So here I am on Bridgestone F1. Gormless. Wide-eyed. For a crew of professionals, three of whom have just sailed around the world, the turkey has landed.

For someone who has never sailed before, this has quickly become a life style of wet clothes and a stomach permanently on the lurch.

A voyage where you are woken every time the boat changes direction and told to get up and switch to a position on the other side of the vessel for ballast. It's a journey of trying to maximise sleep on your four-hour shifts.

And the pounding of the sea on the hull is like next door neighbours' 12-year old kicking a football on the back of your headboard.

You can slide around like the professionals, or you can find yourself endlessly crawling around the deck, chasing for the correct side of the boat to be on.

"In big winds this maxi is like a wild horse," says Flannery, the chief of the grind man. He pumps the winches which pull in the sails. "First gear, second gear, third gear - just like riding a bike" he says.

Rolling around the The Fastnett Rock, glaring across at our racing enemy Jeep Cherokee, we pass a basking shark and a pod of razorbills, whirring across The Atlantic like clockwork toys. It's the Cork Dry Gin Around Ireland Race and already you are asking yourself - what on earth are you doing here.