Right. How to start? ‘twas Sunday midday, and the voyagers gathered ‘round THE vessel of the century; the Challenger 3. Some old, some new, but all radically cool of course. Your current blogger had no experience whatsoever with sails and such, so observing the ropes being rigged for the upcoming adventure was exciting in itself. After a lovely dinner in the Gosport harbour, spending some time getting to know the people we’ll be with for two weeks, we set off!

It’s quite overwhelming at first, but if you keep your wits about you, you learn pretty much instantly. Watches were set, lifejackets put on, and port watch went right to sleep in order to prep for the 2300-0300 watch. Honestly, sleeping in a boat is quite comforting. It’s snug, and you fall into the blissful land of dreams instantly….. for the most of us 😊. We won’t mention the sea sickness that turned its head around the corner every now and then.

Anyways, waking up at 1045 and seeing the moon starting the cast a glow around you while you’re at sea is an experience I hope everyone will be able to enjoy at least once in their life. We’re quite a chatty bunch, so though we’d only known each other for a couple of hours the laughs were there and the tea and biscuits kept us nice and awake.

Crossing the English Channel (why is it actually called this considering there are other countries in the mix?) is freaky. Who knew so much water exists just between mainland and the island of Brits? And it’s actually so empty of other boats? Our lovely skipper and mate kept us going the right way, and we made it to our first port of call (Brest!) within roughly 32 hours. While it was chilly at sea, the minute we got closer to land we experienced the lovely effects of the heatwaves that have been plaguing the land – heat, heat, and some more heat. After a fitting lunch of steaming jack potatoes (?) and smooooth sailing through passport control (thank you Paige for being french) we had some free time and set off to test the french pastries. A few walks around brought us all to the PAUL bakery where ice creams, flans, tartlets, and more were ordered (thank you Paige). After the monstrous climb of the great wall of Brest we saw that there was even more to this naval city – shopping! A few bracelets heavier, the group split to do their own little things, some walking around, others in parks, and others on an extended quest to find even more local, authentic, original, family-business blablabla pastries de la french.

The day ended with a chat on the boat and discovering that goofiness really grows quite quickly. Not even two days in and Peter is pulling weird faces while Angus has made a necklace that will be very hip very soon – nicknamed Angus by Angus – the mankini.

While the sun was rising and starting a new day, we set off for a day-sail, having some intense lessons on all that is sailing. Ropes are no longer ropes – they’re halliards, sheets, taks, and so on. Knots are also forming into individual species, no longer just… knots.

Our favourite evening yet: anchoring in a beautiful calm beachy kind of place where we all accidentally fell into the water at the bow – oops. Flips, flops, splashes, and a couple of plankton stings make life a true experience. Lovely chats while watching the sun set behind the trees growing on top of rocky sea cliffs is such a sight that no camera can really capture it in its true state. Just a bit later the moon started peaking up from the horizon, creating a dusk that softens the views. While chatting in the cockpit, it rose to form and absolutely stunning red sphere in the sky. There was another sailing boat slowly making its way back home that sailed right next to the moon for a bit, which was one of those moments that you wish you had a device that could save not only what you see with your eye, but also what you sense around you – the cool breeze, the giggles and the genuine chats that we were having – all started by a rugby ball Matthew brought all the way from Switzerland.

Ok, got a bit sappy there. Currently we’re sailing off to our next destination! Good vibes and good times. See you on the next blog moment!

In the wee hours of the third rotation of the eighth month of the twenty-sixth year of the third millennium, Challenger 3 hit a melancholic lobster pot teaming with suspicious smells. Following a long and treacherous battle between the crew of Challenger 3 and the lobster pot, Skipper Matt of Birmingham dove into the depths of the freezing Atlantic Ocean (in his shorts) to check the lobster pot had surrendered its clutch on the rudder. Matt surfaced from the inky depths with his luscious blond hair streaming back like Aquaman.

Giles, who upon VAR review looked unnervingly like Peter, put the captive lobster pot in the bunk of Angus the ill Victorian child while he was asleep.

To recover from the morning’s shenanigans, the Crew tucked into a substantial breakfast of coco pops. There were some tense words exchanged over the choice of morning NIGHT CLUB music (Mr. Brightside) which made SOME members of the Crew (Niki & Peter) feel flat and defeated.

Challenger 3 shortly drifted into the lock of Port Saint Malo where a fishing vessel was playing some real bangers on the speakers. Peter grasped the opportunity to grace the passers by of the lock with a solo rendition of 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton. The crew were deeply appreciative of the morale boosting performance.

As soon as Challenger 3 was shipshape again Will (the coolest) made a valiant trip to check the status of the overhead washing facilities. Niki helpfully remarked that they were GREYate. Meaning they were very grey. Additionally, the laundry facilities were found to be very satisfactory. The Lads (minus Matthew) performed a celebratory Mario 360deg spin jump.

The Crew then splintered into multiple groups scattered themselves across the streets of Saint Malo to search for some scran. The chorus of American tourists was so loud you would have been hard pressed to distinguish the streets of Saint Malo from a Texas rodeo if you had your eyes closed.

The Crew participated in a selection of activities which included shopping (…ew), a ferris wheel which was apparently very boring, eating FAT crepes with glacial amounts of ice cream, doom scrolling and swimming/diving in the tide pool.

The Crew (except the losers) returned to Challenger 3 for a delicious carbonara prepared by Frankie. Things devolved quickly as I HATE FUN Paige and FUN POLICE Niki popped all balloons that had been put up for Swizzy Lizzie’s birthday. This made her feel swazzy. Then there was the birth of Cyril Nobert La Neige McGee. The sick love child of Paige and Frankie. Cyril is a green snowman with bright pink knickerbockers and a yellow bobbled beanie with a yellow bobble.

In a parallel reality, the losers ambushed a unsuspecting Italian Restaurant. The losers ate a chicken burger, salmon linguini, margarita pizza and a portion of chips. Millie found herself to be disgusted with the quality of the pizza and spat it out flagging down a waiter to voice her displeasure. Leah, who is lactose intolerant, tackled TWO gargantuan soft serve ice creams. She had to offer a ration of this to the bin gods as she found her stomach overpowered by the lactose. After many attempts to make friends with the Frenchies, the losers went to the beach and tried to assimilate with the local wildlife. Will did his very best to make friends with a seagull.

On a side note: the peekaboo poo, who keeps all who brave the starboard head company from even the most unexpected of angles, has now been playing peekaboo in excess of 48hrs. This is a testament to the resilience of boat food, specifically bolognese. It is reported to be a pure coincidence that this is the head that The Giles exclusively uses. To the horror of Red Watch (Paige, Peter, Matt, Leah and Sophie), they were asked to dislodge peekaboo poo with a sole toothpick. At the time of writing, Red Watch has not yet managed to complete this daunting task.

Challenger 3 Crew signing out