Race 3 - Day 15
Crew Diary - Race 3 Day 15: Cape Town to Fremantle
15 November

Wind Holes in the Southern Ocean

Welcome to the roaring forties:

Mountainous waves and thundering white horses;

Gusts of powerful, unconquerable forces;

Sea-spray blinding the vision of our courses.

But no... an ocean becalmed, our vessel stood still,

Our sails hanging limp, refusing to fill.

Hurry wind and blow we all focus our will,

On praying for Neptune to honour us still.

Shrouded by mist in our own wind hole,

Fast losing sight of our podium goal.

Baffled by all the stories told,

Of watery Himalayas and storms to behold.

An albatross soars past the bow of our boat,

So effortlessly he seems to float.

Looking back towards us I'm sure he gloats,

As we remain motionless as if on a moat.

At last anticipation of breeze on our cheeks,

Perhaps after all we'll not sit here for weeks.

Maybe the outlook isn't so bleak,

We may even reach Freo before Christmas.