Our challenges came immediately, even before leaving our anchorage in fact. The anchor brought with it some harbour floor hardware in the form of metal piping. Thus it was time for boathook manoeuvres to free the fouling and enable us to move. This was certainly a promise of things to come as you, dear reader, will see. We chose our departure from Thursday Island to coincide with the westward setting flood tide and, wow, did it set to the west. Diomedea was spat out of the Normanby channel with flow rates of more than 5 knots, and the flood continued into the Arafura sea for quite some hours, although at reduced rates. With 20 knots of breeze from behind and very confused seas for miles, it became clear that we had passed the point of no return. The only way home to Sydney now would be anticlockwise around Australia. Diomedea romped along with poled out jib making exceptionally good pace until we noticed some ominous looking clouds racing up astern. No sooner had we commenced preparations for reefing than one of the yachts behind us reported gusts of 50 knots. Yikes!! We got the sail down just as 40 knots swept through. Lucky. Somewhat chastened by this experience we kept the boat well reefed down for our first night at sea. Now, I want you to find a Google image of the Australian Economic Exclusion Zone along our northern coast. This is important. Have you got it? You will notice that there is a notch which sort of corresponds to the Gulf of Carpentaria. By late evening, Diomedea had sailed out of the EEZ into this notch of international waters. This turned out to be a really bad move, because in this patch of water there lies a vast fleet of Asian/Chinese/other fishing boats. With attended and unattended nets strung across the ocean. The fishing boats dare not enter the EEZ as it is regularly patrolled by Australian Border protection planes. The strategy of the fishing boats is to more or less blockade the entry/exit to Torres Strait for fish (and yachts). We spent our first night dodging many fishing boats, none of whom have AIS devices, nor respond to radio calls. Finally dawn came and our spirits lifted. Particularly when a small immature but inquisitive Sooty Tern appeared on our deck having a nice rest. Clearly he was separated from his flock and was probably exhausted. He left a number of calling cards naturally but in his short life he failed to learn one of those immutable laws of physics. That law states that small birds should not fly anywhere near the rapidly spinning blades of a wind generator. The poor little fellow was probably doomed anyway but it at least it was a very quick death. We had been warned about the location of some of the big nets by yachts in front of us so we kept a good lookout. To no avail. Just before dusk we ran over one net which scraped and rattled under the hull but separated and disappeared astern. Looking even harder into the gloaming we failed to see the second one which had only a small unlit buoy marking its location. Diomedea was brought to a sudden stop whilst running downwind as the net entangled itself around our hull appendages. We were held stern towards 25 knots of breeze and the accompanying seas by this anchor. Waves crashed over the back of the boat saturating the cockpit and us. As darkness descended, frantic efforts to bring the lines up the surface with the boathook were eventually successful and we could then chop through them and Diomedea began to move. However, we could clearly see a banner of lines, net fragments, and floats streaming out beneath our transom, definitely still attached to our hull. But to what exactly? The first concern was that the lines were wrapped around the propeller which would by now be damaged or partly avulsed by the large loads placed upon it. Was the prop shaft about to be ripped out of the hull altogether? Checking the prop shaft internally revealed no changes and the prop could be turned by hand without impediment. That was a good sign, but not enough to allow us to start out engine. We sailed into the night in a very heightened state of anxiety, resigned to having no recourse to the engine for the remainder of the passage. We steeled ourselves to keeping a sharp forward lookout in the dark, moonless night and monitored the radar closely. Looking forward proved very confusing because the intense bioluminescence of the breaking waves gave the false impression of lights everywhere. Our anxiety was not helped when, at 2am, a string of remarkably bright lights suddenly appeared right in front of the boat, as if out of nowhere. Close to panic as to which way to turn the boat to avoid this net, I realised that the lights were rising rapidly in the sky. They belonged to an Australian Customs plane which flew low enough that I could almost see the instrument glow in the pilots cockpit. Customs came on the radio and made it clear that we had re-entered the EEZ. We were out of the notch and back in the relative safety of Australian waters. The night grew ever darker, the fishing boats were gone, the radar screen was blank, and Diomedea was alone.