Bishop's Rock lighthouse, off the southernmost tip of the Isles of Scilly, stretched its beam towards us in welcome as we finally made it back across the Irish Sea and once again and into the familiar waters of the English Channel.

This was the third day of my adventure aboard a boat in the elite fleet of Open 60 yachts which took part this year in one of the world's most famous offshore sailing races: the Fastnet.

On the first two days of the voyage the sun barely shone. Open 60s move incredibly fast through the water because of their streamlined design and massive sail area.

As a result the spray created as we surged through the sea soaked us day and night, and when it didn't, the rain made up the difference.

On the way home, though, the wind stayed with us and we managed a steady 15 to 17 knots for the remainder of the race.

The last stretch through the English Channel towards Plymouth was different than the slog across the barren Irish Sea. The Channel is full of traffic - oceangoing tankers and container ships, fishermen, ferries and coastguard vessels choke the passage way.

We know that on radar we appear as only a small sailboat. The difference being that under the same weather conditions a small sailboat would only be travelling at a third of the speed this boat is capable of attaining. Our speed means someone has to be up on deck all night watching we do not have a close encounter any other boats.

As the sun started to float above the horizon, Steve woke me from my nap: "Five miles to the finish Peter," he said. Spirit of Weymouth crossed the finishing line of the 2007 Fastnet race at 6:04 on Thursday morning, and despite being last one home in our class, there were congratulations all around.

As I have mentioned before, Spirit of Weymouth was the only Open 60 in the Fastnet without a sponsor for the race. As a result Steve was sailing a boat the best part of ten years older than the rest, and the difference showed.

We finished, though! A number of the Open 60s had been forced to retire for one reason or another. So we ended up eighth in our fleet, of an original 14.

The congratulations on the finish line were not for the time Steve and David took to sail from Cowes to the Fastnet Rock and back to Plymouth. The celebrations were for completing a race that most people had abandoned because they and their boats were unable to cope with the bad weather.

Prior to the race 300 boats had entered the competition. By the time of the start only 271 showed up to cross the line. When we crossed the finish 204 of the 271 that started had quit, unable to cope with the worst weather the bi-annual race has seen since 15 sailors died in the storms of 1979.

Back in the race centre we looked at the leader board to discover that we were the 17th boat to cross the finish line.

Despite our position it never felt like a defeat. Everywhere Steve and David went on the morning of the finish they were congratulated on how well they did despite the conditions and their complete lack of money to launch a proper challenge. I, on the other hand, could think of easier ways to earn a pay cheque but I am sure they would be nowhere near as fun.

So we had rounded the Fastnet Rock.

Like any great climb, however, the Summit is only the beginning of the return home. Trouble still lurked ahead for us but, at least this time the wind was in our favour. Not long after leaving Fastnet Rock we lowered our headsail and put up the bright yellow spinnaker to maximise our speed.

For the first two hours skipper and owner Steve White took the helm off autopilot and steered the boat himself, feeling his craft accelerate down the waves.

Having been up most of the night, Steve then decided to retire to his bunk to catch some rest. I remained on deck with co-captain David Melville to enjoy watching the boat hold an average speed of 15 knots, faster than most yachts in the world would be able to travel with winds of only about 17 knots.

A few minutes after Steve closed his eyes the wind surged, overpowering the boat and forcing a broach. This is when the boat is flipped right over, flat on its side, and the sails hit the water. It happens occasionally and is not something major to worry about. Keelboats like the Open 60 are meant to right themselves even if they flip over.

Unfortunately, though, the spinnaker became trapped in the water and tore from head to foot as the boat righted itself. I watched as this beautiful sail was reduced to shreds in a matter of seconds. It tore off completely off and sank before anyone had a chance to save it.

Steve's sleep would have to wait. Within seconds he was back up on deck attempting to clear the mess. Had this been any of the other Open 60s in the fleet the next move would have been to shrug the shoulders and put up another sail. But Steve has no sponsor. He is funding the boat himself, through loans and re-mortgages. He had just lost a sail which will cost around £10,000 to replace.

Steve and David put up a foresail and before long we were once again making miles towards the Isles of Scilly, although at a lower speed than before the broach that spoiled our morning.

As the day drifted into afternoon, and the three of us were restored to vitality with a bowl of curry and rice, Steve once again started to plot putting up more sail. In the end he chose to add to canvas with a staysail. It is a durable and small sail, and with the wind picking up to a firm 25 knots and still blowing over our hindquarter it was the perfect choice.

Before long Spirit of Weymouth was sailing down waves at a blistering 20 plus knots. There are only a few boat designs in the world that can move that fast under sail, and to be aboard is something special. The sensation was enough to erase the previous two days of misery in the rain and storms that battered our 60-foot-boat all the way to Fastnet.

The joy of sailing that fast through the sea, contrasted with the hardship of pouring rain and nasty headwinds, crystallises what it means to love this sport. There are cold nights, wet clothes, dull food and discomfort at every turn, but blasting across the Irish Sea at 20 knots in the sunshine, with sea spray leaping into the air and a bunch of dolphins diving in and out of the boat's wake make the toll worth paying.

The tiny islands of Scilly have claimed hundreds of ships and sailing boats over the centuries, and as we passed them at sunset Wednesday night it was easy to think of the seafarers before us who came this way and never made it home again.

As night fell we settled into the last leg towards Plymouth, hoping to make it into port in time for a late breakfast.

After two days and nights of pounding into the waves and wind, on Spirit of
Weymouth we could finally see a light that would signal the end of 48 of the
most tiring hours you could spend at sea. By 2:30 Wednesday am the sweeping
beam from Fastnet Rock lighthouse was finally visible - still 20 miles away,
but visible.

It would take until 5:45 am Wednesday, London Greenwich time, before we
would eventually round the dramatic cliffs and tall lighthouse clinging to
the side of them - and when we did it was a moment to savour. Steve White,
the owner and co-captain, and David Melville, the other co-captain and I sat
quietly for 45 minutes pondering our achievement as we rounded the rock and
began our journey back across the Irish sea towards Land's End.

As we passed within a few miles of the Irish coast our cell phones fluttered
to life briefly and Steve managed to talk to his wife, Kim, about how the
race was going as a whole. Try as I did I could not reach My wife, Donna. We
were starving for news. While we have email we have no access to the
internet and had not seen another boat in the race for almost 24 hours.

We learned that of the 300 who started the race at noon on Monday 180 had
dropped out on account of bad weather. We also learned that of those who
remain we were, as of 6:00 am, in 15th place overall. Almost half of the 16
boats that had started the race in our fleet of Open 60s had been among
those retired.

Steve says that he never likes to beat someone because they have been forced to quit, but I can tell he does take some satisfaction knowing that, despite operating on a shoestring budget, he is managing what some of the multi million dollar sponsored campagains cannot: a challenge for the finish line. Of ourse there
is still a while to go...

Rounding the Fastnet Rock signalled the end of sailing against the northerly winds. As we turned the corner we would now have the wind behind us. It would mean travelling twice as fast and with only a third of the banging around that was making everyday life on board a nightmare.

Going to the toilet, making a cup of tea, getting dressed over the previous
two days was exhausting. Lift one foot up to slip it into your oilskins and
you are sent flying across the floor and crashing into something with a
corner sharp enough to leave a bruise. Try to go for a pee and you find more
of it on yourself than in the bowl. And all this is only supplemental to
sitting in the rain for hours on end while trying to sail a boat in one of
the world's toughest offshore races.

The last two days have been a real test for Steve and David. Every day they have had to confront their own exhaustion. With the worst of it now behind them I can sense some big sleeps coming on as the favourable winds carry us back to England. Still there is no time for celebration just yet. It is only the morning of the second day. There are still over 200 miles left to go and any manner of things could go wrong to delay our arrival in Plymouth.

I'll leave it there for now. I can see the sky is clearing and I would like to try and sample some of the first Sunshine I have had in 48 hours before it turns to rain once more.

The night, it is fair to say, was brutal. The wind started whipping up, and
before long the emergency 'man overboard' buoy was swept out of its casing
and into the drink, never to be seen again.
Those buoys are only supposed to be thrown over the side if a member of
the crew has gone over. If any other boat found it just floating there
it could have started a search and rescue effort. To allay any such fears,
Steve had to put in a call to the coastguard and let them know what had
happened.

Listening to the radio chatter, it seemed quite obvious that we were not the
only boat losing things. Another yacht was saying it has lost its mainsail
and was making for shelter somewhere along the coast. On Tuesday we
received word that almost half of the 300 boats that had started the race
the day before had been forced to
withdraw on account of severe weather.

The Fastnet race is not a particularly long offshore contest at 600 miles
but it is known the world over because of conditions like the ones we are
seeing today. As I write this I have no idea exactly how many boats
are still in the race and if anyone has been hurt or lost. I hope not.

What I can report is that the calm in the weather this morning, which lasted
for a few hours after a hairy night, did not last as long as we would have
liked. The clouds once again swallowed the blue sky and the Irish sea
beyond Land's end has turned a sinister oily colour that is only broken up
by the frothing of the waves.

As I write this we are virtually in the middle of the Irish Sea and so much
water is crashing over the deck it reminds me of being in a carwash - with
the windows left down. The soggy conditions make
everything harder and can be blamed on the way this boat was designed.

The Open 60 is primarily made for sailing with the wind behind it, from the
beam to the stern. Up wind, against the waves and weather, it slows down and
becomes nasty. Throughout the night Steve was up on deck by himself changing
and
re-changing sails to make sure he took the best possible advantage of
what the weather was giving him. A boat like this sails best when the
perfect amount of sail area matches the wind conditions.

To keep going can be difficult in the best of conditions, with the best
possible wind, and we have not been getting either. The wind keeps shifting
and we must continually adjust our course as we beat into it.

The only break from this routine came in Tuesday afternoon, when the wind
moved back enough for us to sail with it nearly coming over the side of the
boat instead of the front. The boat literally took
off, and before long we were making 17 knots. Then
the wind shifted again and we were back to battling into the waves.

Despite the foul weather and the annoying pattern of wind shifts it is nice
to be on a boat that has no intention of retiring from the race. We are
going to the Fastnet light and back to Plymouth and, unless something
horrible happens, nothing is going to change that.

Spirit of Weymouth may be the only non-sponsored entry in the elite Open 60 class, but we have survived longer than some of the other boats in our class. Some of them have already been forced to retire. The fact that we are still chasing the pack in a boat that is ten years older than every other Open 60 in the race is a testament to the two men trimming the sails and plotting the course. They sleep in wet clothes, on a wet bed, in shifts of no more than two hours long. It is a test to see who will give in first, the will or the wind.

Latest on the race:
fastnet.rorc.org/news.asp

Track the boat:
www.eventserver.co.uk/raceplay&event=50&typ=E

It was not long after the Sun set that we learned the storm warnings coming
from the British coastguard were just about spot on. Darkness brought with
it rain, heavy rain and increased winds from a high of about 18 knots in the
day to over 40 knots.

Our route, towards Land's End, was made all the more difficult because that
was pretty much where the wind was coming from. It meant we had to bash into
the waves all night, sailing up wind, in order to reach the Lizard Lighthouse
near Land's End.

Open 60's are some of the fastest boats under sail anywhere, but they are not
meant for sailing against the wind. Built almost completly of carbon fibre,
every bang, every creak of the rigging as the boat comes under strain and
every wave we hit sends shockwaves through the hull.

The banking and knocking of the hull is at times so bad it makes sleep a
slippery goal. Trying to put your head down is like trying to sleep in a
steel barrel rollng down a mountain side.

Making the journey all that more uncomfortable is the wetness. Waves constantly crash into the cockpit, drenching everything and making any time on deck a soaking experience. Co-captain David Melville describes the Spirit of Weymouth as currently a "submarine with masts on" and he is not far wrong. I can see him up on deck right now getting a lashing of water in the face.

By first light the wind had started to die and I was being warned that when
we rounded Land's End I would see what this boat would really do. We would
soon be sailing where this boat "likes it" with the wind coming over the
side instead of the front. I can hardly wait; anything has to be better than
this constant banging into the waves all night.

Standing on deck in the almost pitch black with the waves and rain lashing
us as they did last night I asked myself what kind of a man would want to
sail in the Vendee Globe race. The boat's owner, Steve White, is gearing his
whole life towards entering that race and if he is sucessful it will mean
three months at sea, alone, bashing into the waves and mist... It has only
been one day of it so far off the English coast and I think I have already
had my fill.

The text message lit up my phone late on Sunday night: "Do you want to do
the Fastnet tomorow?" It was only one line but it was enough to send my
heart into an excited panic.

Every kid I sailed with in sailing school as a child dreamt, or at least
talked as if they dreamt, about racing in the Fastnet. Since the first race
kicked off in 1975 it has become one of the oldest, most prestigious and
dangerous off-shore sailing races in the world.

The offer on the table was for me to join, as a member of the media, the
Open 60 class - the most competitive and agressive fleet in the race. The
Open 60 class is the Formula One of the yacht world. These boats were built
for speed, not comfort.

Over 300 boats enter the Fastnet race, which is held every other year, and they range greatly in how they are expected to perform. Some are family yachts,
others are occasional racers, then there are the professionals, the iron men - the Open 60s. The degree of difficulty, the harsh conditions, the lack
of sleep take their toll on this 600-mile, three-day-and-night race, and almost every year a third of boats do not finish.

In 1979 only a third of boats did finish and a staggering 15 people lost their lives. Safety has improved since the tragedy of 1979 but the race is
still dangerous. I am aiming to give you an insight into the life of an off-shore racer in one of the sports biggest events.

That's it for now.... typing while standing at a 45 degree angle, slamming
upand down in the waves, is tiring.