that the high pressure system off southeast Africa would allow us to catch up on the leaders seem to have evaporated. As the front of the pack were becalmed, we cut our distance behind the front yachts by more than 100 miles. But as we ran into the same lack of wind, they emerged the other side of the pressure system, and the gap has opened iup again. We find ourselves back where we started.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: After a couple of days catching up on the front of the fleet, who have been becalmed by a high pressure system, we have inevitably run into the same windless area. Result?: the leaders are on the move again, while we look forward to a frustrating day going nowhere, until the high pressure area moves over us. Hopefully we can hang onto gains made against those nearest to us, Rover and Time + Tide, who we are trying to overtake before Cape Town.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Excellent sailing conditions are prevailing for a third day, with a south or south westerly wind allowing us to continue making in excess of nine knots towards CT. NE is putting in among the highest mileages in the fleet, staying slightly to the south of our rivals, with more than 235 miles covered in the latest noon to noon GMT period. Long may it continue, and help us close the gap on the two nearest yachts, Rover and Time + Tide.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: We have had our second best 24 hour period of the leg, covering 213 miles in the qualifying period of noon to noon GMT, reaching westward in force 5/7 southerly breeze. It is freezing cold again in the Antarctic wind, but exhilarating helming the yacht
across the white crested rollers which surge endlessly beneath us. There is the constant adrenalin rush of knowing that the yacht must be kept on course, or she'll turn up to windward in an instant, flogging the sails and risking yet more of the damage which has plagued most of the fleet.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
There is huge excitement on board, as it seems we may be on the verge of an extraordinary and totally unexpected scientific discovery. Last night by moonlight the duty watch saw large numbers of fish leaping just in front of the boat, when one hit the mast and got tangled in the halyards. We went forward to discover what looked like a baby dolphin, about two foot long.
Fortunately our medic Helen Bentley is also a fish expert, having run her own fish pathology business for 16 years. She untangled the dolphin, checking it for injuries, then realised its markings and shape were quite unlike any she had seen before. A check of on board reference books could produce no match for its long beak and white and yellow colouring, or its extremely small size.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Please circulate the following to all yachts, concerning an important marine lfe discovery.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: As we near Cape Town, a series of on board supply crises are developing which will impose severe hardships on the crew. Our top five shortages are:
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Not for us the joys of an Easter lunch with roast joint, fresh vegetables and baked potatoes, washed down with red wine. No sign of festive eggs or choccy bunnies. Instead lunch is packet noodles with ham and tomato sauce. 'If I have any more of this I'm going to hoik up' legger Vinn McGuire tells the chefs, rejecting his bowl after a couple of mouthfuls. Pete Calvin avoids it altogether, heading straight for the Weetabix. Liquid refreshment is a glass of grapefruit squash, made from powder.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: It's been 24 hours of extraordinary contrast, even by Southern Ocean standards. Last night we were caught in another severe gale gusting storm force, as we rounded the Kerguelens. The westerly wind forced us south west, directly onto the bank of shallow water which surrounds the islands. With the full force of a deep ocean storm being forced onto a 200m deep shelf, sea conditions in the darkness were horrific. Vast breaking rollers and huge troughs into which we fell with enormous crashes. These are the sort of conditions we would have encountered in a gale off Cape Horn, where the water is similarly shallow. Bowman Simon Wardle was swept more than 20 feet down the deck into the cockpit, and was lucky to escape with no more than a badly bruised knee and very stiff neck, which may keep him off deck for a day or two.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Blue sky, bright sunshine, blue sea, moderate breeze, perfect sailing conditions, what more could we ask for? That it would last more than a few hours before the next north westerly gale hits. At least we are getting a chance to dry out. The level of dampness of one's thermal clothing seems to be the main topic of conversation these days. There is no getting used to, or enjoying, pulling on the same wet clothes watch after watch after watch. Most of us sleep in our inner thermals with wet socks tucked inside sleeping bags to dry them out, while mid-layer jackets and salopetttes swing from a hook on the wall, dripping onto deck shoes which are permanently sodden. The catch is that it is almost impossible to dry the inside of our drysuits, so the moisture waits there, ready to soak back into our clothes, and the whole cycle begins again.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: This morning 'A' watch had one of those experiences that make a journey through the Southern Ocean worthwhile. For half an hour we were treated to the majestic spectacle of a huge whale blowing and surfacing alonngside, as we head towards the Kerguelen Islands. Often no more than two or three boat lengths away, we could see close up part of its head, back and distinctive curved fin. We guess it was 50 or 60 feet long, and from its behaviour and our latitude, we are sure it is a rare sighting of a sei (correct) whale, omce abundant but heavily depleted by whalers in the 1960s and 70s. This whale is generally only seen close to oceanic islands, not near shore, so we are privileged to have witnessed it.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Last night we were lashed by yet another severe gale gusting storm force, the mainsail being hurriedly lashed down as the wind suddenly rose. We are sailing at up to 10 knots under no more than a couple of handkerchief sails - staysail (again repaired) and storm staysail (as flying jib). The vast power of the sea, the size of the waves and the relentless way it batters us as though no more than a cork is a humbling experience. We are left in no doubt that we are at the mercy of nature, and must bend ourselves to its ways if we are to make progress, indeed to survive. After so many sail tears we are acutely conscious of the need to preserve what we have left. Particularly missing is the No3 yankee, now written off, which means we are restricted in what we can use in heavy weather.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Could you please send latest LOTTERY numbers Thanks.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: The carnage continues. This morning we are without our heavy weather No.3 yankee headsail. Most of it is in the sail locker, but the top few feet remain up the mast, the sail having split apart in 35 knots of wind as we changed watches at breakfast
time. The forces of destruction were so powerful that three of the metal hanks which connect the sail to the forestay were torn clean off.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: We have broken out the emergency rations, after a shattering afternoon for the entire crew. Bad weather ment evening pudding never got made, while the violent motion of the boat meant those off watch had virtually no sleep all afternoon. With the crew despondent at lack of food and sleep, yours truly broke out a rich, alchol soaked, homemade fruit cake which has been secreted on board sinbce Wellibngton, donated to the cresw by a Kiwi supporter. Cries of delight rang round the galley table at this rare and true taste of home cooking. In fact, so much is there of the cake that more than half is left for Easter. At least we've something to look forward to, as we battle our way through this hellhole.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
TO PETE GOSS
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: We have seen our first iceberg, a vast ghostly white rock sticking clear out of the sea some 15 miles from the yacht. We would love to have gone closer, but this would have taken us off our racing line towards the Kerguelens. They're all the same' says Richard Tudor, the only one on board not racing from his bunk to see the spectacle. To see an iceberg is surely the ultimate souvenir sight of the Southern Ocean, a powerful reminder of just how lonely and hostile an environment this is we are passing through.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: Even though we have had to give up the relative comforts of an even keel and calm seas, we are glad that the wind has picked up again to speed us on our way to the Kerguelens. At times we have had the genoa up and been ghosting along at 3 knots in 5 knots of wind, which seems very unnatural in the supposedly gale lashed Southern Ocean. No doubt the next big blow will soon be with us, we just pray it's not as big as the storm of last Friday. All of us would be quite happy never to go through that again. We still haven't seen an iceberg, either on this leg or on the way from Cape Horn, apart from detecting a distant one
on the radar last night. It would be very disappointing to return home without at least once spotting one of these ultimate souvenir sights of the Southern Ocean.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: The world's toughest yacht race, around the globe against the wind, has totally unexpectedly turned into a downwind jaunt, at least for a few hours. Deep in the Southern Ocean, where the wind supposedly only ever blows from the west, we have the spinnaker up and the breeze behind us, as we head for the Kerguelen Islands. So rare is a tailwind in these parts that we think we are enjoying some kind of private breeze specially laid on for Nuclear Electric. helping us to cut 30 miles off the rest of the fleet in the latest poll.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
Simon Montague writes: We have begun a gentle weekend's spring cleaning, after a hectic week culminating in the storm on Friday. Soggy cream crackers, pieces of cabbage and broken popadoms which have been swilling in three inches of water on the galley floor have
been cleared, while an accumulation of porridge, stew and soup has been chiselled from the cooker.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: While half the fleet appear to have ripped sails as a result of the storm, we have our own brand of problem - steering failure. The wheel jammed hard over to port as we were hit by a huge wave this afternoon, leaving the yacht going round in circles in 30 knots of wind and big seas. At first we had grave concerns of underwater damage but soon Richard Tudor, working in freezing conditions with icy water slopping over him from the back of the boat. had identified the fault and begun repairs. The whole crew has been involved in the operation, securing sails, collecting tools and searching for spare parts. The failure is a frustrating blow, coming on top of two ripped sails earlier this week, and has cost us another four or five hours. We have again dropped back a position as a result.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC
tony mann writes from nuclear electric , deep in the southern ocean 2000 miles east of the kerguelen islands.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: We are sure friends and supporters are wondering what NE is doing languishing almost at the back of the fleet. Now is the time to tell. We have spent the last 36 hours in a hectic, exhausting, sleepless battle to repair the mainsail, which ripped almost completely in two while reaching in 30=35 knots of wind a couple of nights ago. We had just changed headsails and were bagging the old one to take below when it happened. In blackness and freezing conditions, 'A' watch struggled frantically to drop the main, heave it out of the sea and back inside the rail before lashing it to the boom for safety. We then raised the trisail. The operation took at least two hours, leaving our thermals soaked in sweat and condensation beneath our drysuits. Unsure of the extent of the damage, we waited for daylight and the wind to abate before bundling the sail, using a spinnaker halyard to hoist the end nearest the mast so we could slip the cars out of the gate in the mast track. Once lowered to the deck, we rolled the sail from both ends to leave the damaged middle exposed, then wrestled the main below. Trying to mend a sail measuring 75 by 25 feet in a corridor 3 feet wide is not easy. Richard Tudor led a team of Tony M, Helen B, Hakan R, Alan Wattling, Jos W, Duncan C and Vinn McGuire in the job of inserting several thousand stitches. At times Helen and Jos were tunnelling under folds of sail, lying on the companionway floor, to return the needle and thread from the underside. The team worked almost regardless of regular watchtimes, their sleep ration cut by half. Richard didn't see his bunk for 24 hours. The tear was around 20 feet long, from leech to within a foot of the luff. Most of the split was along the second batten pocket, so webbing has been used to bridge the torn cloth. Thanks to Richard's skills as a professional sailmaker, the finished job is a masterpiece of invisible mending, the sail now stronger than ever. At 4am this morning we hauled the main back on deck, reinserted the battens, and lifted the sail to relocate the cars in the mast track, again working under deluges of stinging spray, icy water and snow flurries. After final checks, it was rehoisted at 10am. The episode has cost us dear, We estimate we have lost at least 50 miles, and have slipped to 13th place. Our ambition to establish at least a top five position during this leg is in jeopardy. Today, we hope, marks the end of a week long 'demolition derby'. We have also blown the race spinnaker, holed and patched the promo spinnaker, ripped and repaired the staysail from leech to luff (previously unreported in the boat diary), and had the EPIRB washed overboard, There have been no crew injuries beyond a few bruises, but we are all now tired, short of sleep and our clothes damp from the efforts on deck. Now we are concentrating on trying to recover lost ground. More than ever it's going to be a long, tough old leg.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Australian rescue services must have thought they were about to launch another search mission for Brirish sailors in the Southern Ocean, after picking up a signal from Nuclear Electric's EPIRB this morning. Our locating device was washed overboard by a giant wave in the same waters where Tony Bullimore had to be rescued in the Vendee Globe. A swiftly sent message to race headquarters was passed onto the Australian marine services, reassuring all that there was no emergency. The first rough weather, with winds above 40 knots and gusts of up to 70 knots. has continued to take a toll of sea sickness a week after leaving Sydney. Five of the crew have been suffering to some extent, but still keeping a sense of humour, with Hakan Rodebjer exclaiming cheerfully 'What a shot, what a goal' as he vomited accurately over the side.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Once again our 1.5oz race spinnaker has given up the ghost at the frst sign of hard work. We collected the remaining shreds shortly before tea this afternoon, and have now buried them uncermoniously at the bottom of the forward locker. This sail seems to go pop so readily we've nicknamed it the Christmas cracker. It blew both half way through the first leg and again outside Wellington. The material is now so brittle that repairing it seems pointless because a) it's all to windward from here and b) even if it's not, the sail would probably only last a couple of hours before going bang again. The only reason we are keeping it on board is in case of a shortage of tissue paper later in the leg - the two seem to have about the same strength.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: As we leave the coast of Tasmania behind, our last glimpse of land for the next five weeks, we are mentally preparing ourselves for what lies ahead. We have heard the horror stories of the last race, when the wind did not drop below gale force for twenty days, when grown men wept at the pain of freezing flesh and at the exhaustion that comes when the will to survive wears thin. It is hard to believe, while we are under spinnaker on a warm summer's evening, that all this is about to end and that for the next five weeks we will be fighting a seemingly endless battle alone in the Southern Ocean. As if to warn us, tonight at dinner our skipper Richard Tudor read a passage written by one of his crew during this leg of the British Steel Challenge. Kevin Dufficy wrote: 'We have had sixteen days of non-stop gales. Storms have aged a few of us, exhausted us all and reminded everyone of the power of the sea'. Tonight too the fleet is splitting apart, after the closeness of last night when we could see a dozen yachts struggling to make headway in the slightest of winds. Now the breeze is up and we are scattering our own ways, each looking for the fastest route to Cape Town. It is far easier to race against rivals you can actually see, much tougher to keep going against an endlessly changing table of positions.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Tasmania lies just 10 miles away, basking in the morning sunlight. We feast our eyes on it, knowing it'll be our last sight of land for the next five weeks. Simon Wardle, coming on deck for the afternoon watch, asks: 'Have we reached Cape Town already?' I have to tell him he hasn't been asleep quite that long. New crew member Alan Wattling is developing a reputation as the 'Flying Legger', after some spectacular pirouettes below decks. His first flight took place in the galley, ending in a mild crash landing and a bruised knee. The next launch collided with the chart table. Skipper Richard Tudor rushed to the scene, worried about injuries.... to the SSB radio. Most spectacular was an aerobatic, triple somersault entrance into one of the cabins, occupied by Jos Walters. Alan's impression of the man with the Milk Tray failed to win her heart... Sickness has taken an unusual grip of the skipper, who has been under the weather since leaving Sydney. 'I'm never sick', he says, clutching his stomach in obvious contradiction. We fear an excess of hot curries, cold beers and late nights. We are very close to CU, Motorola and Heath, and only 9 miles off the lead, beating down the Tasmanian shore in fickle conditions. The race remains wide open, as we prepare to turn the corner into the Southern Ocean.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: We may have started this leg in ideal conditions, but it didn't last. By last night we were plunged into a succession of rain and lightning storms, the sky behind us almost constantly aglow as though lit by a giant flickering lightbulb. The essential precaution against lightning strike is to be clipped on at all times while on deck, in case of being thrown overboard by the ferocity of nature's electricity. Fortunately we were not a target. For a while today we picked up what must be one of the world's strongest offshore currents, carrying us southwards along the Australian coast at up to four knots. Trying to stay in this favourable current, by monitoring changess in sea temperature, is the trick at the moment. We are gradually overcoming the usual round of what airlines call 'motion discomfort' and the rest of us know as the technicolour yawn. About half the crew is affected to one degree or another, but the food on NE is so good (seriously) that even the daintiest stomach cannot resist at least a few morsels. Tonight's menu: Italian gammon, fresh carrots and potatoes, followed by chocolate cake.
FROM NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: A lively start to the Sydney - Cape Town leg, which for us was almost marred by a large spectator craft before we'd even crossed the start line. A couple of extremely heated cries from the foredeck saw the offending catamaran thrust into full reverse, just in time to let us through. We began almost at the front of the fleet, but a couple of slow tacks cost us time and places. An angry skipper demanded more effort: 'You've got to get those sails in faster guys, we're slow'. But then in a port on starboard tacking clash we were protested by Toshiba and forced to take a 720 degree turn ouside the harbour. By this time we were virtually at the back of the fleet. NE crew members don't give up easily though, and as the fleet raised heavy spinnakers for the reach south, we fought our way back into mid-fleet by late afternoon. It is amazing how fast we've fallen back into routine, after only a week's competitive sailing since New Year. Everyone knows their place, and jobs happen as if by clockwork. None of us is passionately keen about returning to the Southern Ocean, but we've got a job to do, so we're going to do it well and with purpose. No-one goes cruising in the Southern Ocean.
Leg 3
Yacht NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: We are extremely sad to be leaving Wellington behind, after a brilliant six week stopover there. There were many hugs, kisses and one or two damp eyes on the quayside as we said goodbye to our 'boat buddies' - the crew of local yacht Heaven 'n' Hell who have been our hosts, and become good friends of the whole crew. NE got off to a flying start in Wellington harbour, working our way up from a mid-fleet position to be 2nd round the third and fourth marks, then lead the fleet out into the Wellington heads. Our race spinnaker lasted precisely one hour and twenty minutes of this week-long leg, blowing out just as we were about to drop it. Crew member Hakan Rodebjer was already sitting at the end of the pole, ready to trip the spinnaker, when it happened. 'I'd just turned my back' said Haken 'when there was a huge bang. I thought for a moment the whole rig had gone and I was somehow sitting up there all alone.' For the rest of the crew, the incident barely merited comment. After 12,000 miles of ocean racing, we are used to dealing with sudden incidents. 'Great start guys, sorry about the spinnaker' says Richard Tudor, as we head west for Australia.
Yacht NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: As expected, leg 3 is turning into a close tacking duel across the Tasman Sea. NE, which was jousting last night with Save The Children, is now in tack-to-tack combat with Group 4. Over the 24 hours to 0500GMT we have moved up from 5th to 3rd place, but it remains extremely tight. With three quarters of the leg still to go, it looks quite possible that some of the yachts may stay in visual contact all the way to Sydney. Food on board for this leg is a combination of fresh and scraps. We have enjoyed a beef bourgignon, prepared in the comfort of Wellington, and bacon and eggs for breakfast. We have endured a chocolate cheesecake left over from the last leg. There are supplies of bananas, apples and oranges, and a selection of sweeties donated by our New Zealand 'boat buddies' from Wellington yacht Heaven 'n' Hell. Still to come are several rounds of the infamous frankfurters, which require cunning disguise as sausage rolls or drowning in spices, before any chef dare present them to the crew. We are all praying that the old favourite, 'cheesy mash' (UGH, AAGGH, YUK) makes no appearance before leg four.
Yacht NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: There was a sudden commotion alongside in the darkness, and an indefinable difference in the noise of the water rushing past. It could be only one thing: a pod of dolphins out on the town for the night. The sea lit up with parallel streaks of green phosphorescence, as from 30 or 40 feet off our stern pairs or threes of dolphins darted inwards towards and under the bow. Otherwise, the 'chairman's leg' as this Wellington to Sydney stage of the race is known, has taken on a new meaning. Mark Baker, legger and chairman of Nuclear Electric's co-sponsor Magnox, is strongly tipped to take the bruised leg award. He is sporting two substantial black patches, measuring an estimated 6x4 inches on the thigh, and 7x3 inches on the shin. The exact circumstances of how these personal mementoes of the race were obtained is unclear, but close bodily contact with winches is suspected. With the fleet now near becalmed in mid-Tasman by a huge, and hugely unwelcome, area of high pressure, we are trying to summon up the talents that brought us victory in the inter-yacht go- karting contest in Wellington. Crew members Tony 'Truck Driver' Mann, Mark 'Speed, Speed' Johnstone, Simon 'The Cossack' Wardle and Pete 'Mint Sauce' Calvin swept Nuclear Electric to a memorable win over Toshiba and Motorola. We await eagerly the BTGC prize- giving in Sydney.
Yacht NUCLEAR ELECTRIC Simon Montague writes: Nuclear Electric is a yacht of broken hearts, after the receipt of not one Valentine's message by tonight's post. We know there is a time difference, but cannot even one of our loved ones thought to have warmed our hearts with a message of affection? We console ourselves with some brilliant spinnaker racing. NE closed to within three miles of second placed Heath by lunchtime today, before a sudden and severe windshift, brought by a localised raincloud, forced us dramatically off course. Within minutes we'd lost more than a mile, ground we'd spent all morning making. With both boats changing down to heavy spinnakers, we closed again to two miles this afternoon before Heath threw up their bigger race spinnaker in a desperate bid to escape us. For the moment they are holding us off, as we dare not risk our one remaining 1.5 oz spinnaker in these marginal conditions, having trashed the other one during the start at Wellington. The last 300 miles promises to be tense and thrilling.
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