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Approaching the Panama Canal, hundreds of huge tankers lined the coastline. One giant tanker-park waiting to go through one 50 mile stretch of water, laden with goods of all shapes and guises waiting to feed, clothe, transport and decorate people around the world. An amazing thought as I pondered just how much cargo was sat there in front of my eyes.

In the harbour, I saw the other side of yachting. Boats worth more than luxury London apartments were full of crew cleaning every nook and cranny, waiting to go through the canal. When we questioned why a marina in such high demand only had one shower, we were politely told that most of the marina’s visitors had all the facilities they could ever need onboard. Good point, well made! It was in stark contrast to the backstreets of Panama, where rundown buildings that could collapse at any second housed numerous families. Still, as ever with such places, there were content young boys dazzling me with their football skills as they weaved their way around the opposition with the tatty, old ball glued to their naked feet. I ended my stroll around the French Quarter when a taxi driver stopped, not to pick me up but to tell me that if I walked any further down the street my life would be at risk…a good reason to return to my single shower before dinner.

If there’s one thing that has impressed me about Clipper it’s that they seem to excel with logistics. While boats can wait weeks before getting through the canal, the Clipper fleet of 10 yachts was through in 3 batches over 4 days. Having swotted up on my canal facts in the museum the day before, I was able to admire the massive human effort and achievement that enabled me to sail between North and South America. My favourite fact was that in building the canal, if all the drilling was in a straight line, they would have drilled through the earth and several hundred miles beyond. Contrary to many expectations the canal is north/south and the Pacific side is further east than the Atlantic side – you work it out!

Due to the time constraints, we motored away from the wind hole surrounding the coast line and tried a Le Mons start, whereby boats line up, turn their engines off and then hoist sails and maintain the same course for 10 minutes. By then, the fleet is spread out enough to go their own separate ways. We had a fantastic start. We were the only ones to go with the largest sail and we were off. We’d said that for the few days to Jamaica we were going to race hard and experience what it was like on other boats. What a great motivation as we sat on the rail, legs dangling over the edge and watching most of the fleet trying to catch us up.

Our joy was short lived. We soon found ourselves with the perfect conditions for our ‘secret weapon’, an unconventional way of flying one of our sails. It was time to reveal it to the world, having previously only flown it when the rest of the fleet was out of sight. Sadly, any interest in our sail change would have been confusion as to why we were letting such a good position slip away. We tried to minimise the damage and join the rest of the fleet with the same sail plan. However the damage was done and we were in the middle of a rainsquall, dampening our spirits, our hopes and any chance we had in this short race. We sat for 3 hours almost stationary while every other boat flew along at about 10 knots. I was so disheartened. All the build up and anticipation only to be let down like this. I couldn’t blame it on anyone as I’d been very supportive of going with our secret weapon. The way that the shifts worked out, I was only ‘off watch’ for 3 of the first 24 hours so I was exhausted and I thought about going to the bow to scream but I’d only have come back soaked from the waves crashing over the bow. I know it’s only a race and there’s plenty more important things in the world but…

Over the next few days there were glimmers of hope now and again and, as ever, as the clouds disappeared to reveal blue skies and warm Caribbean sunshine, life felt a little better. My brother who was waiting for me in Jamaica sent me an email insisting that we arrive at a decent hour and that he would sink a beer and tell an embarrassing story about me for every boat that came in before us. Arriving 10^th at 5 in the morning wasn’t ideal! However seeing family for the first time since Christmas was fantastic and our 48 hours in Jamaica gave me long enough to sample aki and saltfish, snapper, Red Stripe beer, a secluded beach (full of WA crew and their families!)  and Port Antonio’s coral reef. A couple of days is the longest we’ve had in port since Hawaii so the break was very much welcomed and we left on time, and back on the original schedule for the first time since our mast broke on March 5^th. Let’s hope that normal service resumes for us on the leaderboard!