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Looming out of the darkness, the black boat crept up on us.

Like a pirate ghostship, our nemesis emerged silently, stealthily from the mist when we were least expecting it.

For two-and-a-half days we had managed to keep her at bay. But in the Irish Sea, she reeled us in. Now it was a dogfight to the finish.

We were sailing back from the Fastnet Rock off southern Ireland in the 608-mile , a crew of seven young hotshot sailors and me on board 60ft ocean racer .

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Sleep deprived certainly, soaking maybe, cold probably, possibly hungry and perhaps even a bit scared... sounds a right laugh doesn't it?

What better way is there to spend a few lazy days in August? Beats watching England play cricket anyway. Where do I sign up?

Actually, I already have after bagging myself a spot on a boat in the infamous from Cowes to the Fastnet Rock off southern Ireland and back to Plymouth.

I say infamous for good reason - the cavalier attitude is just a front. This is the event that exactly 30 years ago witnessed one of the .

Fifteen sailors died as pleasant summer weather at the start gave way to horrendous storm-force winds and mountainous seas which battered the fleet.

Obviously we don't want that. But nor do we want no wind. It's not called the Slownet is it?

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