Kinsale? Yes we can!

The Triangle Race 2016 part 1 of 3. 

The various characters on the boat have been notably quiet of late.

Barbie particularly so. Barely a word from her. This is probably because she’s hungry and they’re all afraid.

We’re all going on a fekkin' diet

Losing weight seems to be the preoccupation of many people, for reasons peculiar only to themselves. Boogie Nights has been on a diet that would put an army of "fat feeders" out of a job. 

Between Jaynes obsession with only allowing small things onboard and one-for-one, we also had the issue of her only allowing things on board if they were to be used in a two week window.

the systematic emptying of cupboards and only refilling with essentials. 

She started by emptying the saloon cupboards.

Charts for East Coast? Get out

Pilot books for East Coast and the Med? You can get out as well you fat bloated bound pieces of paper.

DVDs, board game, book on tying knots? Way too heavy. Out!

Then the galley. Would all the glasses please step forward? Right, now get out.

Ok, not you small wine glass. Or your buddy there the champagne flute… you can stay.

But the rest of you? Fek off out of here. This is no place for heavy weight glassware.

Now then what’s going on in the throne room? PINK HAIRSPRAY? What the b-jeysus are you doing still in that cupboard? Get out!

Three hair brushes? Has anyone failed to notice Jayne had her long tresses chopped for the Princess Foundation over a year ago? She ain’t gonna be needing you again for a while. Get in the box. Ok, not you, little compact grooming device. She’s not a complete scruff bag.

Box after box of surplus STUFF left Boogie Nights, and it added up.

Gradually the waterline crept higher and the Ducato Maxi (known as the shed) hunkered down on its suspension, the fuel economy dropping from a marvellous 55mpg to a less marvellous 45mpg and stopping requires forward planning, similar to that of a fully laden cargo ship.

Nearly 200kilos were shed from the belly of Boogie Nights. All the empty cupboards on the starboard side were filled with heavy stuff from cupboards on the port side in an attempt to re-ballast a perpetually annoying list to port. 

If the boat had a voice, he might complain, like Marvin the android with the pain in all the diodes down his left side [*3]

A few luxuries remained though, the cocktail shaker along with decent sized cabinet of liquid refreshments. Medicinal.

A baking tin and basics for making a cake. Medicinal.

A second edition of Mill on the floss as well as an 1889 edition of the Pears Cyclopedia, because you never know when you’re going to need the exchange rate of the Rupee or Italian Lira as of the late 19^th century when you’re racing offshore in the Irish sea.
And of course, a collective sigh of relief, the mascots all remained. Wonky knitted Donkey, Scary feet Sulley, Bendy Wendy the barometer legs, Talking Yoda, Silly sausage, Mr Oizo, wiggly Lil’ and me, the new girl, Grace O’Mally, Irelands fiercest, most notorious Pirate. EVER [*2] I'll be telling this story because I'm not cable tied to the front like a certain other character round here. Terribly quiet isn't she... 

Final checks: have we got enough fuel for a full day motoring? Yes, there’s 50 litres in the 140 litre tank, plus the emergency jerry, that should be plenty. No point carrying an extra 90kilos of fuel for no reason ay? [*1]

Jayne relabelled the crew bins (little stash bins for small personal things) under Bond Pseudonyms. Her chosen Bond Girl name was “Inna Flapp” Professor of perpetual faffing. (aye that's about right)

The Triangle Race fleet assembled gradually over the space of a week.

Boogie Nights was delivered in glorious sunshine to Torquay with the help of a fellow skipper who’s identity must remain anonymous, but we will call him Dr GingerFinch for the sake of keeping a Bond theme.

Ice creams were eaten, new sacrificial sunglasses worn and new friendships forged as fellow crews started to mingle.
GingerFinch made a hasty retreat back to his Bond lair. Sue arrived with a truck load of food and supplies and chose her Bond Girl name as “Clara Onnatopp”

Torquay - Fleet assembled. 

It's the seaside, it's the law. 

Going Swimmingly

The speed log on Boogie Nights hasn’t worked for some time and a strand of weed was blocking it, so a quick swim with a scrubber was needed to get rid of it.

Jayne has a particular phobia of putting her head underwater so bravo for her managing that. Needs must.

 Good lass. Not a bad scrubber. 

Meteorologica Shminky Pinky Bang Bang

The weather forecasts started flooding in and there was a collective rustle amongst the fleet.

Perhaps more a bristle than a rustle.

Good friends on a Maxi 1100, Amylou moored alongside Boogie Nights uttered the words “boat breaking conditions”

Sue busied herself going through passage plans again. Jayne was doing a thorough shackle and fittings check, adjusting, tightening and double checking.

A westerly wind of 25-30 knots was predicted and a rough to very rough sea state. 

This isn’t really much of a problem, except this is the Irish Sea we are crossing and we wanted to go West.

The thing with yachts is that, however marvellous they are at harnessing the power of nature, they can’t actually sail directly into the wind and this meant we would have to “beat” upwind, also known in Boogie Nights terms as :doing the the ziggy zaggy or a bit of a jiggy jaggy.

"Either way, whether we jagged or zagged, I tried to reassure Jayne it'll be grand. It always is. More or less. Except when it isn't."

This first leg would certainly separate the willows from the bough, the wheat from the chaff, the bugle from the caller, ladies from the men, the, no wait... can we all just arrive safely please?

Leg 1

Race start was typically entertaining in the sense that Sue and Jayne have only ever started one race together before. So while they discussed which line to pull, the race got underway:

"ease the main sheet, no the main sheet, no the main sheet, no that's the second halyard, no not the vang, no that's the third reef, the main sheet, the blue one, that one..."
"right, ok"
"can we gybe? are we ready to gybe? We need to gybe"
"yes, I'll try..."
"can we gybe a bit faster, no faster than that, ok, that was a bit faster than I meant... but that's ok the boom brake was on"
"shall we get the jib out?"
"yeah suppose we should really since the race started a minute ago..."

But never mind, there’s 250 miles to go yet to Kinsale.

Sue adjust a jammed reef line so we can fully hoist the main sail after starting the race with one reef in. 

A familiar sight for the remainder of the triangle race as Sue comes up from making her hourly plot on the chart. It's a ritual. It's her thing. 

Jayne -  never knowingly fashionable or stylish. Ever. 

The first day and night flew by and there was still the odd boat visible on the AIS radar screen but as the second day wore on, those signals started to fade and the weather switched on.

And it really switched on. It was like old times. 

Determined to keep their stomachs full of excellent food pre-prepared by Sue and avoid any downtime with mal-de-mer they dropped Kwells like ravers on acid, minus the UV facepaint or excess sweating.

The beats were ON though, sometimes 80’s disco, sometimes hardcore dance music, sometimes classical, rock music, reggae or world music, but always ON.

The rusty, orange stained pods pumped music out 24/7 and the waves built.

Both women took turns at helm, 2 on, 2 off. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

The near full moon was beautiful and equally revealing of the savage Irish Sea. It illuminated the breaking tops of waves in an eerie bluish colour.

In the wake, sparkled phosphorescing particles or critters, which was both mesmerising and hypnotic to watch.

The wind turbine hummed, howled and whistled according to the wind intensity but never stopped spinning.

Dolphins had come to visit during daylight hours, torpedoing out of the building seas towards us, swimming around the boat before heading  off again. 

2 on 2 off

Sue slept soundly below like a sausage roll in her duvet after another night time watch changeover.

Jayne sat at the helm, eyes still adjusting to the night-scape. Still clipped on with two tethers after the changeover-shuffle, she tweaked the autopilot located by her left knee and settled down into the “cosy” port aft corner, leaning against a fender tied to the back rail.

Cosy being relative when you are in the firing line of most waves.

Wearing the full monty Gill Ocean jacket, the collar is so high that the only thing visible when the hood is drawn is a tiny slit to see through. Rather like looking out of a letterbox.

foul weather gear : sponsored by Royal Mail

Boogie Nights launched off of another wave. Like a rapid descent in a lift, the stomach takes a moment to catch up. We landed with a shudder in the trough then started climbing another foamy peak. A cross wave hit us, SLAM - spray, the boat lurched off sideways as we headed swiftly down the other side of the peak, another wave threatens but passes by, breaking just behind us with a hiss.

In the troughs, the only things visible are the slab sides of water around us, in the brief moments as we crest the peaks there’s a feeling of observing the world from a height, it’s a massive aggressive watery desert as far as the eye can see in every direction. The moonlight illuminates a horizon that curves away and is quickly blotted from view by the next wall of water.

And then, it is inevitable.

Looking across in an attempt to read the next series of waves, a long horizontal foamy tube of blue resting on a black wall of water has your name on it.

In the time it took Jayne to utter “oh fu..” the wall of water, easily the height of the boom,  slammed into the side of the boat and broke across the cockpit. It was like being hit by a baby elephant. Lifted up from her corner by the volume of water whooshing across, Jayne’s tether pulled taught for a moment as she buried her head into her elbow trying to avoid too much water getting into the letterbox opening. Still holding the wheel she landed with a bounce, shaking the water from her hood and wiping her eyes in an attempt to focus again.

"Patti Smith – Because the Night blared out of the speakers. This was power ballad weather alright."

Jayne sang along, muffled inside her massive collar "Because the night belongs to nutters, because the night belongs to us..." 

the sea, painted by Hokusai

We were 15 minutes into a watch of 120. This was going to be gnarly.  

And the beat goes on. As always at some point, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy finds its way through the random playlist whenever challenging weather presents itself. It's like being in the book "Good Omens" where the Demon, no matter the tape cassette he puts in the stereo, always ends up with Queen and Bohemian Rhapsody playing. 

At the next watch changeover and two episodes into Hitchhikers, Sue emerged blinking from the companionway, suited and booted ready to sit in the firing line, cheerily she wished Jayne a good morning (it was a little past 3am). Her ability to be cheerful is something that should be bottled.

Jayne explained the previous watch excitement and suggested she sleep in the cockpit as the weather was showing no signs of improvement  and it would be much easier and quicker to react or help out if that final reef was needed.

As both women discussed their fatigue induced hallucinations, Sue had spotted a stranger in the heads and Jayne heard a male voice several times make various vocal noises that sounded like a "hmmm" or "aaahh" which she attributed to the boat talking to her [*3], just then, a metallic clatter was heard,  both women looked around in vain to see what it was. Jayne looked up at the rig and Sue looked down below.

BANG - massive wave. The boat shuddered.

A second clatter was heard, slightly less metallic and again no sign of what it was.

As the night passed into day and the two skippers continued their shifts, Jayne stood in the cockpit to look over the deck, scanning the fittings to see if anything had gone awry in the night. The angry waves hitting the boat from all directions were summarily dismissed by Boogie Nights as it powered on. Relatively little water found it’s way into the bilge, just a few basins full.

Except. Ah. Wait.

The lashed boat hook? Gone. Metallic clatter? Yes. Check.

The contoured deck panel that covers the lines from mast? Starboard side, Gone. Slightly less metallic clatter? Yes. Check.

Fek a doodle dandy!

That diet is getting ridiculous now. That was weight we didn’t mind staying ON the boat.

The non slip mat on the deck was also peeling up on every leading edge. 

spot the missing panel. That'll be £650 to replace then. Shit. 

With the big weather came small discussions and a compromise about routing.

route A or route B? A was faster but required slightly more navigational skill, route B, easier to navigate but would result in a tougher point of sail later by putting too much north into the route.
It was debatable over which route would be the smoother passage. 

Jayne had opted for the popular route north of the Scillies and south of the traffic separation zone (A).

It’s not buoyed but it’s plenty wide enough gap to sail through.

Sue wasn’t sure she was happy in the night sailing through it in the weather conditions.

With no other boats around us on the AIS to use as a judgement tool, and wanting to remain a strong team together, they re-routed to the east side of the traffic separation zone, up to a buoyed channel heading north (B). Knowing this would take them to a difficult place to sail on to Kinsale from with the strong westerly winds, it was decided to prioritise team work before speed.

The route would add another day to the journey. This was no longer a race but a matter of team survival and developing trust together.

time to start drying stuff, Sue put the lid to the wine cave outside to dry... which revealed a nice little stash of booze on the starboard side.

Surplus battery power thanks to loads of wind? Switch the fridge on and get that Prosecco chilled!

As Tuesday came and went and Wednesday dawned, the two were anxious not to miss the cut off arrival time on Thursday Lunch time.

But the good food kept coming, the calmer conditions meant that the boat tidying could commence and the pair managed to catch up on some sleep.

knackered sailor

The first signal Jayne found on her phone was one from fellow competitor sharing a screen shot of the AIS signal of Boogie Nights pointing towards Kinsale, followed by the same from Jaynes Ma.

The extra day delay meant the crews who had already made it to Ireland were worried about those still not accounted for.

While those awaiting our arrival on Wednesday evening could see this:

AIS signal as we approached Ireland

We were looking at this:

beautiful evening approaches to Kinsale

Only 20 boats out of 29 made it to Ireland. Whilst Boogie Nights wasn’t the last to arrive they were the only one out of contact since the early hours of Monday when the weather turned nasty.

There was still a little adventure to go even as we crossed the line, Jayne fired up the engine for the first time since Torquay 3.5 days before, it ran for just 2 minutes then cut out. [*1 - air lock. 50 litres is not enough it seems in a 140 litre tank. Next time there's big weather, make sure the tank is full]

So we sailed at 7 knots up the river with two reefs tucked in and the bombproof jib roughly set. Jayne fired off some help messages to the Race Organiser David Rayment who quickly came to our assistance. 

A rib came out of the darkness to meet and guide us into a temporary spot alongside two other boats in Kinsale Marina. 

The reception the Boogie Nights team received in Kinsale was absolutely top drawer. 

Drinks into the night in great company and nobody minded that the two unwashed ladies turned up after just a brief wet wipe down. [see Jaynes other blog about sailors and their wet wipes]

With such a short stopover there was little time for anything other than a quick trip to a chandlery to replace a lost winch handle, a rapid deep clean of all wet cupboards, receive a booby-prize for the most miles covered between Torquay and Kinsale (455 as it happens) and then hit the town for some traditional pub time. 

Sue had already crashed out, needing to recharge before the start of the next leg, but Jayne took one for the team and enjoyed some fabulous music in equally fabulous company (Katisha, Spruce Goose and Resolute)

live Irish music and an impromptu evening out in the town. 

Did I mention Barbie was still quiet?

She did a decent job up there on the bow granting us safe passage,  but arrived looking a little worse for wear. She's still not talking to us. At least she has all limbs still attached and managed to keep her shoes.   

How undignified. 

to be continued...

Ever Decreasing Circles

JT: Lovely weekend for it  

Pogo lady: yes, lovely weekend.  

JT: are you going anywhere nice? 

Pogo Lady: I think we'll head over to the pub in Cowes, and you? 

JT: Oh we're going to head out of here, turn left then right a bit and just keep going until we get bored and come back again. See you at the bar on Sunday?

It's that time of year already when we have to knuckle down and do a few things to prepare for the first race of the year, actually my only planned race of the year (there will be more, I just don't plan far ahead normally)

Sue popped round to say hello and since the weather looked quite nice, we thought it a good time to nip out to get our qualifying passage done for the Yachting Monthly Triangle race. It's not particularly arduous at only 125 miles, but finding the time where we were both available and the weather was ok is the hard part.

Before we set off Sue made a rough passage plan and then suggested we use the log to...

no wait, Sue, the thing is, erm, my log, well, I haven't got one. Well, I have, but it's at Raymarine still. I forgot to get it back from them. Yeah I know, I took it there last October...

so we had to tot up the miles the modern old fashioned way using GPS lat and long, join the dots and measure it on a paper chart.

Sue, completely unfazed by my apparent lack of essential equipment didn't so much as bat an eye and just started a comprehensive hourly note taking and log book routine. 

And for once I was chef rather than heater-upper. Though, I'm no Steven Seagal...

bye bye Solent, we are finally out of it's clutches with a bit of help from the iron sail. 

must remember to replace that top batten...

sunrise amidst the shipping

chasing the wind meant we generally had a decent speed most of the time. But it did mean we went around in circles. 

the plant (on the left of shot in a cut off vittel bottle) I have fondly called Seymour is just a plant based creature that refuses to die. It came as part of a bunch of flowers a year ago and has continued to grow and sprout new growth in just a water container without soil. When faced with something so resilient, I can't help but admire it despite it's ungainly appearance. It's a fighter. I love a fighter. 

The dog assumes his primary position. On a bunk, near a cushion. His night shift involved cuddles for nearly 2 hours on, 2 hours off.  

if you look carefully, you'll see our meandering course. We had a lovely time with the shipping in the night. 

So, that's us done for the moment. we'll be back to talk proper nonsense in the near future. 

erm, wait a moment... A word from the figure head

whoa whoa whoa, not so fast there, I think you'll find I'm the spokesperson around here when there's the need for a third voice.

"I don't know what's going on here, but at no point above do I see any mention of being honked at by that massive ship leaving the Solent because dipstick one and dipstick two failed to make their intentions clear to the myopic watch of the bridge, like pointing me at the fort wasn't clear enough, or Sue having a minor moment of "ee bygum there's a lotta ships in the dark" and I've seen no mention of the chaos of re-entry to Portsmouth Harbour (3 ferries coming in, 1 ferry going out, two tugs escorting a ship in, a floating dredging raft blocking half the entrance and Jayne almost breaking a sweat)

No mention of Sue being passive aggressive to the little tupperware that completely pretended Boogie Nights wasn't there and no mention of the scrappy mooring offered by Jaynes cack-handed berthing skills.

but hey, I won't mention it if you don't ay ladies? You don't mind me calling you both dipsticks do you?  

Do you?  

Hey, where's my arrival beer?"

Gimballed Guinness Cake

Yachting Monthly Triangle Race: Leg 2 - Kinsale to Treguier

Jayne has issues with velcro

Hi there, Beach Barbie, figure head of Boogie Nights, reporting in from Treguier.

The two skippers are off enjoying themselves ashore so it falls to me again to bring you the 2nd leg report.

So before I get ahead of myself, the intrepid duo had a lovely little stop over in Kinsale.

On arrival, still salty faced and weary from our long passage they abandoned me with nary a thanks for my safe guidance and both hopped aboard a Sweden 42, where arrival drinks were drunk alongside fellow competitors into the night, the last few boats arrived, the sky started to turn from black to blue again and then they came home to their bunks.  The last dog watch was complete for a few days.

Returning the next morning, squeaky clean and fragrant from Kinsale yacht clubs facilities the two skippers reminded me why it’s good to be a non-sweating plastic doll.

I had suspected for a day or so that they had snagged the rotting carcase of some sort of marine mammal, turns out, you can get quite smelly, quite quickly, on a hot sailing passage. Who knew? Not I. I was quite worried.

During the stop over two jobs needed tackling, the VHF radio signal, or lack of, and the errant sail batten that was coiled up around Jaynes bunk, she slept with it for one night coiled like a spring over her head. 

It wouldn’t take long before it “would have someones eye out” she said, 

it wouldn’t be me of course, mine are painted on.

Hazel used the Electric power winch to propel Jayne toward the top of the big stick to check the aerial connection and whilst there took a good look around.

She could see the pub from there. 

A fellow competitor jumped onboard Boogie Nights with his multimeter, they worked out it was the plug end at the bottom of the mast that needed re-soldering.

Gas soldering iron on the job (the gift that keeps on giving thanks to Jaynes Dad) and Boogie Nights was transmitting Radio 4 levels of posh voice effects once again. Jayne has a fabulously posh radio voice that completely belies her northern potty-mouthed roughness.

Next task was the batten. The long flat fibreglass batten (that helps to give the main sail its beautiful wing shape) that had popped out of its sleeve at the start of leg 1.

As I’m perpetually facing forward, I’ve never actually seen the so called “main sail”

I have seen its shadow on the water though during certain times of the day and I’d say it looks more like a giant sun dial. I can tell the time by its shadow position on the water. I'm like the Crocodile Dundee of figure heads. #beargryllsbarbie

What was needed was a stitch, or three, in the end of the batten pocket. Hazel was very pragmatic about it. But Jayne, easily upset at the thought of having to put holes in her brand new main sail had to face facts that this was the only thing that was going to stop Boogie Nights spearing any closely following yachts with its lethal high powered sail javelin. And of course ideally it should be in the sail where it helps it to hold its shape and makes us go faster.

Yoda reports to me that he felt a shift in the force around the same time Jayne put the first stitch in. We’re a little worried about her. The dark force is strong with that one. Don't let the pink fool you.

 

Jayne has a sudden encounter with velcro

 And so to the leg 2, Kinsale to Treguier race start, I was soooo excited. I was like, totally yay about the fact we have some wind forecast. It meant I wouldn’t have to put up with their constant jabbering behind me. They might have to concentrate for a little while.

Jockeying around for the race start count down Jayne whinged that Hazel was tacking a lot and it was making her tired before they had even started.

For those non sailors reading this, this means Hazel gets to play with the big round thing that makes the boat turn left and right and Jayne has to pull lots of ropes and turn lots of clicky winch handle things. Every time Hazel turns Boogie Nights this way or that, Jayne has to do a lot of rope pulling and tensioning and re-tensioning then coiling to avoid them turning into a birds nest and then she has to do it all over again. Yoda sees all from his aft facing view, strapped to the mast support.

Jayne swore that she’d get Hazel back by swapping roles next time, and Jayne would tack and gybe twice as much as needed.

When I heard my two skippers discussing “really going for it” I wasn’t sure what to expect. 

heading out from Kinsale to race start

 

Mid fleet in the procession out to the starting mark

Juliette, a J105, heading out for the race start

Hazel, bang on the money for the start

Big Doris, A Dehler 39 is miffed that we got the jump on him.

Goodbye beautiful lush green Ireland. Thankyou Niall Power and his son for making it down to Kinsale to see us off. It was very much appreciated.

Free Spirit, a Sweden 42, the source of several welcome drinks in Kinsale. Two wonderfully hospitable Northern Chaps, Rob and Mike.

Hazel is tiny but mighty. This is Yodas view of all proceedings.

Oh. My. Gosh.

They were off the line like a greased racing snake. If there was an energy drink called “well oiled stunt monkey” it would be sponsoring this boat at that time.

I couldn’t see anyone ahead of us at all. And then we were leaning. A lot. And the waves came. Kind of long rolling ones that had gotten all big from being blown all the way across the north Atlantic toward Ireland

I was like, “whoa. I’m getting it right in the face here guys!”

And they were like, whatever.

And I was like, “Hey would you mind, it was fun at first, but c’mon, I can’t breath now. I’m spending more time under the water than over it.”

And they just didn’t care. I could cry if I had tear ducts. 

It did not stop.  For Hours. And Hours.

And then I was like “our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…. “

I honestly thought I was going to lose an arm or something. And my hair, I can’t even imagine what my hair must look like.  

The evil, Barbie bashing pair had agreed on taking one hour turns on helm, while the other snoozed nearby. They hand steered through the first night and into the next day.
Food this time took on a very minimalist approach as I heard the Stowaways emergency gourmet food being served. Jayne managed to balance a pan on the hob long enough to warm up a Coq au van and a Venison Caserole. Hazel once again congratulated Jayne on her ability to warm something up.

Deydreamer, which is another Dehler 36 like Boogie Nights was hot on our tail for a day before eventually passing us. There was very little either Hazel or Jayne could do about it, but it did make them more determined.
Hazel had very cunningly provisioned with pork chops in honey and mustard and a fabulous potato gratin from Kinsale. Once this rocket fuel had been expertly warmed up in the oven by Jayne and both had congratulated each other on ones ability to provision well and the others ability to stand up down below on ridiculous angles of heal and warm something up, I felt the boat start to accelerate. When Jayne asked Hazel if she could put music on, we seemed to go even faster and straighter.

Hazels bowl is always spotlessly clean when she's finished

Whilst Jayne was on a roll down below, she also decided to bake a cake. 

The chocolate and Guiness cake came out well, but has a slight gimballed effect to one side.

During the second evening Jayne was in her element, tweaking and re-tweaking the sails and lines, willing the boat along faster, eeking every last nth degree out of Boogie Nights as ordered by Hazel 

“make us go faster, we HAVE to catch them”

Jayne sat for hour after hour transfixed by the speed readout and GPS position. 
Watching the ais reported boat speeds of those ahead, 5.5kts, we maintained 6.5kts in an attempt to reach them before the finish line some 80 nautical miles away.

Hazel came up for a watch change and suggested Jayne look behind for a moment.

And then the night sky arrived bringing the milky way with it. Phosphorescence glittered out of the bow wave and trailed like little sparkles as Boogie Nights cut through the water.

Out of the darkness to our port side, a strange red object started to appear, sailing up over the horizon was a scarlet crescent, resembling the devils spinnaker bearing down on us. 

The moon rose and lit the way to France as Brittany lights started to appear to the south.

After hauling back most of the difference on the other Dehler, they were in sight of the finish line but it was too late to change any racing results. Another 6^th place for Boogie Nights. 
Considering that Boogie Nights is the only boat in the entire fleet where someone actually lives on board, this is no mean feat to even be vaguely competitive. Boogie  Nights is also the only boat in the fleet with a figure head. I was looking forward to meeting some of my cloned sisters, likewise cable tied to other boats, but it seems I am alone. This makes me sad. It's a dying art this figure head business.

Using my dolphinase skills, I summoned a special guide to show the Boogie Nights team the way in through the rocks.

Davide, or Dave, the Dolphin shows us the way in.

That’s all for now folks, one more leg to go, but before then, it’s time for a drink in the bar for my skippers. While they’re gone, I’m cleaning out the cake pan. 

Do I have something in my teeth?
Someone's got to clean the bowl right?

xxx Beach Barbie signing out