Race 4 - Day 31
Crew Diary - Race 4, Day 31
18 December

Final Dawn Watch

04:00 am, 300(ish) miles west of Fremantle.

Last dawn watch of our trip currently written from the deck of PDE. Everything is still dark so I am writing (on paper) via red head torch. Anne, undisputed Mother of the boat, sits beside me in the Jamaican beanie hat that she has co-opted from lost property gently mocking the fact that I am writing a diary on deck. Mary, our watch leader, moves about constantly chatting with the helm and restlessly planning our next set of sail manoeuvres, all whilst chivvying the watch along and distributing snacks - never still for long. Tono has recently appeared on deck, complimented the ladies on the watch and proceeding to enter into a discussion with Mary in his Spanish / English about whether it is a good time to be ‘freezing his bits off’.

George is at the helm, tirelessly steering us arrow straight, inevitably smiling the whole time. Jeronimo has poked his head out of the navigation hatch next to the helm and asked what course we are steering (1. he already knows as there is a compass next to his bunk; and, 2. he also knows what course we should be steering, but he asks anyway to focus the helmsman’s mind), that done, he is soon on deck discussing our proposed course with those who loiter behind the helm. Nick is below (Mother for the day), inevitably busy cleaning, fixing, mending and making cups of tea - occasionally appearing, beaming at the companionway to announce his latest bread making adventure or simply to declare that ‘everything’ is awesome.

Andres is napping in what he describes as his ‘Atlantic chair’ (resting his feet on the leeward side of the cockpit whilst sitting on the ridge that runs down the middle of the boat) apparently asleep, in five more layers of clothing than anyone else, but instantly on his feet and in the middle of the action should any deck work be required. Dorthe has just left the helm to go and note our hourly position in the log, she will be back up shortly to gently help with whatever needs doing, quietly disapproving if anyone does anything too silly (with our best interest at heart) or answer a series of bizarre questions about her native Norway.

Andrew is asleep below deck having some well earned rest after a hectic 24 hours as Mother / sail repairer during which, he managed to link the lunch time pasta dish to syphilis, reveal an interesting fact about the same pasta and proceed to tell a riske joke about an Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman who have entered a bar, all before serving lunch. Ryan is also asleep, having been up all night doing this and that to prepare us for Leg 4 (he was awake at 3 am this morning making crumble) - he has left strict instructions to wake him in two hours for our next planned evolution, although we know that he will be back on deck in one to dispense Canadian wisdom (usually in six words or less with at least one friendly profanity) and keep us moving quickly.

As our watch draws to an end, Starboard watch will come up to take over. Bruce will soon emerge from below - as ever 30 minutes before handover; he will be asked how Mary and how he is, and inevitably will be ‘top of the pops’. Al will then follow onto the deck, wearing his bright green scrum cap always cheerful and humming and singing (when not doing his favourite impressions from good morning Vietnam) regardless of wind or weather. David H after that, dryly humorous, complaining about the ‘youth-youth’ of the boat (having appointed himself simply ‘youth’). The initial wave of the Starboard quartet will be completed by Ingo, outwardly serious but secretly as silly as the rest - ever willing to joke about the efficiency of his fellow Germans and endure the terrible attempts at accents by the rest of the crew.

After a very dark night, the sun is just about beginning to show in the pre-dawn turning the inky black sky to grey then orange and blue. Back to Anne, who in her role as boat conversationalist, confident and satirist, and having failed to get a reaction out of me has gone to make mischief elsewhere, keeping the crew amused in the closing stage of our ocean crossing as we push toward Fremantle.