Another maritime "virgin" gets sloppy

According to maritime tradition, equatorial "virgins" crossing the line for the first time must be tried by King Neptune for a raft of heinous crimes.

His punishments are severe. They consist of being covered from head to foot in the most revolting food slops known to man.

The remnants of chicken and sweetcorn pie, used teabags, lamb chilli, liquorice allsorts - with the odd flying fish and squid thrown in for added flavour.

Journalist in the dock

There were five of us in the dock. Rupert, Drew, Pete, Rick and myself. King Neptune, Paul Lynch, 37, a American trader in real life, donned the Royal robes to read out our catalogue of sins.

"I promise I'll never write another story..."

I found myself accused of never letting the truth get in the way of a good story. Totally false of course but on a boat there's no obvious escape route.

King Nep ordered me to take my medicine by kneeling in front of the rest of the crew while they ladled the slops - carefully matured in a bin bag - over my head.

It took buckets and buckets of sea water to remove the caked-on debris but I have now achieved the proud rank of "shellback".

It was a fun break from the serious business of racing. Our journey so far has taken us from Cape Town up past St Helena and Ascension Island into the Northern Hemisphere.

Down in the doldrums

We are currently making our way through the frustrating Doldrums - an unpredictable band of light and variable winds. Once we are free of them, we will continue heading up the West African coast towards the Cape Verde Islands and the Canary Islands.

Then it's a quick sprint along the Portuguese coast towards the Bay of Biscay and La Rochelle.

Boogie nights: Largin' it on deck

After a disappointing first week - our form has improved and we have caught up with the leaders by about 100 miles and are currently lying in 10th place.

The temperatures have been scorching although we occasionally get hit by the odd squall which feels like someone throwing a bathful of water directly over your head.

Most of our sailing so far has been with a spinnaker - the huge parachute shaped sail which flies at the front of the boat.

It has a clearly defined character. For hours it can behave beautifully, billowing gently as you trim it to get maximum speed. Then within seconds of Skipper Stephen Wilkins bounding on deck for a cigarette - it collapses in a bundle and threatens to wrap itself around the rigging.

"Another knot of boat speed lost," he bellows.

Packing spinnakers is also a nightmare. It is like a sauna below deck at the moment and trying to unravel the sail, ties bits of wool around it and stuff it into a pencil case sized bag is one of our less popular pastimes.

Boogie on board

But spirits are still pretty high thanks to Mario, our chief entertainment officer.

He's arranged the Ministry of Hong Kong deck disco, a climbing the rigging contest, quizzes, even a few games of deck bingo.

Stuck in the doldrums

So far I have won some Tinkerbell bubblebath, a stick-on tattoo and a glass of port. Scottish Chas, 26, says the BBC obviously stands for British Bingo Corporation.

Watching the marine life also helps to pass the time. So far we have spotted dolphins, sperm whales, and dodged aerial attack by flying fish who hurtle themselves on deck to escape from predators beneath the sea.

I'm still finding it excruciatingly painful to get woken up for a watch every three and a half hours during the night - but there are rewards when you climb on deck.

A midnight blue sky packed with stars or the chance to watch the sun rise - turning the clouds a million different shades of orange and pink.

Now all we need is a bit more wind to help us reach La Rochelle before Christmas....