It had been a quiet trip up to now but at last the breeze was filling in and we needed to keep the sail area up. A small intensive low pressure was running us in, and we were losing. Very soon reefs were called for, the wind was building and conditions were becoming difficult but we had to move fast or the gale force winds would be upon us. Thunder appeared in the evening twilight to be all but flying and it looked as though we might make it. But then the situation deteriorated, a call was made to hand the jib topsail and it would not be long before night was upon us. Still everything depended upon the speed of the boat. Now it was dark, raining hard and we were in a deep channel with land invisible to our left and wind turbines secured to a submerged bank to the east. They were also invisible. The wind was 35 knots gusting 40 but there was not far to go, still the barometer was falling, would we make it, or were we going to have to turn back and run off downwind. Then we saw the lights of shore and thankfully found our way into the harbour and the eye of the storm passed over us, the wind died and we were there - in Ireland.

It had taken us 48 hours from the Hamble River, with a gentle sail to windward and westwards along the south coast with only a light breeze at Land's End and then the race up the Irish Sea before the building storm. Another boat had dived into Rosslare at Ireland’s extreme south east corner some 40 miles further south to recover, unable to sustain the amount of water coming over and into the boat and another yacht never made it seeking shelter in Milford Haven and not daring to move on.

We had sailed to Wicklow on the east coast of Ireland some 20 miles south of Dublin to take part in the BMW Round Ireland Race.
This time, for the first time, the 710 mile race was to be sailed with just two crew, Donald Wilks and myself.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to our delivery crew Ed Harland and Jerry Smith and spent time preparing the boat, resting and eating and building our reserves ready for the adventure.

The forecast for the race was not good. It was clear that more low pressures were on the way and winds were likely to be consistently between the southeast and northwest gradient and strong, indeed the start was delayed due to the forecast of gales.

Eventually the fleet of 49 boats were to leave Wicklow at 1800hrs(a six hour delay) on 26th June with Thunder part of a small contingent of 7 two-handed yachts starting and competing on the same course.
The winds had settled in the southeast between 20 and 30 knots and with the last of the fair tide we headed out to the start line outside the breakwater at Wicklow.

Those south easterly winds were scheduled to veer southwest and so it would be inevitable that we would be beating against it for the next 24 hours.

With the boat reefed down and a small headsail set we launched ourselves across the start line into the steep seas made more dramatic by the ebb tide.

Boats were losing sails, damage was occurring and seasickness was setting in on some vessels.

On Thunder the forestay foil looked as though it would split apart and I had concerns that our race would soon be over.

Conscious that the wind might die as it veered we held an offshore course outside the Tuskar Rock the safer option for a short-handed crew but perhaps not the quickest route as the tide would soon be foul.
With no sleep gained that night, at dawn we were changing headsails and heading west into Tramore Bay, all day we would battle westwards tacking on the shifts sometimes inshore, sometimes offshore and eventually in the late evening we found ourselves in the company of other racing boats off the harbour entrance of Cork.

Then the night came, the wind built and dropped and built and dropped again, more tacks were required, ships to avoid, lights to identify along the shore including the Old Head of Kinsale and then daylight came once again we had reached the Fastnet Rock.

The race instructions required us to report in at certain points in the race and we had called at Tuskar Rock and then gone on to round the Barrells Light Buoy, the Conningbeg Light Vessel, the Old Head of Kinsale and now the Fastnet Rock where we had to report again.

The Rock was a familiar sight although never seen in daylight by me before despite four previous roundings in the Fastnet Race itself. This time we were coming from the north and there were the shoals to the south, which had to be avoided as we left the lighthouse to starboard. The weather had cleared but the forecast was for more wind this time from the west-southwest and eventually the northwest.

Now we were entering the Atlantic proper, the swells were bigger and the rocks as ever to starboard more dramatic rising steeply out of a deep ocean. With the boat sailing fast once more and on the edge of control at speeds in excess of 12 knots we set off northwards, rushing past Mizen Head, Gull Rock off Bull Island and then around Washerwoman Rock. This rock and its accompanying rocks sat off Great Skellig its shape perhaps giving away the name of the rock to its west. Then at great speed across Dingle Bay to report to Valentia Radio when due west of Inishtearacht Lighthouse. How many men on board came the reply. None, just two tired mad souls!

We had been sailing two whole days with very little sleep had between us, we were tired but we were racing, apart from the foil which continued to concern me the boat was fine, a little wet but still fast.
Into Galway Bay, too far out to see the Aran Islands, daylight once again started to turn to dusk and then almost in twilight at midnight we were off the coast of Slyne Head.

The south westerly was still blowing a steady force 5 with promises of more and sometimes less, always to the east rocks, islands and mountains, this a coast that was a graveyard for the Spanish Armada and one can understand why. They would have had little chance of clawing off this lee shore as they headed homeward into the teeth of the southwesterly prevailing wind.

This wild shore was also a lee shore for us as we headed north but the wind was on our beam and we could always head up westwards out into the Atlantic away from the perils of Ireland's dangerous but beautiful west coast.

Soon we would be bearing away more, around Inishshark west of the Connemara Mountains then Black Rock and Eagle Island, and into Donegal Bay. With the wind heading north this was going to suit us.
Daylight was coming, and we had entered our third day looking far to our north east towards the Derryveagh Mountains. All day we sailed northwards, past Malin More Head, Aran Island and then Tory Island and the Tor Rocks off Inishtrahull.

At last we were at the very north of Ireland, the wind had veered south as we passed Tory Island with a smell of peat fires drifting across the water. There were racing yachts behind us, a larger yacht and one smaller, nothing seen in front.

It was getting dark again, there were squalls, more wind, conditions were worsening.

Malin Head that radio station so important for the north-west passage between Ireland and Scotland where the tides rip at up to 4 knots during springs was the next reporting station.

The Irish coastguard had done an excellent job. All the way we had reported, always they had been there, always advising the race committee the position of the yachts, recording retirements (there had been 9 so far) and here I was reporting in with just two more report stations to go. Yes we can hear you said Malin Head and your position please, due south of you, are you sure of that, that would put you on land. No of course we were north in the water, I just swapped the compass around in my head! The lack of sleep (which had so far amounted to perhaps 8 hours each in 72 hours) was starting to affect us.

On Tuesday night we had Rathlin Island to leave to starboard. The tide was taking us onto the shore and the wind was funnelling up from the south, it was a beat again. When did we last stop beating? It was 400 miles ago, when we rounded the Fastnet Rock. Now instead of being in the due south-west of the island we were now in the extreme north-east, it was colder, extraordinarily it was lighter, with summer darkness of perhaps just four hours and yet we had to take on Rathlin Island with a building wind and a difficult tidal stream.

Still the wind built, now it was plus 35 knots and then suddenly 40, the main had to be taken down. The water was rough and it was dark, the island was close by and yet we managed it. A feat only achieved and made possible with Donald climbing onto the boom to tie the headboard down. One of the other two handed boats ahead of us had lost their crew over the side but fortunately recovered him.

Much of the racing fleet experienced, tough, windy and difficult conditions here and we were not the only ones to drop the main at this point. We left Rathlin Island behind us. Now we were tightly hemmed in by the narrows of the North Channel with the Mull of Kintyre visible in the dawn twilight to the east and the mountains and moor land of County Antrim to our west.

The mainsail was back up, we were tacking again against the wind past the entrance to Belfast Lock, close in and then out as the wind shifted against us into the Irish Sea with the Isle of Man in the distance.

Then with reports from the Irish Coast Guard of military test firing, we had to be careful of our course.

Very tired now with daylight coming and yet a freezing wind and then a complete change with little wind and warmth from the southwest.

Then the wind inexplicably died and we were left drifting off the entrance to Strangford Lock.

Giant cumulus clouds created by the summer heat over Ireland had been sent skywards by the Mountains of Mourne and these sucked what air there was in the Irish Sea away, perfect for gliders but, leaving us and other boats bobbing helplessly in their wake.

However, as the day cooled, the wind settled back and our visions of being left out there for yet another whole night dissipated as Thunder once again launched herself forward, this time with a large headsail and a full main beating and fetching south-southwest towards Dublin Bay, the Wicklow Bank and the finish.

Dark again, it was Wednesday night but it could have been any night. We were entering Dublin Bay and extremely tired I chose the simplest passage between the Kish Bank and the mainland shore and we headed due south tacking three or four times right to the finish and crossing that line at 2 in the morning.

We then had a discussion as to how we would drop sails at 2 o'clock that Thursday morning and this appeared to be the hardest thing to achieve. Now I know why shorthanded race crew have support crews at the start and finish. I will make sure we have them next time!

With all the tacking against the wind we sailed some 825 miles around Ireland when a direct course is closer to 710. We took 4 days and 8 hours at an average speed of 7.9 knots and had slept in short one hour breaks perhaps for as much as 12 hours each in all. We completed it two handed and of the seven two handed starters, only four finished. We had achieved second on the water and second in class.

Eleven boats retired, two had lost their masts. The others had given up because of the rough weather principally due to seasickness and the resulting exhaustion.

Would we do it again – yes of course – but perhaps not two handed, there are too many rocks to miss. Give me the wide-open Atlantic any day!

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