EM : "The sun came up this morning and it was 0100 GMT. I’m not really sure which time zone I’m in or where I belong right now. Just a few days ago, I belonged on KINGFISHER2 on a mission to break the Jules Verne record Record #sailingrecord . I know now I still belong here but in a very different sense.

The guys are just having lunch here but my watch says 0900 GMT. It got light at about 0100 so what happened to the night ? We’re on the other side of the world but my head’s in London, Paris, Europe. Come on, Ellen, it’s your job - just keep it together, take a deep breath, don’t close your eyes and deal with it - soon you can sleep. I was up through most of the darkness doing interviews which seemed to take forever. Especially as I was tired, really tired ; and a couple I did not even make the start of failing to keep my eyes open, failing to remain conscious for the call. You know that you’re really exhausted when you wake with the phone still in your hand an hour later having no recollection of the last words you spoke.

I woke, my head brimming over with images, remembering those moments before dawn KINGFISHER2 sat lifeless, mast-less and, painfully, just sticking to the waves. I pull myself together and remembered being watched over for some strange reason ; then I remembered - our silent friends. The albatross were watching us, coming closer than ever - even flying feet away from us in an inspection of this new visitor. I guess for the majority of albatross they never see a boat in their lives - people like us are not so common down here. That morning we heard the call of the albatross, Ronny tells me that’s very rare at sea. It sounded like an owl-type call, soft and gentle - almost caring in a strange kind of way, kind of knowing. I have never seen them so close before, never seen them so inquisitive. Generally they keep their distance, soaring close enough to see their piercing eyes and graceful beauty. On my three trips to the southern ocean I have never seen an albatross flap it’s wings, never once. If there’s one real luxury we have now which we did not have just days ago, it’s time. There’s a little more of it now than when we were racing along.

I think what hurts the most about this trip is that I felt that I never really got into it. That was just happening as our disaster ruled a very thick and final line beneath our challenge. I was just beginning to feel more comfortable in my role on board, beginning to see life existing in abundance outside the nav station, finding the time to have a laugh with the guys, to try to stop worrying about the navigation and spending time on deck every so often. I was beginning to understand personalities and feel more at ease with people’s characters and differences out here - particularly under the pressure we put ourselves through. I felt we were sailing KINGFISHER2 well, able to keep high averages and catching up with and overtaking Bruno Peyron’s record Record #sailingrecord . From a navigational point of view it had been a tough trip, never one day in the 26 we were out there did I feel that the conditions were easy enough to relax and not return to the charts or the satellite pictures to study them. Never once did those questions go away : should we sail 10 degrees deeper, should we sail with the spinnaker or the gennaker - always questions in the head whether on deck, trying to sleep or even sitting in the galley briefly to eat with the guys. It’s a different kind of pressure to sailing alone, and above all perhaps when in a crew, you have more time available to worry about it.

Though our Jules Verne is all but a cluster of vivid memories, we now have a new challenge, to sail our monster catamaran to Australia, which at 2000 miles from us is going to be no mean feat. That’s further than most people would cruise in several years... We are still at over deep south and conditions are still pretty cold. That kind of takes me back to the feeling of not really belonging in any time zone right now. Somehow, summer in Australia seems a long, long way away. Though life still revolves round our watch systems, and still revolves around getting KINGFISHER2 from A to B, the feeling is subdued. It’s both a blessing and a punishment to be sailing for another two weeks. Now for good or for bad we have that luxury of time to think about what has happened to us, and to realise what an incredible thing we were doing which ended so abruptly for us. Whether we fester in despair, or think positively to the future that has still to come through. Suddenly we are sailing at a fraction of the speed we were able to cover just hours ago, and on a boat with a motion which is painfully limping rather than speeding through the water.

My role becomes crystal clear now. The skipper’s role is one of motivation - whether at 30 knots or 3 knots. Whether winning or losing, whether hurting or rejoicing - on reflection, therefore, my challenge is far from over.

Come on guys, it may be a wee way off, but Australia here we come !"

KINGFISHER2 started her Jules Verne record attempt at 06:48:39 GMT on 30.1.03. On Sunday, 23.2.03 at 2222 GMT KINGFISHER2 dismasted after 24 days 15 hours and 34 minutes into her record attempt positioned at 50 50’S 72 08’E 100 miles east of the Kerguelen Islands in the Southern Ocean. At the time of dismasting, KINGFISHER2 was 20 hours ahead of the existing record set by Orange and had closed the gap on Olivier de Kersauson’s attempt to 53 hours behind.

Information Kingfisher Challenges