Things continue to go on much as they ever do.

I'm sitting in the saloon now, trying to decide whether I will survive the last twenty minutes between here and my bunk without getting wet again...and then we slam a wave and a dozen drops of cold water spatter down from the deckhead.

Simon Fleming and Josef have just retreated from the helm. Simon is warming his hands over the hob as the kettle heats up, and they're quietly arguing about whether the old hot chocolate was better than the new stuff.

A half dozen pairs of sodden gloves are swinging down the companionway netting, the morning bread is baked and wedged in tight. Our whiteboard shows 480 miles to go, and tells me that Seattle has won the Ocean Sprint (congratulations Dave and No. 1 and co).

All the best from the team on Imagine your Korea, Sam and Mike and co.