Lionheart 1

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AT last, I'm away. The rush to get the boat ready in time was unbelievable. But not as unbelievable as the moment I finally drifted away from the jetty at Sandringham Yacht Club on Sunday. Then it hit me - the scope of what was lying ahead. I've been planning this trip since I was 13, but it was a shock to realise I was finally under way. I had only two hours' sleep on Saturday night, we were so busy packing supplies and testing equipment. My dad didn't get any sleep at all. I must admit it was a bit strange to be the focus of so much attention. To have 300 people come down to farewell me was amazing.

The emotion of leaving my family was something else altogether, with mum shedding some tears when it was time to get away. My departure produced a funny moment which I believe confused some people. As I was getting under way, a friend, Ben Richardson, jumped aboard and sailed from the yacht club with me.

Some people thought I had already broken the rules of sailing solo. In fact, I didn't start my record attempt until the Port Phillip heads. I was only giving Ben a lift to meet some mates who were on a boat in the bay.

It's a pity the weather wasn't a bit better when I started, but I suppose it won't be anything compared with some of the stuff ahead. I'm on my way around Tasmania, then it's straight east, below New Zealand.

I hope to hit the half-way point at the Azores Islands in the North Atlantic Ocean about April 20.

This is the antipodal point of my journey. That is, the exact opposite point to Melbourne on the globe. If all goes well, I'll be home on my 18th birthday on August 26, 1999.

08.12.98

The wind has only just picked up in the past two days. At my current rate I should round the bottom of NZ in a little over a week. I finished the last of my fresh eggs for breakfast this morning, scrambled with Tabasco sauce. (I had been dreaming about it all night). It's getting pretty cold down here. I'm on the same latitude as the bottom of NZ. I have been reading through my Bob Marley music book and learnt No Woman No Cry. Unfortunately, my vocal capabilities tend to spoil the tune, even after a whole day's practice. Lucky for everyone's benefit I'm on my own. It is amazing what a transformation the sun can do.

On an overcast day with the waves crashing over the boat, the sea looks a dull threatening mass but when the sun manages to squeeze through, the water turns to the most beautiful blue that you can imagine and lifts your spirits dramatically. Receiving e-mails each day is what I look forward to the most. It's great to hear of the amusing episodes from friends and family. Thanks to the use of satellites I have three different ways of communicating and at any time of the day that I wish. I have e-mail, a satellite phone and two HF radios. I have also put up my Christmas decorations and starting to count the sleeps. It is these types of things that keep me amused. May Santa bring what everyone wants.

Jesse

PS: my leg is doing very well

22.12.98

CHRISTMAS was not such a great deal. I woke to an albatross that squawked "Merry Christmas", then went below to open my presents. Thanks mum for the Tim Tams and Twisties, but what I want to know is how did Santa land on my yacht?

Three seals did a couple of jumps at the back of the boat and the sunny day was something to be grateful for. Last week I had a huge fright when riding out a blow. I was in my bunk dreaming when I heard a loud tapping on the porthole. I looked up and, to my astonishment, I saw the bottom of a shroud (wires that hold up the mast) knocking against the cabin top. In a panic I got my wet weather gear on and harness attached and ventured out to the front of the boat, while ideas of fixing it were going around in my head.

It was not a major problem but merely a quick release lever on the baby forestay which had been flicked undone. For the first Christmas in my life I think I really understood and appreciated what this time of year was all about. I had presents - my usual reason for enjoying Christmas - but this year it wasn't the same. I was on my own. I would have given all my gifts away to have lunch with relatives and to hear Pop read out of the Bible. To chat to my cousins, who I hardly get a chance to speak to all year, and hear about what everyone has been up to. Good company is the most valuable gift . . . enjoy it.

29.12.98

ABOUT a week ago I rounded the South West Cape of New Zealand where I had the first view of land in a while. I met with a crayfishing boat seven miles offshore where I threw off three bags of rubbish and some film, but didn't get off the boat. It was quite exciting speaking to the fishermen with their NZ accents, but when it came time for them to leave I felt a bit down. There wasn't much wind so I went down below and started to make dinner as I made up my mind to focus on the next part of the trip.

Conditions remain quite calm and I have seen a few seals playing around behind the boat.

It is amazing how finely tuned your senses get after only a month away from land. I was sitting in the cockpit enjoying the sun the other day when I got a whiff of a strange smell. I stood up and there floating along about eight metres from the boat was a log of a tree. Luckily we didn't hit it because it would have made some considerable damage, but I was stoked that I could smell it. On New Year's Eve I was trying to call my mates, but they were out having a good time so I celebrated by making myself pancakes.

I counted down and at exactly midnight I let out a whoo hoo and took a swig of water and a bite of a pancake. I sat there chewing as everything was so quiet except for the groaning of the boat.

I sat and thought about how much had happened in the last year, and it amazed me what things had had been done and how I had changed. It got me excited to think how much is possible to achieve and what this next year would bring, and so I went to bed dreaming of the future. That is how my new year started.

05.01.99

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