After several days of licking our wounds, drowning our sorrows and preparing the boat, race day was upon us!
Our time penalty from the previous race was just an Old Pulteney induced clouded memory and we were focused and determined to show that our previous performance was no fluke.
The send off from Brest was not quite like London but our onshore support team of Kees's parents gave us a rousing farewell and the few local fishermen on the harbour wall dragged on their Gauloise and gave us a salutary shrug of their shoulders.
As we motored out to the start line the wind picked up and the swells grew as the Atlantic beckoned . A few faces whitened, but was it apprehension or the dreaded sea sickness setting in!
When the pre start horn sounded an amazing melee commenced as the boats pirouetted and danced around each other in a frenzy of colour and spray, all jockeying for the best position to cross the start line with us finally making it off in third or fourth position, keeling over at around a 45 degree angle.
During all this poor Gustavo and Emanuel were mothering away in the galley preparing the food for the day, in conditions that must have been unbearable - a huge thank you to them!
As the swells increased and the race opened up the whitened faces remained, unfortunately it was seasickness all along and a few faces were left staring at the bottom of a bucket or over the side of the boat.
Unfortunately this was not the only problem to afflict the boat as the dreaded main halyard failed us again and the mainsail crashed to the deck, the skipper quickly resolved this but time was lost and to further our woes when trying to raise the kite, in the early hours, the spinnaker halyard also snagged but this was something that had to be left to be rectified in the morning but was costing us time.
We enter the next day battered but undaunted.