Team Torbellino

After a swift couple of pints, TT left the Hamble aboard its chartered J109, Vertigo, at 8:30pm on Thursday night. Some initial cockiness about the spinnaker wore off quickly as the 20-25 knot northerly made its presence felt. A comfortable and fast fetch under white sails seemed the better part of valour. Nipping smartly past Anvil Point, Portland Bill, Start Point and Eddystone, we rounded Lands End at midnight on Friday under beautifully clear skies. The wind refused to behave as forecast, staying in the north, so we set off for Ireland on starboard, thumping into a short sea.

With a tight crew, solid boat, good food and plentiful tea we very quickly made the transition to sea living. The hours can pass slowly, particularly when it’s nearly your turn for a sleep, but the days fly by.

Saturday saw us working steadily northwards through the Celtic deeps, accompanied almost continuously by large pods of dolphin and flocks of diving gannets. We were joined at around lunchtime by an exhausted and presumably second-rate homing pigeon, Myfanwy. Myfanwy ate, drank, shat all over the cockpit and then settled down to sleep on the top step of the companionway. Perhaps she thought we were headed in the right direction.

The wind finally dropped as we approached St David’s Head, and we motored slowly through St George’s Channel against a four knot tide. Tim, taking his skipperly duties seriously, spent a good deal of time at the chart table on Saturday night. He appeared on deck occasionally, waving his hand vaguely into the black night, muttering darkly about vicious rocks and uncharted depths. Although this didn’t fill the crew with much confidence, we rounded safely and were rewarded with a gentle southerly breeze, a fair tide and a rapid reach into Cardigan Bay.

Calculating that the tide wouldn’t let us into any port until Sunday evening, we paused for some gybing practice. We discovered that the boat doesn’t sail well with the spinnaker wrapped around the keel, so packed what was left of the sail into its bag and settled down to wait for the water to get deep enough in Aberystwyth. Having seen off several more pigeons who attempted to land on the boat and, in one case, on Phil’s head, Myfanwy finally decided to leave us and pluckily set off towards Aberdovey.

We passed gingerly through the rocky channel into Aberystwyth at 6:30pm on Sunday. Wage slaves Jim and Tim legged it for a train immediately, leaving three of us to tidy the boat, shower, eat, get drunk and talk bollocks. All of which we did.

In a race like the Three Peaks, getting to the start line is a major achievement. We’re nearly there.

Simon