Whenever we start to think about an offshore passage we try to ‘book’ the weather. The forecast we try to book is always the same. We simply ask for 15 knots of wind, flat seas, cloudless skies, moon lit nights, windshifts when we need them and for entertainment we ask for whales being circled by dolphins who are riding on the back of turtles that are all chasing schools of Mahi, Wahoo and Tuna. This is exactly what we got apart from one pretty serious notable wet and stormy exception (and of course the aquatic circus).

The call of the Dolphins and Whales were strong and ‘Serenity’, who was also bound for the Azores, got a head start. Serenity were just a dot on the horizon by the time we sorted ourselves out but that just meant that the race was on and we’d have competition to drive Ruffian northwards towards an imaginary waypoint near Bermuda.

With Ruffian bucking about below us blasting along at breakneck speeds we pushed hard and slowly got some miles on ‘Serenity’. All this pushing hard however came at a cost and it was a culinary one. Day after day we tucked the aptly named ‘Ruffian Slop and Starch’, eaten out of plastic bowls with plastic cutlery and then hastily washed up in salt water leaving just enough residue to add flavour to the meal the following day.

There was also a cost to our slumber allocation and although Rachael the autopilot was taking all the strain we still worked (well sat) tirelessly on deck making sure all was tickety boo. To combat the sleep deficiency Iain took a rather innovative approach. Armed with nothing more than a chin full of hair, a pair of tweezers and a penchant for plucking, sleep was kept at bay and when it did approach there was always the nose hair to attack…

Nearing Bermuda things couldn’t have been looking any better and we were elated to hear our weather router, Chris Parker, describe the weather in the coming days as ‘A pretty remarkable weather scenario’. Just as we were hitting the correct northing to head to the Azores, the wind veered and we simply turned right and followed it for 100’s and 100’s of easy dry mile breaking days towards the east and our destination that was a long way over the horizon.

Now we were heading east proper cooking could commence and so to relieve the monotony of the ‘Ruffian Slop and Starch’ diet we cooked up a curry. As the lentils swelled and the chickpeas grew the curry turned into a coagulated brown mass of enormous proportions. This brown mass looked exactly the same both entering and exiting the human body and this property was then exacerbated when Fiona decided the curry (which we’d now named Gary it was so large) needed some texture and so she added some indigestible sweetcorn!

Rachel was really taking all this sailing in her stride and with the perfect conditions she steered Ruffian like a thing possessed at unheard of speeds. Hour after hour we checked our daily runs and day after day she nailed over 150 miles. With Rachel doing such a fine job we were very redundant as helmsmen but super happy that after 25k miles we’ve finally bagged the 150 mile record we’ve been seeking.

All this lovely weather couldn’t continue and it was time for the notable exception. We listened with horror to the SSB as we heard a forecast of a cold front which would be packing 50knot winds, vicious thunderstorms and rain of proportions last seen by Noah as he launched his Ark. There was no escaping it, no way out, we just had to batten down the hatches and Fiona, in her words, would just have to ‘Man the F**k Up’.

Right on cue the sky turned black and the winds blew splume off the tops of waves leaving streaks of white. The heavens opened leaving us soaked through and shivering in the cold (it was a cold front afterall) and then there was the lightening. We watched the majestic streaks of electricity flash between clouds and then start to head towards the sea. Time and time again we saw strikes just meters from Ruffian where the sky turned green, the water turned blue and fizzed with the intense heat.

Hour after hour we hand steered, took turns to sleep on the floor fully kitted up and hoped Ruffian would make it through the night without being cooked by the lightening. As the cold front finally passed stars slowly emerged from the gloom and the wall of black cloud moved away from us. We could now hope that for the 1000 miles in front of us we would once again get the weather we booked and the whales being circled by dolphins who are riding on the back of turtles that are all chasing schools of Mahi, Wahoo and Tuna would make their presence known.

Looking perfect. Lets go.


Ahhh. T-shirt sailing at night.


Wow. It just doesn’t get more lovely than this.


Ampie whorls his magic, hour in, hour out.


Paper based entertainment.


Ruffian has especially strong lee cloths (Iain hopes!).


Selfie, selfie, selfie.


Iain still has to read using his finger to guide him along.


It’s the half boat half girl creature.


Hmmm. Rusty ship, sea anchor, no captain. All a bit dodgy.


Fast, fast, fast.


Sometimes you have to move that rope. Apparently.


Why is there a bald patch on your chin Iain?


The view from the front and not a cloud in sight.


Fiona in her ‘pit’.


Iain is happy. Offshore he gets to open sweets.


That’ll be the first 1000 miles done then.


The things you see when you don’t have an exploding harpoon and a whaling ship.


The weather had to break at some point.


And it got very very broken.


And continued to be broken.


But there were day after day of amazing sunsets.