Yep we are still out here. Even the net controllers on the radio scheds sound incredulous when we call in, still underway, not yet at anchor. We've been doing cross stitch on our rhumb line for the last 2-3 days, sailing 90 miles each 24 hour day, but only making 30 miles towards out destination. Very dispiriting. The promised easterly has not kicked in and we have been tacking when possible the whole trip, close hauled into the SE wind, right on the nose, fighting the curennt, and the swell - which sometimes stops IM in her track. Weird eddies and currents around sea mounts and the small northern Tuvaluan islands also create cross seas. Sometimes it feel like a giant octopus has grabbed IM's hull and is twirling us around, back winding us.

And then there's the squalls. Gun shy after our Majuro passage experience, we reef down early, often to find they turn out to be reasonably gentle, alhtough still sucking all the wind, leaving us temporarily becalmed in their wake. Tuesday was a pretty ordinary day, dodging lines of squalls and rain all day, but the highest gust only got to 30kts and I even helmed through one squall, feeling fortifed by a few hours sleep and our morning porridge.

Because of all the tacking we have covered an extra 341 miles so far, almost 60% more than if we had been able to head directly to Funafuti, the main island of Tuvalu. It seems we are always sailing to windward, so really looking for a downwind passage soon! We are currently 165 NM northwest of Funafuti, and had a lovely, almost squall free sail last night under a nearly full moon, with a wind shift to the ESE.

IM v Wild continues. For several nights the Battle of the Boobies was reprised, (IM 3 - Boobies 0) - but most enchantingly we were greeted at breakfast twice by a pod of dolphins, perhaps 50 or more, surfing and somersaulting exuberantly alongside in the morning sun.

Days roll into each other out here, but one afternoon, slightly dozy in the heat, we were startled to hear a voice over the VHF calling "Sailing vessel on my port bow" - who us? A quick scan of the horizon, and sure enough there was a fishing trawler, the MV Jeannete stealing up on us from behind, on her way to ago Pago. The captain asked if we were ok, (nice of him, but we did wonder if he thought we were mad to be out here in such a slow tiny boat), and offered to change course for us if ned be. He was going so much faster than us there was no need,and we watched and waved enviously as they motored past, leaving a distinct smell of diesel in their wake. The red helicopter perched on her foredeck reminded me of the boobies attempts to land on our masthead - how the pilots land the helicopters on the small pitching decks of fishing trawlers is beyond me.

The next morning a Port Vila based Chinese flagged trawler aslo cruised past, but no radio contact this time, and no helicopter. Later that evening a large ship came up on the AIS, the Sein Queen. I thought Tone said "Insane Queen" when he called out it's name, but of course that's me!

So between sailing, navigating, cooking, eating, radio scheding, sleeping, reading and dodging squalls, the days go by. We heard on the HF radio that two yachts we know coming down from Majuro tore thier headsails in squalls similar to the one we copped in the same patch of water. They have been able to repair them and continue on, but that news made us even more determined to make sure we reef before each squall.

Last night, after another squall line had passed, we were contemplating if we were going to be out here forever and the Day 12 deleriums set in, as we fell about the cockpit laughing at our self-inflicted situation. As if the wind gods heard and took pity, minutes later a wind shift came through and we are now quietly optimistic we may be in Tuvalu (after the longest passage known to humankind) sometime over the weekend.

Over and out for now. the slightly barmy IM crew.