Growing up in Hampshire meant that I and many of my friends regularly visited Portsmouth, and more particularly HMS Victory, as part of school trips and weekends away. It is a city that I have continued to visit often, either to catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight (where I have spent much time in Cowes) or to get on a boat - but leaving London through the rush-hour traffic on a Friday night in spring, I am headed to the other side of Portsmouth Harbour, Gosport.

Gosport is the neglected side of the river polarised by the sight of millions of pounds worth of yachts against a background of high rise flats. It is obvious that this was once a thriving maritime centre and was an important naval supply base, with ships' anchors, cables, powder magazines, chains, and sails, as well as food supplies, being produced in the town. Priddy's Hard, established in 1770 as a powder magazine, became the Royal Navy's principal armaments depot and it continued to supply the navy until the 1990s, but is now scheduled to become a museum and leisure centre. Gosport naval base was also one of the main D-Day embarkation points for troops in 1944 on their way over to France and the liberation of Europe.

The town centre is surrounded by fortifications developed in the 19th century, and its historic buildings include the 19th-century sea-defences of Fort Brockhurst. As the Ministry of Defence cut back its operations in the late 1990s some associated industries have closed, but high-tech computing companies have taken over in significance, and the waterfront areas are being redeveloped.

My arrival in large maritime ports always fills me with a little apprehension. The reason for this is largely due to the fact that, by the nature of a port, there is a transient population who are not always welcomed by those who live there permanently – that age old friction between ‘the locals’ and outsiders. As such I maintain a cautious approach when going somewhere like Aqaba, Genoa, Cherbourg and even Gosport - particularly with a London number plate on my car. This means displaying a confidence that I know where I am going at all times and not asking for directions but unlike going into a town to find a hotel or B&B, finding a marina or the berth of a boat is not easy. The semi-industrious nature of a working port provides few clues to find a berthed boat but taking a bearing from Portsmouth’s iconic Spinnaker Tower, I manage to find the boat yard and then use the sound of ropes clinking at the top of masts to find the boats.

Our boat for the Fastnet race is named Prime Evil. A Sigma 400, she is about 40 feet long and draws 2.3m on the keel (the bit under water). An 8 berth yacht, Prime Evil has 4 proper single bunks (no cuddling up to a stranger!) and additional 2 good single bunks when the aft cabin is divided in two by the lee cloth. There are also 2 heads (toilets) with showers on board. This means there is plenty of room and as we will have a crew of 10, we will need it. Having this number means that we can have two shifts: one on watch with the other resting either on deck or down below. The downside is that there are ten people who need to eat and drink, keep warm and general occupied when not on watch. That is when cabin fever can set in as we are effectively trapped on board with little to do. Such has been the case for sailors for hundreds of years. In ships of the past the captain would allow the crew to "skylark" on board for some special occasion but for the most part there was little for them to do but "shoot the breeze." We can only imagine what sailors of yore got up to but last August a journal of George Hodge, a lowly sailor, whose rank is unknown, went for auction in America. Its real worth lay in describing ‘below decks’ in the British Navy between 1790 and 1833 – at the time of Admiral Nelson. Hodge recorded details of the ladies of leisure with whom he associated, and painted pictures of ships and flags as well as a self portrait. Images of ordinary seamen from the time of Nelson's Navy are rare. The self-educated seaman, who spelt words as they sound, began the journal: George Hodge his Book Consisting of Difrint ports & ships that I have sailed in since the year 1790. Aged 13 years.

For the most part, when they were not sailing, the seamen had to help maintain the ship. The rigging had to be repaired, and the masts had to be oiled. The flax sails also had to be repaired and maintained. Every ship, no matter how well built, still took on water, so the ship had to be pumped every day. And, at least once a year, the ship was re-caulked, tarred and painted.

While it is not necessary for us to undertake such basic maintenance on the boat we do have to undertake tasks such as changing and folding sails. Principally an easy task on land but once on the sea, and particularly in heavy swell, this becomes more difficult because of the pitch and roll of the boat, the ability to maintain our balance and the lack of space on the foredeck.

In a triangular sail, the upper point is known as the head, and the halyard (the rope which raises the sail) is attached to the head. The lower two corners of the sail, on either end of the foot (the bottom edge of the sail), are called the tack (forward) or clew (aft). The tack is shackled to a fixed point on the boat, such as the gooseneck or the deck at the base of a stay, in the case of a jib or staysail.

Each sail must be equally folded with the tack maintaining the leading edge with the head of the sail. As most sails are not perpendicular, this means folding the sail so that the clew end is headed towards the foot – which should always be folded in line with it. This has to be done so that the sails are stored in a way that won’t damage them and also so that they can be retrieved and hoisted again as necessary.

Practising these skills takes time and in order not to cut into our time on the water, we emerge from our bunks at 6:30am carrying four bags of sails on to the shore to practise our folding skills. In total there will be ten crew for the Fastnet race but today there are nine of us on board. John, the skipper, his wife Helen, Chris, a veteran of the Seahorse Sailing Club on the Welsh Harp, who I have sailed with many times before, Phillip, Mark, Julian (a sailing instructor who is helping today) Dominic – a Finchley boy who has moved to Bedfordshire and Gillian, who is taking part in the Clipper Round the World Race in September. As Dominic, Chris, Julian and I fold sails, the others go through a safety brief on the boat before we exchange roles. After we have completed that and had a cup of tea, we start to prepare the boat to take it out for the first time onto the Solent.