After a solid ten-hour flight, I landed in Cape Town at seven a.m. I was slightly worn out but far less jet-lagged than I had expected, since South Africa shares nearly the same time zone as Germany.

You’d imagine that taking off for a race would be a dramatic, cinematic event — ropes flying, sails snapping, maybe someone shouting “Cast off!” while inspirational music swells in the background.

It is a long seafarer’s tradition that upon crossing the line (equator) all the pollywogs must undergo a ceremony presided over by King Neptune himself.

The spinnaker is the largest sail we fly in front of the boat when we’re sailing downwind in what sailors optimistically refer to as “moderate conditions.” It’s essentially a kite—if your childhood kite had the power to rearrange your facial features.

We get off to a suspiciously good start, which in sailing is usually the universe clearing its throat before doing something cruel. We spend the first hours locked in a polite but determined fistfight with Gosh, the boat that came in second in race one. It’s skippered by Olli and Otto, two young sailors who look like they were born knowing which way the wind would turn next Tuesday.

The Take-Off this afternoon at 15:00 local time (13:00 UTC) will be screened online by Clipper Race @

Just a couple of pictures from the last days.

A more elaborate version follows later today.

Oli, Zoe and I making donuts and splicing safety strops.

We set off from Portsmouth with all the optimism of a family at Disney World, ready to conquer whatever the sea might throw at us. For a while, we were doing okay,…

With my friends Madlon und Gerold

Meeting part of the crew and sailing on the actual boat with my skipper and first mate.

Kite, letterbox, bear-hugging, wooling—they might sound like moves from an interpretive dance routine or items on a very niche scavenger hunt, but in sailing, they all share a common denominator: the spinnaker

Crew Allocation - Very Exciting

Happy is Fast

Stepping on the 68s for the first time