As the Ice Gates have been moved up, the initial theoretical distance for this Vendée Globe of 24,275 miles has been extended by 450 miles. That is why the distances to the finish have been modified this morning, as the East Pacific Gate is the final one the solo sailors will pass: the Great Circle Route is now around 24,725 miles…
 

"I am now the only one of the three in my area who has not been knocked down yet in the hideous conditions that we have.  I am anticipating it…..  but praying that I can avoid it.  As the breeze picked up yesterday, after about 3 hours of ok sailing, I dropped the main again, lashed the boom and carried on under staysail only.  I checked that the headsails still plugged in on the bow were furled as well as possible, with their furling lines tight and locked off, and I removed every line from the cockpit floor and stowed them in bags so they couldn’t get washed away.  I removed the stb steering foot chock and MOB lifebelt from the transom and stowed them below.  As  I was finishing this I looked out of the back of the boat at the most enormous pair of waves, towering about 30 feet over the back of my little boat – they were coming from opposite directions and smashed into one another with such force – breaking high and loud and violently.  with this I went below and closed both hatches tight, filled the aft ballast and looked at my options.  After about 1 second I realised that I had zero options other than ride out the next 24 hours and try and get through with minimal damage. I set about lashing anything I could find down below that could move, I stowed all the loose gear that was possible, and set my bean bag and nav station on the leeward side, so if I did get rolled I would have less far to fall.  The breeze built, but more importantly so did the sea state.  Every now and again we get on a wave and hit 20-25 knots, totally out of control, before we plummet headlong and at pace into the wave in front. At this point the boat stops and tonnes of water engulf the boat – slowly she manages to shake the water off and get going again, but how many times will she manage?  It has been relentless for us back here, and I am sick and tired of living in fear of the next wave, the next pooping or a knockdown.  Reading of Dereks plight last night does not help, and I hope he is ok.  Rich also had a couple of knockdowns during the night, so am I existing on borrowed time?  This is most certainly the most extreme, most difficult, most frightening period of sailing I have ever undertaken, and I shall be overjoyed when it is over…  I am ok, just fed up and worried.  I have done all I can to be safe, so must now be patient and hope…"
Jonny Malbon (Artemis II) in his daily message
 

"I dropped the aluminium anchor and 15 m of chain and 15m of polypro cable. Once anchored, I climbed the mast and 20 minutes later, a huge disappointment to discover that what I had prepared wasn't going to work as the damage was much worse above and below. I think the mainsail must have unhooked and pulled off the track and titanium section. I came back down. It was dark and raining. Extremely disappointed, I thought about setting off again, even though that meant I would only be able to sail with three reefs in. After talking it over, I changed my mind. An hour and a half to prepare the section of track measuring around 50 cm, a quick meal and a short nap until it was daylight. In the middle of the night, I heard a strange noise. I was drifting into weed. I unfurled the jib and headed south. The mooring rope was sliced through. With a few tacks I get back to my initial position. I can feel that there is weed wrapped around the keel. I anchor with the big anchor, + 15 m of chain and 10 m of a spinnaker sheet. At dawn, I am better prepared technically and psychologically, full of positive energy. Around 2h30 later, I'm satisfied. An explorer is strolling along the beach taking notes about the animals. Two worlds almost came together for a few hours, but we never got to meet. I head out of the bay with tons of weed around the keel and bulb. Over time they disappear. I enjoy that moment, setting out on a boat that will be capable of dealing with the lighter winds on the way back up the Atlantic."
Marc Guillemot (Safran) in an e-mail this morning
 

"It was just another normal day in the Southern Ocean, crisp and cold, a whitish grey light, and grey-blue sea. I looked aft, and there were two polar dolphins jumping in our wake. They've been following Roxy since last night. They are beautiful and stripy, and as far as I can see, they don't have a dorsal fin like their Atlantic cousins. There was an Albatross circling around us, and every so often he dipped towards the waves and when he climbed up again he was pedalling his feet like he was riding a bicycle! Very comic! Maybe he was just doing it to show off in front of me! At the same time, Roxy was hooning along, occasionally dipping the pole in the water and then zooming off at 23 knots down a wave, the pilot happily in control! I was just riveted to my perch on the dome, taking it all in! It's hard to do the scene justice with words, or even photos, but I couldn't stop smiling at how awesome this is and how amazingly lucky I am to be out here experiencing days like this."
Sam Davies (Roxy in her daily message
 

Derek Hatfield (Algimouss-Spirit of Canada) has suffered a massive knock-down and the top two spreaders on his mast have broken in half leaving the mast unsupported on the leeward side, the broken spreaders banging against the mast. At the time the Canadian skipper was sailing along under bare poles, when a huge wave knocked the boat on its side putting the mast in the water. Derek states that he was not injured and is going on deck to further assess the damage to the mast and come up with a plan of action.
 

Marc Guillemot and Safran left Sandy Bay off Enderby Island in the Auckland Islands at 20h30 GMT. Marc was able to carry out repairs to his mainsail track and set off less than 12 hours after dropping anchor in this sheltered bay.