First up is the mainsail, I turn the boat into the wind, as instructed, and, Ray and Barry hoist on the line that takes the mainsail to the top of the mast, it flutters in the breeze and after an ajustment of the main sheet we're under sail at last about half a mile offshore. We've managed to miss the reef and avoid getting snagged on the lobsterpot markers which are just plastic milk bottles bobbing about the entrance. When we sailed in Largs there was a wind indicator at the top of the mast, but on Rays boat it's fallen off, but the wind generator is a good indicator, except that when I look up at it I'm blinded by the sun. Anyway the best way is to feel where the winds coming from, says Ray, and he's right after a little while I can tell when we pick up speed, or loose it.

Odyssey has a tiller and this takes some getting used to, it's sort of counter intuitive, as you have to push in the opposite direction to where you want to turn. The engine is off now and we're heading out into the Atlantic, with a good breeze off the right hand side of the boat, or starboard as we sailors say. Time to hoist the front sail, or jib, this is done by pulling on a line that unrolls a sail called a furling jib. This causes a few interesting exchanges between Barry and Ray who at this time are manning the ropes. Just a note here to say that Rays friend Barry is over here on holiday and knows almost less than we know about sailing, and he wears a hearing aid which hampers communication at times. He is also one of natures clumsey types, a combination that causes some mild amusment from me and Jackie, with Rays exasperated jordie lilt, exuding frustration at his second mates ability to complete the raising of the jib without snagging a line of pulling when he should be paying out his line. It's all done in good humour though and with the Jib now set we enjoy a bracing race across the bumpy seas sailing at about 5 knots.

It's totally exhilerating, neither of us feels remotely sea sick and we take turns at the helm. We're out about 15 miles before we turn and head back towards the shore and back to Luperon. Ray seems pleased with the performance of Odyssey, and we have had a great experience and learned a lot of anecdotal stuff, from Rays' unique unflustered style of instruction. The wind has strengthened on the way in and we're often heeled over at well beyond 45 degrees before we make it back to the entrance to Luperon bay. The mainsail comes down, the engine kicks back into life, and the jib is furled, as we now try to pick the right line to sail back into the bay, Jackie steers clear of the lobster "buoys" and the reef, which is just off to port and we enter shallow water.

The depth gauge reads 12 to 13 ft as I take over the helm, Ray has the "chart" out and is checking the GPS. We need to zig zag at this point, but with no indication from buoys Ray wants me to head towards a headland of beach that we graced on the way out. We're not doing more than one or two knots, when suddenly we come to abrupt halt. Oh dear we've run aground, the depth went from 10ft to 5ft 6" in a few yards. Ray throws the engine into reverse but to no avail, forward does absolutely nothing either.

We need to unfurl the jib, says Ray, this will help the boat heel over to free the keel that needs more than 6ft to clear the bottom. We all sit on one side of the boat, but we're still stuck fast, we rock as best we can but it now looks like we're well and truly grounded. At this point a sudden gust takes both Jackie and my hats off into the water and they slowly float away with no chance of retrieval. Mine slowly sinks whilst Jackies straw bonnet sails off into the distance.

Ray has exhausted his options and is thinking of calling for a tow when suddenly the depth gauge shows 7ft and we're floating free. We slowly regain our inward course when Ray realises we had picked the wrong bit of beach to head for. It's all a learning curve, and Ray says he always includes grounding as part of the course. Twenty minutes later we're safely back at Odyssey's mooring and heading, in the dingy for a cold beer at the "yacht club". We've been out for seven hours in gusts of up to twenty knots, and in quite choppy seas and it's been fantastic, tomorrow we'll be doing it all again, but without the grounding.