Up goes the spinnaker and we set sail, the wind is getting very light. We watch a catamaran take a wide line out of Salen and run aground, another boat, a ketch does the same. We stick to the chart data and take a line closer to the shore and leave them astern.

This is 'light airs' sailing at its best. The team start to scan around for wind. Where will it come off the land, patches of water that show wind ripples, sheer 'nouse' that we are on the right course. Some boats have gone to the north to find some air and we start to overhaul them. The wind speed drops as night falls and we dance with the breeze, moving the boat and sails to best advantage.

The level of concentration required is incredibly tiring, even for me, and I am just along for the ride. I am caught up in willing the boat forward. I didn't realise that I had seen nothing yet . Steering and sail handling is done with a delicate touch, we don't want to lose an inch of forward progress with a clumsy tug on the spinnaker or a needless turn of the wheel.

Down below the runners had 'Carbed up large'. Pasta and other types of power food had been consumed and Craig had piled some lotion on his knee injury. The cabin smelled as if they had dined on recycled engine oil with enough pasta to feed the entire Corleone family. Firmly buried in their sleeping bags, and with the gentle movement of the boat we hoped they would sleep well and be ready for the Paps of Jura.

For the crew a long and tiring night lay in store. The moon rose and the sea sparkled. Behind us the tricolour lights of other boats began to receed. We were making progress back up the fleet. With only 2 hours to go before dawn I found some space in the cabin, dragged a sleeping bag across my legs and tried to sleep.
I can't remember whose voice roused me but I was asked to get my cameras and get on deck rapid!
I didn't have a clue where we were for a few minutes, the light was cold grey and it was very cold. About twenty yards away was a multihull, an F31. As I got myself into gear I could see other sails, most of them behind us. The water around Stormcruiser looked 'confused'. Eddies and ripples ran in all directions and small whirpools formed and disappeared.

Most sailors would agree that a monohull should not catch a multihull, yet here we were, right alongside on of the fastest boats in the race. Not only that, we were about to pass them. Across the water we watched other boats try their luck against the currents. In a channel to the west we saw a boat make some forward progress, then, with full sail up, go backwards faster than she went forwards. It's sailing Jim but not as we know it!

Stormcruiser was in the tidal mystery of Luing and she was doing well. We crept forward, it felt as if we were dragging the boat along on sheer willpower. We eased past the F31 and gradually moved into better water. The wind started to lift and rain began to fall. The effort of 'willing' Stormcruiser through a night of difficult sailing had tired the crew. With the sails set for a run to Jura each member of the crew took turns at trying to grab some sleep. Scott took the helm and I sat up with him, made us a brew of something and cursed the rain.

As the daylight brightened we began to make good progress. Arriving at the east of Corryvreckan we could see some of the fleet chasing down the coast of Jura. They had taken a different line and sailed to the west avoiding the Sound of Luing. Scott decided to put in a tack to take us to Craighouse on Jura. Just where to tack was the problem. We sat watching the other boats and Scott made up his mind. Stormcruiser turned and away we went, watching the other boats drop away. If we weren't all so tired I think we would have been quite pleased!

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The team is pleased to be sponsored by Aztec Camping and have also received support from Victorinox, Recta and Maglite.