Over the past 24 hours, Michel Desjoyeaux (Foncia) currently in the lead, 9957.2 miles from the finish, sailed the greatest distance towards the finish. Between 19h yesterday and this evening, he covered 361.2 miles

That is the final distance in miles for this sixth edition of the Vendée Globe following the decision to move the final Ice Gate further north.
 

At 8h30 local time, 23h30 GMT after sailing for just over ten days following damage to his keel head, Dominique Wavre (Temenos II) entered the harbour in Fremantle during the night with the help of some members from the Ecover and Gitana 80 teams. "I am relieved and proud to have managed to sail Temenos II here. We're a team and I really did all I could to take care of her, so I'm pleased to have arrived. Of course, it hurts giving up the Vendée Globe, and there will always be a degree of frustration, as the race goes on, and I'm looking ahead to the next one, but for the moment, it's a relief just to be here. We hope to put Temenos II on board a container ship in mid-January. The boat is due to arrive in Europe a month or so later. We will then get together with the designers, engineers and experts, to try to understand how and why the keel broke. It seems that Mike had a similar problem. We talked about it when I arrived this morning and we'll be working together to find a solution. In any case, we're going to have to find the means to be able to set sail again with a keel that we can totally rely on. We cannot make any concessions in this area, as the safety of the competitors depends on it.»
 

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