DAY TWENTY-SEVEN - BRIGHTON TO SOUTHAMPTON

Finally it had arrived - the final day of our journey and the last leg - home!   The previous night in Brighton we had all thought long and hard about what we were going to face - conditions around Beachy Head had reminded us all of how tough things could get, and the forecast we had for the final day was worse, a good Force 5-6  and strengthening.  If we were going to do it, the only time to go was first thing.  We had to be away by 7.00am, so we set the alarms for 5.15am and spent a very restless night, waking at regular intervals to hear the wind howling and the masts rattling in the marina below the hotel.   We weren't home and dry yet by a long shot, and there was the doubt in everyone's minds as to whether we would be able to the leave the marina at all.  Whilst wanting to get home, we had to be careful not to make hasty decisions - the temptation of course to make a run for it come what may.  We all met on the marina in the dark, and decided that we would make our way out of the Harbour and take a look, and if conditions were just not sensible or anyone was feeling unsure we would turn around and come back.  Stowing the boats in the dark, with the wind whistling around our ears and the masts of hundreds of yachts comfortably settled into the marina dancing a jig accompanied by the ghastly music of their own clanking, I don't think I was the only one wondering if we weren't completely mad to be leaving this safe haven and heading out for what was guaranteed at the very best to be a punishing journey.  One consoling sight in the darkness was the navigation lights of a local fishing boat passing us - a ghostly outline in the dark heading determinedly out of harbour, the put-putting of its engine completely drowned out by the valkyrie scream of the wind.  It was heartening to think we weren't the only ones!
As we made our way towards the harbour entrance, I could see great plumes of spray blasting up over the sea wall from outside, and then as we rounded the corner to the sea, there was no doubt that if the tame tiger of a sea had begun growling yesterday, she had definitely had her tail pulled this morning!  Big waves were throwing themselves at the sea wall in a determined and sustained tantrum, and as the first onslaught hit us, I really wondered if this time we really hadn't taken on more than we could handle.  There was no gentle build up or time to get into the groove, it was literally off the mooring and out to do full battle.
Anthony reminded me that the waters around the harbour entrance were going to be worse than elsewhere, and after recovering from the initial shock of meeting such a combative sea in near darkness, we settled into our grim task of dealing with the test she was setting us.  The waves were a challenging mixture, with the occasional breaking wave and a good number of giants which suspended "ConTTentment" on the vertical in a heart-stopping moment before relenting and letting her go.   Helming in these conditions is physically and mentally shattering, and I was so grateful after nearly an hour of fighting for every foot of my passage home, to hand over to Charlie Fane-Trefusis and Anthony and ride it out on the back seat. 
Conditions improved only marginally, before building up again as we passed Selsey Bill, where again the shallow waters meant the seas were even more confused and the waves bigger.   The three-way rotation of helming and working on the throttle was really effective allowing us to conserve our energy and I was so grateful that we had extra pairs of hands on these last few legs, when we were already tired but conditions were as demanding as we had encountered anywhere during the trip.
We were now very much in familiar territory and I could feel the excitement mounting as the Isle of Wight came into view, and in the slightly more protected waters between the Island and the mainland we were able to finally pick up speed, as well as free up a hand for a hot drink and our well earned picnic breakfast!

We're coming home!  Heading up Southampton Water after doing battle
from Brighton

I felt the prickle of tears and a lump in my throat as we came nearer to the Itchen River, the starting point of our journey, and my only regret was that my parents whose early morning emails of support and encouragement had become a much needed daily "fix", weren't with me to share this wonderful moment of homecoming.  Jeff Bartram, a previous crewman for "Teal", had made the huge effort of launching his own RIB at Chichester early in the morning, and appeared to chaperone us in, which made a wonderful start to our welcome home.
Having broadcast our arrival time as 2.30pm, we moored up at Shamrock Quay, just around the corner from the Southampton Dry Stack, our final destination, to dry out, regroup, and sit it out until we could round the corner at the scheduled time.   Again, the tears prickled as we stepped onto the Quay, and David Bertie in a very James Bond moment produced two well shaken but miraculously unbroken bottles of champagne from his grip bag!  How on earth they survived unscathed is a miracle, and it has to be some of the best champagne I have ever tasted, albeit out of a thermos mug!  Simon's family and parents-in-law appeared, and we all retreated into the local cafe, a disparate group of dishevelled, slightly shellshocked and beaming crew and relieved family.

Popping the first cork on Shamrock Quay
Simon, David Bertie, Charlie Fane-Trefusis, Anthony and Jeff Bartram

At last it was time to make our appearance at the Dry Stack and as we crept around the corner, our full set of Around Britain flags proudly fluttering to the cheer of well-wishers on the pontoon.   I looked across at "Teal" and I could see reflected in Si's face the relief, pride and happiness of finally arriving which must have shown on our own.  He suddenly looked ten years younger,  I hope the same could be said for Anthony and I!  Jo and the boys from Southampton Dry Stack were on the pontoon ready to take our lines, a lovely welcoming gesture, and this monumental journey, which had tried and tested us all in so many ways, was ending. 

"ConTTentment" rounds the corner to home

A family reunited - a relieved looking Si makes his way towards Southampton Dry Stack

The Southampton Dry Stack boys wait to receive our lines on the pontoon - home at last!

So many emotions as we touch the pontoon at Southampton Dry Stack

Anthony does the honours on the hydraulic lift to take our steadfast friend "ConTTentment" out of the water

Tired - but happy! We've done it!

Special thanks to:
All our friends and family who made the effort to come down to Southampton and welcome us home.
Geoff Bartrum, for bringing his RIB out to welcome us home on the water.
Mark Wilkins and Jane Mermod, who brought down two cars to drive shattered (and probably fairly incoherent!) crews back to Vernham Dean.
Southampton Dry Stack for lifting the visiting boat "Teal" from the water and accommodating her last night free of charge.
All those who have followed this blog, supported our charities, worked behind the scenes on our behalf, and sent us their best wishes and encouragement which meant so much along the way.
My cousin, Kingsley Piesse, who provided us with invaluable and extremely reliable hi-tech weather routing and predictions - via Australia!
My father, who, although 12,000 miles away, travelled every nautical mile with me in my heart - my inspiration for this wonderful adventure.

Distance travelled:  101 nautical miles
Time travelling:  4 hours 25 minutes

Average speed:  13.5 knots
Total trip:  2,109.7 nautical miles