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A Southern ocean odyssey

17 January 2016
A personal account of a Southern ocean odyssey and iconic ocean race, from Leading Hand Andrew Fulton, HMS Scotia.

Perth, Sydney, Hobart.

It is the 0400hrs watch change and with a swift, no-nonsense handover we four are back in control once again, commanding ‘Adventure’ to the next waypoint.

The off-watch waste no time casting off their soaking oilskins, pausing only for balance as the 72 foot steel yacht pitches and rolls through the darkness of the Southern Ocean.

The wet locker is now soaking again.

Four kilometres beneath us, the ocean is calm but at its surface, a confused, irregular chop challenges even the oldest and boldest of ‘sea dogs’ among our 17-strong crew. Beyond Cape Leeuwin, the Great Australian Bight lives up to its reputation – it is December and despite the Southern hemisphere Summer weather ashore, the Southern Ocean wakes us with a jolt as we make passage eastwards from Perth to Sydney.

The off-watch splinter to port and starboard, forward and aft, following the dim red lighting to crash out on simple canvas bunks - a chance to calm down, reflect and sleep after fighting with the largest of our headsails, downsizing the sail plan to counter the increasing wind strength and battling to keep the down coming sail on board while the sea tries wrenching it from the yacht over the low side.

This is the Southern Ocean, this is life at sea and this is our world right now – 35 knots of true wind and it is steadily building.

We are crashing to windward and ’Adventure’ is heeled over at 30 degrees. 70 or so feet in front of me the foredeck frequently submerges into the Southern Ocean and every so often, a wave finds its way back to our refuge, the cockpit, draining away only when it has drenched Darren, Frank, 'Jobbers' and I.

It is dark and we are clipped on. We are left soaking, waiting for the next one and in the meantime the salt spray attacks us. It feels relentless. Is this it for the next two weeks?

Ahead of us is the infamous Rolex Sydney Hobart race but for now just getting to the start line is the challenge. We have over 2000nm to run and with best efforts to trim sails and hold the optimum course, it will still take two weeks to get this 55 tonne yacht to Sydney.

For now, we four ‘have the ship’: trimming the headsail, staysail and mainsail, alternating behind the oversized wheel,  the cockpit and the snakepit to control all the lines which give Adventure her speed and direction.

By 0800Hrs when we come off watch we have sailed nearly 40nm and brought the Bass Strait and the Tasman Sea that little bit closer.

The distance is written up on the saloon noticeboard at the end of every watch: just one of several tricks we have to keep the three watches competing against each other for the speed and distance records.

The exhilaration of the here and now is enough to keep us awake but as the days roll by we increasingly rely on artificial stimulus to stave off fatigue and loss of concentration.

The budding barista’s among us come up with ever more inventive ways of serving up the South African and Australian coffee, victualled for the yacht at her last two stopovers.

With the four hour watch complete, I make the fourth entry into the ships log and hand over Adventure to Blue Watch. Time now for the briefest of breakfasts and a wardrobe change once again, this time to base layer thermals and a sleeping bag. I am hastily in my ‘cot’ with the lee cloths stretched tight on each side, stopping me from rolling out of bed.

It takes me half an hour to relax and fall asleep – I lie watching the rising sunlight as it dances over the inside of the yacht piercing its way through the small hatch above.

The sound of the ocean rushing past the hull reminds me how fast Adventure is going and the steady motion tells me the helm is now focused. Gradually, the low pressure weather system moves Eastwards ahead of us and over the next 12 hours we are grateful for the high pressure and calm weather that follows – a chance to recharge and relax after our Southern Ocean baptism.

As the weather system calms for now, we settle into a rhythm of eating, sleeping and working the yacht. Days become irrelevant as time is measured by this simple routine.

We look forward to the welcome distractions of breadmaking, using the sextant to fix our position, the brilliant skys at night and all manner of and ‘make and mend’ jobs, attending to the maintenance and repair work as we push for New South Wales.

The remaining 10-day passage is largely uneventful and so for me, this is a welcome foil to the busy civilian and military life I lead ashore. We are graced with the occasional presence of sea birds and mammals and apart from the very occasional vessel sighting there is no other evidence of life in this part of the planet.

Our daily routine includes recording specific meteorological observations and something that elevates idle conversation about the weather to an advanced level - responding to a request from the Met Office we are recording weather here because there is relatively few data for this ‘route’.

Fast forward 10 days and we have settled entirely into life aboard 'Adventure of Hornet'. With supple sea legs we now take everything aboard in our stride but are not complacent about our little world.

Land legs are a distant muscle memory and my watch is well versed and ready for the race. We need not shout anymore to be heard on deck - hand signals suffice and we can anticipate most moves when changing sails. Short naps work better round the clock and suit our four-on-four-off routine.

On the morning of day 14, the onset of landfall should come as no surprise but it takes several moments for the significance of this view to sink in. From the seemingly endless blue horizons of the ocean to the browns and greens of land and the new and strange array of smells, the transition from ocean to coast is an assault on my senses.

As Sydney Heads and the fairway bouy hove into view through the mirky dawn, all 17 of the ship’s company gather on deck to witness our approach. The mood is upbeat and we nod at each other, acknowledging the 2000nm experience that has just happened.

We are 10nm off and there is the transit through Sydney harbour still to go before we come alongside at the Royal Australian Navy’s facility at Garden Island, next but one bay to the opera house.

The last few miles are a busy time dropping and stowing sails, preparing lines for arrival and taking in all the signs of life ashore. As the miles become yards we are greeted with the sight of several 100ft ‘speedbirds’ out on their training runs. We will see these sleek racing yachts again when, on Boxing Day, we join them and over 100 other yachts, jostling for the optimum course across the start line and our next leg, the Rolex Sydney Hobart yacht race.

The Sydney Hobart race village at Sydney’s Rushcutter’s Bay is alive with all manner of yachts. We see crews ‘hunting in packs’, bonded by branded clothing and their group dynamics.

We are no different and there is an air of waiting, expectation and impatience. Christmas day comes and goes with the mandatory barbecue, dip in the harbour and general sun lounging before an early finish and horizontal ponder as we each mentally prepare for tomorrow.

It is the morning of the race and Steve the skipper leaves for a final race briefing while the rest of us busy ourselves nervously with final preparations. Breakfast is entirely functional - my appetite having disappeared since waking hours ago.

Andy checks the charts and route; Mark checks stowage and sail plan; Helen and I discuss watch tactics with our respective watches. Before I know it we are milling about on the water looking for the start line and the race course out of the harbour. To any non-sailor watching, the 100 plus yachts mustering in the start area must look like total chaos.

We each have specific jobs for the start line and mine is port-hand lookout, trying to anticipate potential collisions. I misjudge the proximity of a yacht crossing our bows, thinking it is far closer - we are among a group of jostling boats with virtually no room to manoeuvre.

Steve is on the wheel and has seen it too. He judges the course, angles and speed perfectly - leaving enough room for a cigarette paper between us and the yacht crossing our bows - this is not even the start!

When the start comes, it is an amazing blur of hulls, colourful sails and excited crews all within touching or shouting distance of each other. We are finally off but have to claw our way out of the harbour, tacking across the wind to make progress before we turn South towards Tasmania.

Our sister ship, Discoverer, is ahead and we have 5 or so days to turn this situation around if we are to beat her over the line or on corrected time. Later on as we sail downwind as fast as we dare there is a sudden shout - 'all hands on deck'! The huge spinnaker sail has failed - ripping itself free from its reinforced edges.

We all help to wrestle the giant monster below and start thinking about every possible way to keep the speed on so we can overtake Discoverer. The next four days are spent focusing on trimming, course and overhauling our nemesis. The turning point, literally and figuratively (as the slower of the two boats) is Cape Pillar, the iconic waypoint at the Southeast corner of Tasmania, where the fleet turns northwestwards up the Derwent River.

It is the middle of the night and Hobart is tantalisingly close (at least on the chart). The wind has all but disappeared and we are in silent mode, ghosting along trying to find pockets of wind. Discoverer goes wide in the outer estuary and we take her after an intense three hour stint behind the wheel. She takes us and we are back to square one again.

It is the classic cat and mouse scenario as we change places until she manages to break free with a better course. This is not how I saw the Sydney Hobart race finish.

Our top speed in the river has been about 4.5knots and the finish line just doesn't seem to get any nearer. We go wide in the final stages knowing that we probably won't catch Discoverer on her course.

This is an utterly amazing finish - we can't get line honours but we still have a chance to take the Oggin cup for the first military vessel on corrected time.

Come on Adventurer, come on!

The entire crew is on deck, on the rail and as we track across the wind, the whole crew gingerly changes place from the left to the right side, balancing the boat out as we manoeuvre around the wind for the best angle.

The line is one boat length away now and we can see the majority of the fleet and crews in the harbour, watching our finish on huge screens. Every second counts and we still don't know if we have done enough as the finish hooter marks the end of our race.

At that precise moment I feel proud of our efforts and shared experience over the last near 3000nm odyssey. Adventure is not just a great round the world yacht and this is not just another expedition.

It is the amazing people on board that made it such a rewarding experience - Steve, Mark, Andy, Helen, Steve, Adrian, Frank, Chris, Iain, Fran, Darren, Stuart, Alex, Jobbers, Harry, Tom and I.

It is Hogmanay, in Hobart and tomorrow we will be awarded the Oggin cup. For now, it is 0830hrs and the bar is open........

This is just one footnote in the story of ‘Adventure of Hornet’ and its sister ship ‘Discoverer of Hornet ‘ as they reach closer to a world circumnavigation (on Ex Transglobe).

For the joint services crews that man these steel-built yachts, each has their own story to tell over the 13 legs that make up the circumnavigation. For me, this is the very best that military AT can offer.

Leading Hand Andrew Fulton, HMS Scotia.

 

By 0800Hrs when we come off watch we have sailed nearly 40nm and brought the Bass Strait and the Tasman Sea that little bit closer. The distance is written up on the saloon noticeboard at the end of every watch: just one of several tricks we have to keep the three watches competing against each other for the speed and distance records. The exhilaration of the here and now is enough to keep us awake but as the days roll by we increasingly rely on artificial stimulus to stave off fatigue and loss of concentration. The budding barista’s among us come up with ever more inventive ways of serving up the South African and Australian coffee, victualled for the yacht at her last two stopovers. With the four hour watch complete, I make the fourth entry into the ships log and hand over Adventure to Blue Watch. Time now for the briefest of breakfasts and a wardrobe change once again, this time to base layer thermals and a sleeping bag. I am hastily in my ‘cot’ with the lee cloths stretched tight on each side, stopping me from rolling out of bed. It takes me half an hour to relax and fall asleep – I lie watching the rising sunlight as it dances over the inside of the yacht piercing its way through the small hatch above. The sound of the ocean rushing past the hull reminds me how fast Adventure is going and the steady motion tells me the helm is now focused. Gradually, the low pressure weather system moves Eastwards ahead of us and over the next 12 hours we are grateful for the high pressure and calm weather that follows – a chance to recharge and relax after our Southern Ocean baptism.


As the weather system calms for now, we settle into a rhythm of eating, sleeping and working the yacht. Days become irrelevant as time is measured by this simple routine. We look forward to the welcome distractions of breadmaking, using the sextant to fix our position, the brilliant skys at night and all manner of and ‘make and mend’ jobs, attending to the maintenance and repair work as we push for New South Wales. The remaining 10-day passage is largely uneventful and so for me, this is a welcome foil to the busy civilian and military life I lead ashore. We are graced with the occasional presence of sea birds and mammals and apart from the very occasional vessel sighting there is no other evidence of life in this part of the planet. Our daily routine includes recording specific meteorological observations and something that elevates idle conversation about the weather to an advanced level - responding to a request from the Met Office we are recording weather here because there is relatively few data for this ‘route’.


Fast forward 10 days and we have settled entirely into life aboard 'Adventure of Hornet'. With supple sea legs we now take everything aboard in our stride but are not complacent about our little world. Land legs are a distant muscle memory and my watch is well versed and ready for the race. We need not shout anymore to be heard on deck - hand signals suffice and we can anticipate most moves when changing sails. Short naps work better round the clock and suit our four-on-four-off routine.


On the morning of day 14, the onset of landfall should come as no surprise but it takes several moments for the significance of this view to sink in. From the seemingly endless blue horizons of the ocean to the browns and greens of land and the new and strange array of smells, the transition from ocean to coast is an assault on my senses. As Sydney Heads and the fairway bouy hove into view through the mirky dawn, all 17 of the ship’s company gather on deck to witness our approach. The mood is upbeat and we nod at each other, acknowledging the 2000nm experience that has just happened.  We are 10nm off and there is the transit through Sydney harbour still to go before we come alongside at the Royal Australian Navy’s facility at Garden Island, next but one bay to the opera house. The last few miles are a busy time dropping and stowing sails, preparing lines for arrival and taking in all the signs of life ashore. As the miles become yards we are greeted with the sight of several 100ft ‘speedbirds’ out on their training runs. We will see these sleek racing yachts again when, on Boxing Day, we join them and over 100 other yachts, jostling for the optimum course across the start line and our next leg, the Rolex Sydney Hobart yacht race.


The Sydney Hobart race village at Sydney’s Rushcutter’s Bay is alive with all manner of yachts. We see crews ‘hunting in packs’, bonded by branded clothing and their group dynamics. We are no different and there is an air of waiting, expectation and impatience. Christmas day comes and goes with the mandatory barbecue, dip in the harbour and general sun lounging before an early finish and horizontal ponder as we each mentally prepare for tomorrow.


It is the morning of the race and Steve the skipper leaves for a final race briefing while the rest of us busy ourselves nervously with final preparations. Breakfast is entirely functional - my appetite having disappeared since waking hours ago. Andy checks the charts and route; Mark checks stowage and sail plan; Helen and I discuss watch tactics with our respective watches. Before I know it we are milling about on the water looking for the start line and the race course out of the harbour. To any non-sailor watching, the 100 plus yachts mustering in the start area must look like total chaos. We each have specific jobs for the start line and mine is port-hand lookout, trying to anticipate potential collisions. I misjudge the proximity of a yacht crossing our bows, thinking it is far closer - we are among a group of jostling boats with virtually no room to manoeuvre. Steve is on the wheel and has seen it too. He judges the course, angles and speed perfectly - leaving enough room for a cigarette paper between us and the yacht crossing our bows - this is not even the start! When the start comes, it is an amazing blur of hulls, colourful sails and excited crews all within touching or shouting distance of each other. We are finally off but have to claw our way out of the harbour, tacking across the wind to make progress before we turn South towards Tasmania. Our sister ship, Discoverer, is ahead and we have 5 or so days to turn this situation around if we are to beat her over the line or on corrected time. Later on as we sail downwind as fast as we dare there is a sudden shout - 'all hands on deck'! The huge spinnaker sail has failed - ripping itself free from its reinforced edges. We all help to wrestle the giant monster below and start thinking about every possible way to keep the speed on so we can overtake Discoverer. The next four days are spent focusing on trimming, course and overhauling our nemesis. The turning point, literally and figuratively (as the slower of the two boats) is Cape Pillar, the iconic waypoint at the Southeast corner of Tasmania, where the fleet turns northwestwards up the Derwent River. It is the middle of the night and Hobart is tantalisingly close (at least on the chart). The wind has all but disappeared and we are in silent mode, ghosting along trying to find pockets of wind. Discoverer goes wide in the outer estuary and we take her after an intense three hour stint behind the wheel. She takes us and we are back to square one again. It is the classic cat and mouse scenario as we change places until she manages to break free with a better course. This is not how I saw the Sydney Hobart race finish. Our top speed in the river has been about 4.5knots and the finish line just doesn't seem to get any nearer. We go wide in the final stages knowing that we probably won't catch Discoverer on her course. This is an utterly amazing finish - we can't get line honours but we still have a chance to take the Oggin cup for the first military vessel on corrected time. Come on Adventurer, come on! The entire crew is on deck, on the rail and as we track across the wind, the whole crew gingerly changes place from the left to the right side, balancing the boat out as we manoeuvre around the wind for the best angle. The line is one boat length away now and we can see the majority of the fleet and crews in the harbour, watching our finish on huge screens. Every second counts and we still don't know if we have done enough as the finish hooter marks the end of our race. At that precise moment I feel proud of our efforts and shared experience over the last near 3000nm odyssey. Adventure is not just a great round the world yacht and this is not just another expedition. It is the amazing people on board that made it such a rewarding experience - Steve, Mark, Andy, Helen, Steve, Adrian, Frank, Chris, Iain, Fran, Darren, Stuart, Alex, Jobbers, Harry, Tom and I. It is Hogmanay, in Hobart and tomorrow we will be awarded the Oggin cup. For now, it is 0830hrs and the bar is open........


This is just one footnote in the story of ‘Adventure of Hornet’ and its sister ship ‘Discoverer of Hornet ‘ as they reach closer to a world circumnavigation (on Ex Transglobe). For the joint services crews that man these steel-built yachts, each has their own story to tell over the 13 legs that make up the circumnavigation. For me, this is the very best that military AT can offer.

Leading Hand Andrew Fulton, HMS Scotia.

 

We are crashing to windward and ’Adventure’ is heeled over at 30 degrees. 70 or so feet in front of me the foredeck frequently submerges into the Southern Ocean and every so often, a wave finds its way back to our refuge, the cockpit, draining away only when it has drenched Darren, Frank, 'Jobbers' and I. It is dark and we are clipped on. We are left soaking, waiting for the next one and in the meantime the salt spray attacks us. It feels relentless. Is this it for the next two weeks? Ahead of us is the infamous Rolex Sydney Hobart race but for now just getting to the start line is the challenge. We have over 2000nm to run and with best efforts to trim sails and hold the optimum course, it will still take two weeks to get this 55 tonne yacht to Sydney. For now, we four ‘have the ship’: trimming the headsail, staysail and mainsail, alternating behind the oversized wheel,  the cockpit and the snakepit to control all the lines which give Adventure her speed and direction.

 

By 0800Hrs when we come off watch we have sailed nearly 40nm and brought the Bass Strait and the Tasman Sea that little bit closer. The distance is written up on the saloon noticeboard at the end of every watch: just one of several tricks we have to keep the three watches competing against each other for the speed and distance records. The exhilaration of the here and now is enough to keep us awake but as the days roll by we increasingly rely on artificial stimulus to stave off fatigue and loss of concentration. The budding barista’s among us come up with ever more inventive ways of serving up the South African and Australian coffee, victualled for the yacht at her last two stopovers. With the four hour watch complete, I make the fourth entry into the ships log and hand over Adventure to Blue Watch. Time now for the briefest of breakfasts and a wardrobe change once again, this time to base layer thermals and a sleeping bag. I am hastily in my ‘cot’ with the lee cloths stretched tight on each side, stopping me from rolling out of bed. It takes me half an hour to relax and fall asleep – I lie watching the rising sunlight as it dances over the inside of the yacht piercing its way through the small hatch above. The sound of the ocean rushing past the hull reminds me how fast Adventure is going and the steady motion tells me the helm is now focused. Gradually, the low pressure weather system moves Eastwards ahead of us and over the next 12 hours we are grateful for the high pressure and calm weather that follows – a chance to recharge and relax after our Southern Ocean baptism.


As the weather system calms for now, we settle into a rhythm of eating, sleeping and working the yacht. Days become irrelevant as time is measured by this simple routine. We look forward to the welcome distractions of breadmaking, using the sextant to fix our position, the brilliant skys at night and all manner of and ‘make and mend’ jobs, attending to the maintenance and repair work as we push for New South Wales. The remaining 10-day passage is largely uneventful and so for me, this is a welcome foil to the busy civilian and military life I lead ashore. We are graced with the occasional presence of sea birds and mammals and apart from the very occasional vessel sighting there is no other evidence of life in this part of the planet. Our daily routine includes recording specific meteorological observations and something that elevates idle conversation about the weather to an advanced level - responding to a request from the Met Office we are recording weather here because there is relatively few data for this ‘route’.


Fast forward 10 days and we have settled entirely into life aboard 'Adventure of Hornet'. With supple sea legs we now take everything aboard in our stride but are not complacent about our little world. Land legs are a distant muscle memory and my watch is well versed and ready for the race. We need not shout anymore to be heard on deck - hand signals suffice and we can anticipate most moves when changing sails. Short naps work better round the clock and suit our four-on-four-off routine.


On the morning of day 14, the onset of landfall should come as no surprise but it takes several moments for the significance of this view to sink in. From the seemingly endless blue horizons of the ocean to the browns and greens of land and the new and strange array of smells, the transition from ocean to coast is an assault on my senses. As Sydney Heads and the fairway bouy hove into view through the mirky dawn, all 17 of the ship’s company gather on deck to witness our approach. The mood is upbeat and we nod at each other, acknowledging the 2000nm experience that has just happened.  We are 10nm off and there is the transit through Sydney harbour still to go before we come alongside at the Royal Australian Navy’s facility at Garden Island, next but one bay to the opera house. The last few miles are a busy time dropping and stowing sails, preparing lines for arrival and taking in all the signs of life ashore. As the miles become yards we are greeted with the sight of several 100ft ‘speedbirds’ out on their training runs. We will see these sleek racing yachts again when, on Boxing Day, we join them and over 100 other yachts, jostling for the optimum course across the start line and our next leg, the Rolex Sydney Hobart yacht race.


The Sydney Hobart race village at Sydney’s Rushcutter’s Bay is alive with all manner of yachts. We see crews ‘hunting in packs’, bonded by branded clothing and their group dynamics. We are no different and there is an air of waiting, expectation and impatience. Christmas day comes and goes with the mandatory barbecue, dip in the harbour and general sun lounging before an early finish and horizontal ponder as we each mentally prepare for tomorrow.


It is the morning of the race and Steve the skipper leaves for a final race briefing while the rest of us busy ourselves nervously with final preparations. Breakfast is entirely functional - my appetite having disappeared since waking hours ago. Andy checks the charts and route; Mark checks stowage and sail plan; Helen and I discuss watch tactics with our respective watches. Before I know it we are milling about on the water looking for the start line and the race course out of the harbour. To any non-sailor watching, the 100 plus yachts mustering in the start area must look like total chaos. We each have specific jobs for the start line and mine is port-hand lookout, trying to anticipate potential collisions. I misjudge the proximity of a yacht crossing our bows, thinking it is far closer - we are among a group of jostling boats with virtually no room to manoeuvre. Steve is on the wheel and has seen it too. He judges the course, angles and speed perfectly - leaving enough room for a cigarette paper between us and the yacht crossing our bows - this is not even the start! When the start comes, it is an amazing blur of hulls, colourful sails and excited crews all within touching or shouting distance of each other. We are finally off but have to claw our way out of the harbour, tacking across the wind to make progress before we turn South towards Tasmania. Our sister ship, Discoverer, is ahead and we have 5 or so days to turn this situation around if we are to beat her over the line or on corrected time. Later on as we sail downwind as fast as we dare there is a sudden shout - 'all hands on deck'! The huge spinnaker sail has failed - ripping itself free from its reinforced edges. We all help to wrestle the giant monster below and start thinking about every possible way to keep the speed on so we can overtake Discoverer. The next four days are spent focusing on trimming, course and overhauling our nemesis. The turning point, literally and figuratively (as the slower of the two boats) is Cape Pillar, the iconic waypoint at the Southeast corner of Tasmania, where the fleet turns northwestwards up the Derwent River. It is the middle of the night and Hobart is tantalisingly close (at least on the chart). The wind has all but disappeared and we are in silent mode, ghosting along trying to find pockets of wind. Discoverer goes wide in the outer estuary and we take her after an intense three hour stint behind the wheel. She takes us and we are back to square one again. It is the classic cat and mouse scenario as we change places until she manages to break free with a better course. This is not how I saw the Sydney Hobart race finish. Our top speed in the river has been about 4.5knots and the finish line just doesn't seem to get any nearer. We go wide in the final stages knowing that we probably won't catch Discoverer on her course. This is an utterly amazing finish - we can't get line honours but we still have a chance to take the Oggin cup for the first military vessel on corrected time. Come on Adventurer, come on! The entire crew is on deck, on the rail and as we track across the wind, the whole crew gingerly changes place from the left to the right side, balancing the boat out as we manoeuvre around the wind for the best angle. The line is one boat length away now and we can see the majority of the fleet and crews in the harbour, watching our finish on huge screens. Every second counts and we still don't know if we have done enough as the finish hooter marks the end of our race. At that precise moment I feel proud of our efforts and shared experience over the last near 3000nm odyssey. Adventure is not just a great round the world yacht and this is not just another expedition. It is the amazing people on board that made it such a rewarding experience - Steve, Mark, Andy, Helen, Steve, Adrian, Frank, Chris, Iain, Fran, Darren, Stuart, Alex, Jobbers, Harry, Tom and I. It is Hogmanay, in Hobart and tomorrow we will be awarded the Oggin cup. For now, it is 0830hrs and the bar is open........


This is just one footnote in the story of ‘Adventure of Hornet’ and its sister ship ‘Discoverer of Hornet ‘ as they reach closer to a world circumnavigation (on Ex Transglobe). For the joint services crews that man these steel-built yachts, each has their own story to tell over the 13 legs that make up the circumnavigation. For me, this is the very best that military AT can offer.

Leading Hand Andrew Fulton, HMS Scotia.

 

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