WHILE most people were watching or listening to the grand final on Saturday, I was lying a hull waiting for a front with gusts to 45 knots to pass me. I sure know where I would have rather been! I remembered back to last year's final. It was a beautiful sunny day and one mate had a BBQ so the rest of us piled over there.

It was a great day. I remember us all standing on the balcony trying to get a glimpse of the jets flying overhead and then being told off by a neighbor for repeatedly playing Hunter and Collectors' Holy Grail too loud. I just have to remind myself that it's only another few weeks and I'll be seeing them all again.

The latest news on board Lionheart is that the electric bilge pump has stopped working so I have to spend 5-10 minutes each morning and night manually pumping the water out. I also made contact with Sydney radio for the first time since I lost contact while approaching Cape Horn. It's great to hear an Australian voice over the radio and it's one more little milestone that I can cross off my list. I'm fast approaching the end of this well known rough patch, so hopefully I'll be into some of the warmer and calmer weather that I hear Melbourne has been having. There's still another front expected which shouldn't be too bad as long as I can keep the boat moving towards home. This past week I've averaged over 100 miles a day and should be 23 days away by the time this goes to print. I'm even down to crossing off the days, which I have numbered at the bottom of the chart. I got a question this week but I've forgotten who it was from. However, I remember how it went. This person wanted to know when exactly I thought to myself "I can really do this now". To tell the truth, it wasn't like I woke up one morning and all of a sudden I was full of confidence. It has slowly dawned on me the whole trip (and continues to do so). There have been moments, like when rounding Cape Horn, when I had a little extra something which filled me with confidence but generally it has been quite gradual. For example, one of my main worries was that I was putting too much strain on the rig and that, in a time of intense pressure, a stay would go and I'd lose the mast overboard. However, since the knockdowns off the Cape of Good Hope and the continual fronts that I've just experienced, I have much more faith in the strength of the rig and I expect that by time I reach the finish line I'll have even more. I was told by someone that the more time you spend sailing solo, the more you enjoy it. I would have to agree. With time comes more faith in your equipment and ability and therefore less worry and more enjoyment. However, I think I'll still be relieved when Lionheart is safely tied at Sandringham and I'm in the comfort of a car driving home ... then again, there are some dangerous drivers out there!

28.09.99

THE strong winds continue. I had to stop the boat for two days earlier this week while a particularly nasty front passed me. This means another two days longer before I get home. It has been quite cold also, with one rain cloud pelting down small hailstones. It only takes about a minute outside with bare hands before they start to sting - and less if you touch any metal. My weather adviser had warned me about the possibility of 40 knot winds so, before it arrived, I ventured outside to get things ready. Lionheart was only carrying a storm jib and travelling well as she surfed the moderate swell. I had to tie down the spinnaker pole because the bungies were wearing out and large waves were forcing the pole free. So I knelt down amidship at Lionheart's widest point while I replaced the bungy. It was just bad timing because at that point a gust of about 40 knots came, as did an extra large swell, which caused us to catch the wave and heel right over as we surfed uncontrollably, turning sidewards. It just happened that the boat was thrown over on the side that I was and Lionheart's shoulder dug into the water. The safety lines went under and I was half submerged hanging onto them. The pressure increased until the point where I felt at the mercy of the water rushing by. By then though we had, luckily, come to the end of our ride and swung back into position with me left high and dry straddling the safety lines. If I had gone overboard then I think I could have got back on deck because I had my harness on and the boat was surfing then stalling as the wave passed, which would have given me enough time to scramble on board. Even so, I was not very happy with the situation. The inside of my cosy wet weather gear was now wet and I was in a bad mood. I was flicking through the radio channels a couple of days ago and came across a French music radio station. I wouldn't have a clue what the DJ was talking about but he gets quite excited sometimes. The music is weird too but I just leave it on as it's nice to have a human voice in the background, even if I can't understand what it's on about. A birthday wish to David Dicks who is turning 21 tomorrow and will be celebrating out at sea. What a place to celebrate! I'm now an estimated 19 days away and looking forward to some sunshine. Most of this week looks like being 20-30 knots which should push me along quite well . . . hopefully.

05.10.99

I AM only 900 nautical miles from Melbourne and I still can't make radio contact with Sandringham Yacht Club. We must be using a frequency which is too high for the time of night because instead of hearing Stewy's voice coming through like I'd expect, I'm receiving some guy as clear as a bell saying in an Indian accent: "So you want to come into Bombay?" Radio signals can be strange. It all depends on the atmospheric conditions, weather and position of the sun. After my comment last week about most things that can break already having done so, I have to report two more casualties. First, and very annoying, is the chrome handle on the left of the companionway. One of the two attachments holding it to the wall has rusted through. Every time I go to climb into the cockpit I almost give myself a heart attack when it comes out and I nearly topple backwards. Second, and equally annoying, is the computer. The screen no longer shows anything understandable and one of the hinges has broken. I'm now using the spare computer and finding the keyboard strange. One foggy day last week I just happened to feel like standing at the stern of Lionheart and feel her taking on the waves. I was outside for only a few minutes when I saw something ahead and to starboard as we were on the crest of a wave. The next swell disclosed what had caught my eye. It was a motor vessel heading north on a collision course and gaining quickly. It was about half a mile away and I had about five minutes to spare, so I dropped the headsail and jibed over to run a parallel course in the opposite direction. I waited until it passed, then put the boat back on course before going below to call on the VHF radio. I received no reply. They probably didn't expect to see anyone down here and neither did I. I looked on the chart but there were no islands south of our position, so my only guess is that it was perhaps a survey vessel, a fishing boat or even a supply ship from Antarctica. I believe this is the second-last diary entry that I'll have to write. Wooohooo, because I'm running out of things to write about! It usually takes me about half an hour or 40 minutes to complete a diary entry and send it off.

This is a long time to sit still and have the computer open when water is coming in and the boat needs attention. I'm pleased to say it's only 20 knots at the moment and the sun is out, making it such a glorious day that I feel like letting loose with an Italian opera song. I don't know any opera songs and I can't speak Italian. But I would if I could. With only one more entry after this, I'd like to thank the following people who have been greatly involved and assisted in getting me away with a positive attitude and a "head-down, bum-up" approach: Dr GEOFF Broomhall, who instructed me in applying first aid treatment and organising my comprehensive medical kit. JACINTA Oxford, who spent countless hours walking down supermarket aisles taking notes and drawing up my nutritionally balanced menu. PHIL Carr and Dad, for their very hard work in co-ordinating the tradesmen in the boat yard and their many skills put to use in installing equipment. SCOTT Eccleston, from Sandringham Yacht Club, for helping me boost sailing's profile throughout my journey. JOHN Hill, for his moral support and fastidiousness in teaching me navigation, survival and maintenance and his behind-the-scenes phone calls. STEVE O'Sullivan, for his introductions and being the first organisation to take me on. ROGER Badham, for his correspondence with weather reports and advice every day. MUM and Andrew, who seemed to do all the jobs that go in between.

MATTHEW Gerard, the cornerstone to it all. And finally, thanks to Claire Bolge, of Grade 4, St Joseph's, Warragul, for this poem:


Sailing through the icy sea, heading back to home.


Determined to get back to shore, ambition made of stone.


Bravery's important, when you set out on a quest.


When you handle things like you do, you will come back like the best.

19.10.99

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