But first comes his 36,000-mile turn around the globe, which Jones estimates will take him anywhere from one to three years, "God willing, and weather and politics permitting."
On the morning of D day, while he was testing his new satellite navigation and Weatherfax gear, Jones's eyes misted at the memory of "my first dear old skipper, Tansy Lee, onboard Second Apprentice, working the North Sea—a real vicious bitch of a sea in winter. His weather forecasting equipment was a broken old barometer and a half inch of candle in a jam jar." The jar was taken to the end of the jetty, he said, "and if the wind didn't blow out the candle, we'd sail."
Then, displaying the Explorers Club flag that Admiral Byrd had flown during his supposedly "impossible" Arctic expeditions, and which the club had sent him to take along on Outward Leg, Jones gestured at his snug and splendid cabin and said, "Anything is possible, mate, if you have the will to do it."
Late that afternoon, with a promising breeze building and a fading sun tinting the sky pink, Outward Leg left her mooring and glided majestically into San Diego Bay, the red dragon flag of Wales and the burgee of the Royal Navy Sailing Association flapping smartly as onlookers cheered, cameras whirred and TV news helicopters circled overhead. Finally, as Outward Leg came about and began scudding due south, and the small fleet of escort boats started turning back, Jones braced himself in the cockpit, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "God bless America!"