Damian Foxall, co-skipper with Jean-Pierre Dick on Paprec-Virbac in the two-handed non-stop Barcelona World Race, is getting a bit excited at the thought of the finishing line getting ever closer.

We're now more than 84 days at sea, exactly the maximum duration that we budgeted for in our fuel, food and gas supplies but thankfully in recent weeks we started preparing for a longer trip with some prudent rationing so we're not in bad shape with less than 1,000 miles to reach the Straits of Gibraltar.

Astern of us as usual, the men in black on Hugo Boss are just beyond striking distance at over 500 miles but remain a threat to us as does gear failure on our own tiring boat. But we've kept moving forward in the last week, picked up some good breeze and we've enjoyed nice and sunny conditions.

We're pretty happy with where they are right now and even our lead should be enough to deal with the inevitable slowdowns that we'll meet.

Thankfully, neither of us went for the African coast (the shorter route), which would have meant bashing upwind for the remainder of the race. As is, every wave we lift off ends with a sickening crash and is a constant worry for us as the loads on the boat and rig from this are tremendous. Overnight, we were expecting the breeze to go light again as a high pressure system rolls over our position but for the early part of this week, we're looking at fresh sou'westerlies to bring us up to Cabo San Vincent off Portugal before going light again on the approach to Gibraltar when it'll be upwind sailing again.

After that, well its fairly unpredictable. There's a chance we might get lucky and hold the breeze all or most of the way to the finish. But there's also a good chance of finding a great big parking lot in the Med that will be tricky and will end the race as it started.

Our lead will stand to us well for this scenario but compression within the fleet or at least amongst the front-runners is quite likely. But the nearer we get to the end and our gap ahead of Hugo Boss remains the same, the less likely their chances of catching us and the biggest threat to our victory will be gear failure; if we lose after all we've been through we're going to be pretty disappointed.

Overall, around 1,500 miles to go and we should be finished at Barcelona by the 11th and getting excited is tempting but might be a waste of energy - we have food but its thin on the ground and while we'll last, it won't be by much and it certainly won't be three-course lunches either.

On a race like this, the nice food gets eaten first and the second choices slip further back down the bags until they're all that's left. I'm pretty sick of freeze-dried rice pudding with apple and cinnamon and if I never eat it again it will be no bad thing.

But to have no snacks left and coming off watch to grab a quick meal of nuts or biscuits or something isn't on and instead the drudgery of boiling up water, soaking the freeze-fried food and then cooking it is soul-destroying when you're exhausted after being on watch for four hours and gasping for sleep.

Astern of us, Alex (Thompson) and (Andrew) Capey were able to fully re-provision Hugo Boss during their pitstop in Wellington. Fine for them but we wouldn't trade with them - snacks and DVD movies are for pussies and we don't need it. Well, except for maybe the Mars bars.

These I miss, a lot. JP managed to keep his stores going till last week when he had his last Mars. It must have been my puppy-eyed, longing look as he unwrapped it that made him share which is a great sign that we're still getting on well after three months at sea. The alternative, winch-handles at dawn is unthinkable.

The thought of finishing the race is starting to loom large. After last week's bout of hygiene, we've become aware of just how smelly the boat is down below with just two of us living in such a cramped space. For me, my major decision is whether or not to shave. Just shaving stubble is easy enough but the full beard is going to be a right pain in the ass. I know Suzy-Ann won't mind and I hope it won't scare Oisín but right now I'm resisting.

Still, three months at sea is definitely showing in other areas as well. I'm not quite sure how but one line of a song has somehow lodged itself inside my head and for the last two weeks seems to appear around about the first hour of my watch. Every night, regular as clockwork, Dolly Parton blares into my mind with One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus

In conversation with David Branigan branigan-at-indigo.ie