A Race Against Time: Hilary Lister's Round Britain Dream

Hilary Lister is quadriplegic.

She's paralysed from the neck down.

Just imagine being wrapped up like a mummy,

so that you can't use your arms and legs,

and all that's free is your head,

and you have to sail a boat,

unable to move.

How remarkable is that?

It's freedom.

It's me alive.

It's just one wave at a time, really.

Where are the wind's coming from?

Are my sails set right?

I'm talking about being independent in my life,

and that's something that is new, completely new.

In her greatest challenge yet,

she is sailing around the coast of Britain,

a journey of 3,000 miles.

But will the elements be for or against her?

Ready for this?

It's 3am.

Hilary's around-Britain journey starts from her home in Kent.

Do you want me to come down with you?

We should be all right, I think.

-OK.

-Follow the convoy.

From Dover, she will travel over land the 300 miles to Plymouth,

where her voyage will start.

Hilary is continuing on

from her first attempt to sail around Britain.

In 2008, she got as far as Newlyn in Cornwall,

before bad weather beat her.

Round Britain is a huge challenge,

it's a big enough challenge for someone able-bodied,

in a full-sized yacht.

To do it with Hilary's level of disability,

I think of it rather like Chichester going round the globe

for the first time.

Do we need...

Hilary's disease has progressed to the point

where her head is the only part of her body she can move.

My arm's going to go. Just let it go.

As a result of this syndrome, the muscles, the skin, and the bones

all have chronic changes,

which ultimately leads to a functionless limb,

a paralysed limb where the muscles waste away, the skin changes,

and in some severe cases, the limb needs to be amputated.

It's one of the most horrific things

that you could imagine happening to anybody.

How could anybody imagine what it's like to suffer intense,

intractable pain, constantly, every waking moment of your life?

She's lived with this condition for more than half of her life.

If she doesn't do it now,

she might not be able to do it next week, let alone, next year.

It takes seven people for Hilary to go solo sailing.

One of them is Hilary, the rest are the support crew.

Each team member has been hand-picked by Hilary.

Toby...

Huw...

and Simon who crew the rescue boat.

Her carer, Jo,

Terry, the cook and driver...

What am I doing?

..and Paul, the team organiser.

I don't understand why it's easy, really easy,

to move a boat in water, and yet I have to keep moving it

in this Landrover.

Um, just to make sure you've spotted us,

we are off your starboard bow, over.

The danger is Hilary is physically very vulnerable.

We've done what we can,

to mitigate that, but you can never take it away.

So, were Hilary to go in the water,

we've practised getting her out of the water,

but there's no guarantee that we would be able to do that.

My project manager is worried that I'm going to choke

and die on the water.

That's his biggest fear.

-(RADIO)

-'Inshore waters forecast issued by the Met Office...

'The outlook for the following 24 hours...'

I have a negative role in this project.

She assumes that she's going to go sailing and I say, "No."

I think it would not be a safe idea to sail today.

I thought that it would be a no.

Hilary is petite, blond and vulnerable.

You can ask her, "How are you feeling?"

and she'll always say, "OK."

You have to start guessing at what she's really feeling.

Try to read the signs.

I pass out at home, on my own,

on the sofa,

twice a day.

If it's going to happen anywhere,

I hope I'm not sitting on the sofa thinking, I wish I'd tried this.

It's not about proving I'm better than anyone else,

it's just about proving it's possible. This is my dream.

She's a bit mad. Erm, it's got to be said!

-Mwah, have a good trip.

-See you later.

-Have fun.

-I'm missing you already.

-Missing you more.

-Don't drop me.

Don't say that!

The first time she was going out, there she was getting all like,

"I want to go, I want to go",

and getting all sort of stressed about it, and, um,

when she came back, that's right, when she came back,

she just had this massive grin on her face and I was like,

"Oh, that's what it's all about!"

When Hilary was first introduced to sailing,

she'd already been paralysed for ten years.

A friend took me out on a lake, in a garden chair,

strapped to the middle of a wayfarer,

with a plank under my legs and another plank down my back

and some duct tape round my head, to hold it in place,

and I'd been on the water 30 seconds.

I just fell in love, it's that simple.

Me Too, Me Too, you're just approaching the sand bar now, over.

When I see Hilary about to sail, or when she's sailed,

the difference in her, from that, from her normal, day-to-day life,

it's just amazing to see how excited she is

when she's about to get on the water, or when she's on the water,

and that does it for me.

Hilary is the sort of person that

once you meet her, you get drawn into her little world.

A little bit quicker on the safety.

I've never met anybody quite like her.

She's fascinating, she's determined, she's driven,

and I thought, yeah, I'd really like to be a part of that.

And it's turning out to be an adventure.

I've never known anybody,

in my entire life,

that has passed out and gasped for oxygen

and then apologised for it afterwards.

Plymouth, May 21st.

At 4:30am, Hilary sets out on the first leg of her journey.

In the 12 months since her previous round-Britain attempt,

her health has deteriorated further.

I've run down over the winter.

The disease seems to come in sudden crashes,

then I bounce back a bit.

Sub, sub... Just in the middle of systems check. Out.

Hilary's ability to sail is utterly dependent on technology.

In front of me, I've got a map, a chart,

which tells me where the boat is, where I've been, where I'm going.

It tells me how deep the water is, all that sort of stuff,

what I need to avoid.

And I've also got an electronic compass,

and both of those are operated by, um, these three straws here,

really, and by a series of motors.

So, if I want to go to port, which is left,

I just puff on this straw,

And if I want to go to starboard, which is right,

I'll go...

and suck on the same straw.

This straw here, this works the winches,

so I can puff to let the sails out...

..and sip to pull them in. Easy!

And then this one is a kind of a menu system.

I can do things like blow once,

to change the angle of the head sail to the main,

I can blow again...

..I can lift the boom up and down,

I can even go into auto-pilot,

so I can get something to eat, and generally relax.

-This is it, then.

-This is it.

-Right, it's loose, the springs.

We're off. At last.

Hilary is one of four children.

As she grew up,

there were no signs of the disease that would take over her life.

She was an active girl and had a strong interest in music.

At school, she was captain of the netball and hockey teams.

But by the age of 15, she was unable to walk.

It's been heart-breaking, watching this illness take hold of her,

and wonderful that she can do what she's doing now.

(RADIO) 'Sub, sub, sub... this is Me Too, Me Too, over.'

She was a very interesting child. Very determined.

We were quite hard-up at the time, and I just had three eggs,

and I wanted to put two in a cake, and to keep one for something else.

So she was standing by the side of me,

helping make the cake and she got the book,

and she could just recognise the numbers, you know, so I said,

"Right, Hilary, we're making this cake, and these are the ingredients,"

and I said, "Here are the eggs," and she said,

"It says three eggs here, mummy", and I said, "I know,

"but we're going to put two in

"because I want the third one for tea," so she said,

"But, mummy, it says three eggs" and I said, "Well, Hilary,

"take it from me, we're only going to put two in."

Then somebody rang the door bell so I went to the door,

when I came back, she said, "I've put in three, mummy",

so she was very determined!

She went on to Oxford, where she studied biochemistry.

She took her finals flat on her back on a morphine drip,

and was awarded an upper-second degree.

# Panis angelicus... #

Her husband, Clifford, is a singing teacher.

# Panis habenum... #

Hilary played the clarinet, and they met through music.

They remained friends for many years and were married in 1999.

I didn't know her when she could walk.

I fell in love with her when she was paraplegic,

and she was full of zest and life and ambition, and, actually,

the wheelchair seemed to have relatively little significance.

Hilary's illness may not have seemed important to Clifford,

but as it spread, it eventually stopped her playing the clarinet.

That is the only thing, almost, I curse and swear about,

is the fact I can't pick up my clarinet...

..and just let it all out.

When I got mad, that's where I went,

and when I was happy, it's where I went as well.

I miss it terribly.

I can't listen

to clarinet music, still.

May 24th,

and Hilary reaches Newlyn,

cold, tired, but in good spirits.

Bloody hell, I weigh a lot more after a sail!

Weird forms of sea life we have seen today.

Porpoises, a turtle, loads and loads of little, tiny, weeny polyps.

I don't know what they are but there are tens of thousands of them,

just in there, everywhere.

Something is spawning, but I don't know what.

Anyway, right, it's cold,

it's two in the morning or something. And let's go to bed!

Casting off? Bye!

I had a big mental block about Lands End.

I viewed it as a very difficult sail, approached it very cautiously.

We actually got round Lands End quite nicely.

We got the push of the tide, up to as far as Newquay.

The journey continues to go well.

On June 1st, Hilary arrives at Bude,

where she's met by the Mayor as well as the local Lions Club.

Keep going. Keep smiling.

-You've finally found...

-Can we get the dog to smile, as well?

She's obviously making absolutely the most that she could

possibly make out of her life, but it must be a terrible

existence for anybody to live within those confines.

Sometimes, the pain's bad, the breathing's bad,

it's about counting to ten.

OK, we did that, you can count to ten again, you know,

that's two tens I've made it through, the next ten might be better.

I pray for good days on the water, a day at a time.

There's no point thinking, "What if?"

Because I may never have got in a sailing boat without my disability.

On June 2nd, Hilary sets out across the Bristol Channel for Wales.

We're off to Milford Haven, some 65, 66 miles.

It's a long way.

It's, I think, our longest sail, so I'm just praying we get some wind.

This is one of the longest legs of her journey,

and things start badly.

As she leaves the harbour, she hits a sandbank.

It's a pretty big jolt.

Feels like you're losing half your boat.

Toby jumped on, pulled the keel up, the boys did a great job.

We then spent 20 minutes sailing up and down in front of Bude,

just to make sure everything was OK.

After the difficult start, Hilary finally makes it out to sea.

The weather turns against her.

The wind got weaker and weaker

and then died about seven miles off Lundy.

So, we ended up having to tow me across the Bristol Channel,

which was infuriating.

As they approach Milford Haven, the traffic gets busy.

Compared to the Arte, even the smallest boats

look like floating cities.

With no wind, there's little choice but to tow her into harbour.

We ended up at Pembroke Dock, which was not ideal,

because there was no water

and no power, and no showers, for me, anyway.

Waiting for her is Lottie.

When Hilary's at home, Lottie plays a vital role in keeping her alive.

Lottie's pretty good at licking my face and bringing me round.

It's not really what you want, a Labrador all over you,

but it kind of works.

Lottie likes to get in on the act whenever she can.

So, Hilary, we're in Pembrokeshire, where are you going to next?

Lottie, will you stop it? We'll do that again.

Hello, Lottie dog. Fancy seeing you here at lunch time.

Lottie.

Lottie.

Lottie.

Right, Lands End to St David's Head,

variable two or three becoming northerly or north-westerly.

As the journey continues, the weather changes dramatically.

Occasionally six in far-west for a time.

That's quite worrying, because there's no shelter at all.

I'm kind of uneasy.

As darkness falls, the wind picks up,

and all Hilary's control systems fail.

Radio communication is difficult,

but she manages to contact the coastguard for help.

Eventually, a lifeboat arrives.

Using a ferry as a windbreak, the team re-group.

Hilary is towed into harbour before being transferred

to the inshore lifeboat and carried ashore.

There's an ambulance on stand-by because we're a little concerned

that Hilary's got very wet and cold today in difficult conditions.

Hilary is given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

We didn't know where Hilary was or what was going on,

and the look of the faces

of the people in the lifeboat station worried me.

I made a really fundamental error.

That's all there is to it.

We got, uh, just short of Stumble Point,

uh, and the tide turned, we lost the jib.

Hilary called it, she called for a tow.

Hilary was in danger, so Huw had jumped aboard from Hilary's

rescue boat to try and help, risking his own life.

I was standing behind watching you because

what I was thinking is, "No comms, you fall off..."

I know.

"..goodbye you."

It was scary.

By the time they'd reached the harbour,

both Huw and Hilary had been wet and cold for hours.

I was fairly far gone with the cold.

Hilary must have been the same but she can't really feel the cold,

so I was just using me as a guide for how cold she must be.

CHEERING

After resting up for a week,

on June 13th, Hilary sets out across the Irish Sea for Arklow.

It's a journey no severely disabled sailor has ever made before.

Altogether, Hilary will call into five harbours in Ireland.

It's the longest leg of the journey, but the weather is

with her and she reaches Arklow four hours ahead of schedule.

The local Lions Club pipe her in.

By now, Hilary has been at sea for 24 days,

and travelled 500 miles.

Waiting for her is her mother, like Hilary, a biochemist.

I had to get here, before you had to go.

I was so worried that you wouldn't.

I had to get here.

She won't stop.

The only thing that will stop her will be the weather,

something wrong with the boat, or, um, if they run out of money.

I think she'll make it, or she'll die in the attempt.

But I'd rather she had a shorter life and actually had these

experiences, than sat cosseted somewhere and lived to be 100.

At Wicklow, the local sailing club holds an impromptu concert

to raise funds for Hilary's trust.

But Hilary isn't there. She collapsed that afternoon.

-What's your name? Can you hear me?

-Hilary Lister.

Hilary Lister.

She's a C3 quadriplegic.

She has a chest infection.

We believe she has food, possibly a peanut, in her lungs.

Her gag reflex.

Can you hear us, Hilary?

She has in place a "Do not resuscitate."

Does she?

-Her specific request is no cardio vascular.

-OK.

Are you a relation or a friend, or something like that?

I am her partner and I have a power of attorney.

Hilary made her decision not to be resuscitated four years earlier,

shared with her husband, Clifford, and her surgeon, Chris Chandler.

I would like a "Do not resuscitate," please.

-OK.

-Thank you.

What...if what happens?

If I stop breathing, it's just my body saying, "Had enough, mate."

She doesn't want the emergency surgery, that sort of thing.

She has lived with this more than half of her life,

and her opinion is that if her body decides it's time to stop,

then it's time to stop.

I'd just like to welcome everyone here tonight

to our fundraising event for Hilary Lister.

Unfortunately, Hilary has been taken ill and is in hospital.

We're informed that the ambulance driver was happy with her condition

when she arrived, so we're fingers crossed all will be well with her.

APPLAUSE

I don't know how much my body can take,

but what I do know is I'm not going to let it beat me without a fight.

RADIO: The Morning Show on East Coast FM, with Declan Meehan.

# East Coast FM! #

'English sailor Hilary Lister has stopped off at Wicklow on her

'solo voyage around Britain and Ireland.'

Hilary has pneumonia, but she is discharged from hospital.

'Now, Hilary is not too well at the moment,

'and she'll be with us a few days before she sets off to Howth,

'and we want to wish her all the very best.'

# East Coast FM! #

Two weeks and three sails later, the local GP comes to check on her.

Right, well, you're a bit of a complicated case.

But without a fresh X-ray to compare with,

he is unsure how effective her treatment in hospital has been.

It's very hard to be absolutely 100% sure as to how you've responded.

Prepping up the pills for the day's sail.

Four bottles - breakfast, lunch, tea and night-time.

Every day, her carer, Jo, prepares a vast array of drugs that help

to control the continuous,

excruciating pain that is the reality of Hilary's life.

She takes an enormous quantity of morphine

and all these other drugs,

and sometimes she has felt depressed,

but I didn't actually know that she was depressed

until I think I read it on a doctor's report.

Because she doesn't want me always to know how low she's feeling.

There have been times where she would gladly have taken too

many tablets and not woken up.'

People come in and say, "Oh, isn't it lovely?

"You're so lucky to live in such a nice place." But, actually, when

you're stuck in that place and can't move until the next carer comes,

you are a prisoner, in however beautiful a place it is.

And she has felt, because she can't overdose

and therefore commit suicide, that she's a real prisoner.

So, I stockpiled some morphine and sleeping pills,

and a mixture of muscle relaxants, things I knew would help.

And I...

..got ready to say goodbye to people.

Hilary's illness has brought her close to death

on more than one occasion.

I've had that feeling where you start to leave your body, your brain

is shutting down, all panic goes, and if you're aware of anything,

you're aware of the fact that you're no longer attached to your body.

I had a close call in college and, erm...

..I entered this place that was dark,

but also the brightest dark I could imagine.

And I felt...surrounded.

Well, I would describe it as God, by God, completely in love.

You know, it was safe and warm, and...

..it was the right place to be.

I guess that sailing came along just in time, really.

Having the wind, and spray from the waves, and generally living

the life I would have chosen to live, had I not been quadriplegic.

Her husband, Clifford, supports Hilary's new-found love of sailing.

I've got to the stage in life where I think she deserves this chance.

She would be so unhappy if she couldn't sail,

and she's had enough misery in her life.

Anything to do with sailing, I say, "Go and do it, you must do it."

Why should I clip her wings?

My life has gone off on a tangent

neither of us could have foreseen, and...

..sailing has taken over.

I don't have my music now, and, so...

..I have to have something else.

And it's incredibly important and he understands that,

and that makes him a remarkable man.

There are now two men vital to Hilary's life -

her husband, Clifford, and project leader, Toby May.

What does he feel for Hilary?

I can't answer that question.

-Hold your course.

-Hold the course for the moment.

Don't get too far ahead of her.

I love him very much, and I fear for him, because actually

waking up with someone who has died in the night, or worse,

died on the water, is horrific.

But the alternative is to let me rot.

Each time the team sets sail, Toby carries a huge responsibility.

He always blames himself first.

But any of my friends, my team, any of my family,

would feel that they hadn't done enough,

or they should've stopped me.

But the reality is, they can't.

It's my life.

We will always be good friends.

I do not feel any animosity,

any jealousy in what's happening at the moment,

because I couldn't provide that for her.

Being in love as a quadriplegic does have its problems, though.

Not being able to hold somebody,

when they're holding you,

that's a hard thing.

Not being able...

..to physically feel them holding you is not a problem,

because you get... The heart feels it.

But not to be able to give it back is what's hard.

Not being able to respond to somebody's embrace is very hard.

She has only, I think, one tiny place on her cheek where

she has any feeling, and that's very hard.

Her whole life is... It's just full of pain.

As they go into Howth, once again Hilary becomes ill,

creating a dilemma for Toby.

I don't want to stop you sailing,

but I think your recovery time and your fitness...

is starting to prey on my mind.

But so far, you've not even had to give me two, three breaths.

If you get another infection in your lungs, we've got a whole scenario

again, and it's going to be at least as bad, if not worse, next time.

Gosh, you're an optimist.

No, I'm a realist. You're not...

-It's a progressive disease.

-I know.

-It's not going to get better.

But you know that...

..I can be ill and bounce back.

That's how it works. I get ill and I bounce back.

Hmm, but you're noticeably slower bouncing back now.

Ardglass to Portpatrick, which shows, cos it's a sensible distance.

Despite Hilary's deteriorating health,

she prepares to cross the Irish Sea to Scotland.

We are... You are here.

Problem is, you'll get wet, and your endurance,

-your ability to actually do the sail, will disappear.

-Mm.

Nothing is going Hilary's way.

In Scotland, the weather gets worse.

Then, as they sail up to Troon, there are yet more problems.

The engine of the rescue boat essential to Hilary's safety breaks down.

And it will cost some £8,000 to repair or replace.

How big a job is it to take the engine out of the boat?

The boat doesn't necessarily have to come out of the water to take the engine out.

-Just need a hoist to get her out. It's half a ton, isn't it?

-Yeah.

But Hilary has not been consulted throughout the discussions.

Thanks for involving me.

-Sorry.

-My rig, my project, my money.

My work for two years.

-At least involve me.

-OK.

I'll try and get it sorted out.

You cannot take the engine out

and ship it off before you know what's wrong with it.

It's just bearings. We can fix it on-site, if necessary, ourselves.

I'm sorry. I'm trying to do my job.

I'm trying to get this sorted.

But you can't actually make a decision about anything without me.

I haven't made a decision about anything.

I'm trying to find out what we can do.

Honestly, everyone's pulling out so many stops to try

and get this done. You're being really negative.

The guys here are brilliant, they're absolutely fantastic.

They will do the job without any...

OK, well, I'll go back to my box.

-Yeah.

-OK, you guys go and carry on sorting.

I'll go and... I need to do some blogging and stuff.

-You want to talk to the chap, Toby?

-No.

-Erm, I want to talk to Hilary first.

-OK.

Do you want me to get the number off him?

-Yeah.

-Please, yeah.

-Can you give us some space, please?

Because it's been my baby for such a long time,

it's very hard to let go

and let other people make decisions.

And the hardest part, really, was that I was getting

fragments of information rather than the whole picture.

ENGINE CHUGS

Can you pass on the message that we're going to go with

the fully marinised engine?

And if you can you give me a firm price on the part exchange on our existing engine?

We'll get one sent here.

Yeah, is he going to give us any exchange for the old one?

Do you want to talk to Hilary first?

All right, let's talk to Hilary first.

Replacing the engine adds a further week's delay to the schedule.

The forecast last night was distinctly dodgy.

However, the weather never materialised,

so we are just chilling out at the beach, really,

trying to teach Lottie to swim so that she isn't

the world's most embarrassing Labrador,

and the only one that doesn't swim.

# Happy Birthday to you

# Squashed tomatoes and stew... #

They are halfway around Britain,

and it's Toby's birthday.

..cos they blow.

-Yay!

-Can you do that again, please?

I wasn't ready with the camera!

LAUGHTER

They are now as far from Dover as they ever will be.

From today, every mile will bring Hilary closer to the world

she left behind so many weeks ago.

As they navigate the Caledonian Canal,

they face the continual problem of lack of

suitable facilities for Hilary.

I was promised by the canal authority that they'd be

able to sort me some places out if I just came along on the day

that we went, but now I've been told that that's very difficult,

because of the season

and because it's so busy, which now leaves me

searching for campsites or car parks

or places by locks where we can put the vehicles,

but obviously ones that have got facilities for Hilary.

Hilary has been sailing for two months now.

She's often cold, tired, and wet.

Life as a disabled person is challenging, full stop.

Unfortunately, things like loos are not usually

designed by disabled people,

or even looked at by people

in wheelchairs once they've been designed.

Also, they're designed with every disability in mind,

which means that they'll never...

One size never fits all.

Is it wide enough to lift you round?

I think so, let's have a look.

Or would it be better to take you in backwards?

We'd thought about backwards...

For her carer, Jo, it's a continual problem.

We can't do it as we thought we were going to go in, backwards -

no, forwards.

Now we have to go in backwards, cos there's just not enough room

to manoeuvre Hilary, and us, to go into the toilet.

I've got my trousers down round my knees -

don't tell anybody -

but thankfully my sailing gear covers that.

And we don't know whether we can shut the door on this one.

We had to get Toby and Paul to carry me in,

and stick me on the loo, which is not exactly dignified.

And the doors wouldn't shut,

so the doors to the whole world

and the washing up area, were wide open.

And it meant a night with no power, no water,

no disabled showers.

LAUGHTER

As the weather worsens,

just keeping dry has become a significant problem.

We're in the middle of the Caledonian Canal.

I don't have a single bit of dry clothing

that I can wear in the boat,

so it's going to be a pretty unpleasant and soggy ride.

The weather improves, the wind picks up, but the rescue boat

falls behind and Hilary has to turn back to let them catch up.

Going head to wind!

I need more battery power.

This is one of Hilary's most exciting sails.

Do you get extra marks for catching up with the wave ahead of you?

-TOBY:

-Hilary had to go into the wind,

and she felt the full force of the wind, particularly as it gusted up.

Hang on! Tacking.

I think she felt she was close to the edge there.

The boat is where I'm me, so I'm alive. It's my place.

It's bizarre for someone who spends such a lot of time

on their own to want to be alone,

but it's a different sort of peace.

But I like the challenge.

This is about pushing the limits of what's possible,

but it's also a personal challenge,

about pushing my sailing ability forwards all the time.

As they round Scotland's most easterly point, at Peterhead,

there's a welcome respite from the difficulties of the journey.

-JO:

-Do something for the camera, don't be shy now.

LAUGHTER

You realise this'll end up in the documentary, don't you?

Boo!

But, once again, the weather turns against them.

With 14 more ports to go, as she prepares to leave Peterhead,

a storm is brewing.

Our three predictions we use a lot are all vastly different.

It's frustrating, annoying,

and we need to move.

We really need to move.

Toby, however, is not too concerned.

Well, the thunder is inshore and downwind of us,

so it's spectacular and it's worrying that there's

enough energy in the atmosphere to do that...

..but I don't think that it's going to affect us.

His prediction turns out to be wrong.

The team is caught in a storm.

Despite the atrocious weather,

Hilary completes most of the leg under sail.

But, after nine hours at sea, she is exhausted,

and is towed into Stonehaven harbour.

We sailed through some really wet weather

and some of the towing was quite bumpy.

By the time I got here, I was pretty uncomfortable.

I had to take an extra hundred mgs of morphine.

My body started to have muscle spasms, where things have got

cramped or bashed, and eventually my body started to go into shock.

To make matters worse, Hilary

has to be hauled up the steps.

PEOPLE CALL OUT

-Stonehaven.

-Long sail.

-Thank you very much.

-Cold?

-Just a bit.

-Cold and wet.

-Very wet.

So, it was a pretty horrible evening, and the worry was all

the morphine would stop my breathing,

but you can't just roll up to an A&E and say,

"I'd like some morphine, please."

They tend to think you're an addict,

especially if you're white and shivering.'

Today, I'm still in quite a lot of pain,

but I'm just maintaining it,

self-medicating, as usual.

Just taking a bit more.

If I'm a bit spaced out, that's why.

OVER RADIO: Sub, sub, sub, we are not going up the river, over.

At Arbroath, high winds stop them sailing for five days.

Hilary and Toby take a rare night off in a hotel

so that she can have a rest and a bath.

But, at two in the morning,

a fire breaks out.

Quite severe damage to the kitchen area,

and severe damage to the floor of the first floor level.

The fire alarms went off as they should,

and as soon as the manager discovered what was going on,

where the fire was, we got the residents out as quick as we could.

We knew we had a disabled lady in the hotel.

I got dressed, I got Hilary dressed quickly,

into the chair, down the corridor.

The kitchen vent was just absolutely pouring smoke.

There was a lift and I did actually open the door of the lift.

I was saying, "We can't use the lift, we can't use it".

Anyway, we opened the lift doors, smoke was pouring out.

Luckily, the lift is right by the stairs.

I said leave me here, you've got to leave me, you've got to.

The protocol is you leave someone in a wheelchair at the top

of the stairs in a fire, because carrying them down

causes danger for too many other people.

But Toby wasn't going to leave me.

Someone else who had come out of their room kindly

carried Hilary's chair down.

After her terrifying ordeal, Hilary decides she is better off at sea.

No more days off.

But the bad weather keeps her firmly in harbour.

It's strange - I find it so much harder being in camp doing nothing.

I get so tired.

I can sail for 14 hours and just feel pooped.

As I get out of the boat I'm still on an incredible high.

Two hours later, I'm dropping,

but it's just doing nothing that exhausts me.

Next day, the weather improves.

Three weeks behind schedule, Hilary is determined to push on.

You've been very good, Lottie. There.

With 11 more stops to go, the team needs to step up the pace.

We're now going to get quite tough on the guys.

We will get up, be ready to go,

and then we'll look at the weather and see if it's appropriate to go.

Ow!

We've just had too many missed opportunities,

when the forecast has been wildly wrong.

Watch the boom, Rory. Sheeting out.

Thank you very much, George.

The last third of the voyage takes Hilary back

into English coastal waters.

Part of me never wants it to finish,

because this is living.

With every mile bringing her closer to the world she left behind,

going home holds no attraction.

I don't see it,

don't look at it,

don't think about it.

Erm, I don't want to be trapped again.

Her life has moved on.

At home, she will be reunited with Clifford.

But it is Toby who will enable her to sail.

That's up to Hilary. That's her choice.

If there is a next project, then this, in effect,

carries on, in a different form, but it carries on.

The project has brought Toby and Hilary together.

None of them, Clifford included, knows what the future holds.

I haven't really got ready for her coming home yet.

I don't think there's anything one can possibly do until she's home

and we can see what sort of state she's in and how things are really.

We have an arrangement for the three of us that works,

which sounds strange, but I don't think love is like

a pie, you know, it's not limited.

There are different types of love.

Although our lives are going in different directions,

Clifford will always be part of my family.

The voyage south, in much more favourable conditions,

takes the whole of August.

Despite all the ups and downs of her journey so far,

there is one thing she's quite clear about.

I'm better being outside, being by the sea,

having a purpose.

All those things help hugely.

I deal with the pain better

because I've got stuff to do.

I'm tired physically at the end of the day,

so I sleep better,

which means I deal with the pain better the following day.

You know, I have bad days

when I'll snap at everyone and anyone.

Erm...

but there have only been a few of those.

The voyage continues on to Ramsgate

where the team prepares for the final leg to Dover.

For Hilary, this is a traumatic moment.

Erm...

..very nervous.

We've got more wind than we were expecting.

Erm, it's another sail.

Can you shove my sunnies up for me?

It's hard, it's the last one

and I don't really want to get out...

at all.

With a farewell kiss from her mother,

Hilary sets out on the last leg of her journey.

Deal is the last port Hilary will call at before the final sail

to Dover.

The Lions Club is there to greet her,

just as they have been throughout the voyage.

So, too, is a local band.

Ending this scares me.

It's been my sole purpose for four years,

and it ending is something

that will change my life.

The return to Dover is triumphant.

Hilary has been at sea more than 100 days.

Six times she's collapsed and been taken to hospital.

Six times she's fought on.

There is a magnificence that supersedes all the pain

and the grief

and there's a glory there, really, and, I mean,

the disease takes its inevitable course

but the glory, that's the human hope, isn't it?

To be able to overcome things that you can't control.

Whatever the future may hold,

this voyage has been a triumph.

Hilary has sailed 3,000 miles, solo.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

As always, there is the usual round of press interviews.

OK, Hilary, tell me, first of all, congratulations...

A few hours of interest and then the media will move on.

I'll be able to get a job that pays me money.

Hilary's husband Clifford is there to welcome her home.

Because I needed to go out and earn a living,

I didn't have the time to devote to enabling her to be free.

This team of people are all striving

with this enormous challenge.

They are her escape.

And that's fantastic because I couldn't ever have been.

I'm living a life that's worth something,

and, er, even if it's only worth something to me,

that's a very selfish thing,

but being on the sea is something we have to do.

I think many sailors are selfish.

You know, we all leave our families and go away

and expect them just to deal with it,

and that is the most generous gift, really.

He works on that I'll always come back.

Hilary may be coming home for now,

but already she's planning her next project.

She wants to share the sip and puff technology

to benefit other disabled sailors.

She also wants a bigger boat to take longer journeys.

But as her health continues to deteriorate,

it's a race against time.

My body is pretty knackered,

but, all the time, my will is stronger.

I'll keep going.

And that means leaving an old life in the past,

with some regret,

but, mostly, with hope.

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