Our first task on returning to England was to try to assimilate back into "normal" life, although we had doubts whether that would ever be entirely possible again. It was comforting at least to find that nothing much had changed in Falmouth. The chandlery had moved onto the main street and a few shops had disappeared but others had taken over their premises. We coped with most things, but getting new sim cards for our phone and tablet was a challenge. We were puzzled why anyone would think we might want a weekly cup of coffee and a pizza included with our contracts - we would rather pay less for the service! We were also shocked at the increase in price of a berth at the Visitor's Haven. Even its name is now a misnomer since much of the space has been given over to permanent holders. It is still possible to anchor, although the area is very tight, but, as we were going to leave the boat unattended, we moved onto a swinging mooring. Our first venture inland was to take a train to Newton Abbott for a relaxing few days staying with Mary, Amanda's mother. On our return, we saw that Americans John and Ellie of Serenity had arrived from the Azores, and we caught up with their news over lunch at the Shipwright's Inn. They were one of the very few non-European cruisers that make it to our shores, sadly. We felt rather embarrassed about the weather as it was chucking it down with rain and blowing old boots from the north-east. On a much better day, we went for a long walk along the coastal path past Maenporth Beach, and were impressed that, despite the chilly conditions, holidaymakers were swimming in the sea and sunbathing.

Our hope was to make a leisurely cruise home to Chichester, calling at some of our favourite haunts along the way. However the forecast was for southerly gales, which ruled out Fowey where we had hoped to go next, so we decided to make a dash for Dartmouth while the wind was still in the north-west. The morning's shipping forecast for sea area Thames was NW storm force 10, and Dover severe gale force 9, and we felt for our Swedish friends who were ahead of us making their way home up the North Sea. We slipped our mooring just as the sun appeared over St. Mawes, and it turned into a beautiful, crisp day with superb visibility and a gentle breeze, giving us lovely sailing conditions. As we approached the River Dart, the coastguard read out a gale warning: Plymouth, Biscay, Lundy: "Southerly gale 8 expected later". We found a sheltered position on one of the midstream pontoons opposite the town and stayed for a very sociable fortnight. We were invited for supper by local residents Tony and Rachel, whom we'd last seen on Saltwhistle III in the USA, and also by Jane and Jez, old non-sailing friends. We entertained Lisa and her daughter - family of one of Amanda's Clipper Race colleagues - for lunch on board, Amanda's mother on another day and old walking friends of Amanda's - Graham, Anna, their children Ben and Kate, and John and Dorothy - on a third. After that lunch, we all went back to J & D's home on the edge of Dartmoor for a very happy three days. Then Bob - my old friend from Solo dinghy days - arrived alongside on Benmore and we joined forces with his crew for supper. Apart from meeting people, we renewed our acquaintance with Dartmouth and its beautiful surroundings. On one day we walked along country lanes to Coleton Fishacre and back via the coastal path, and were relieved to have it confirmed that the National Trust really does present our historic properties better than any other country in the world.

We used to regard the next leg as a real challenge: the 40 mile crossing of Lyme Bay. Perhaps even more now, we know how important it is to respect the tidal race off Portland Bill - one of the infamous headlands of the world. We slipped at 0615 and ran into fog at the mouth of the river, despite a fresh north-westerly breeze, and it started to rain, turning heavy by midday. The visibility improved during the afternoon which allowed us to spot Portland Bill 7 miles away, just as the tide started to turn in our favour. We rounded the Bill and in mid afternoon dropped the anchor off Castle Cove Sailing Club in Portland Harbour. Only then did it stop raining. Next morning we moved onto an RNSA mooring and went ashore to be met by Karen - Amanda's sister - and Phil, who drove us to their home near Dorchester. We had a very pleasant three days with them, taking in a visit to Stourhead, another National Property, on a rare sunny day.

It was a lovely morning as we continued sailing eastwards, passing close by Durdle Door and Lulworth Cove - the white cliffs glinting in the sun. A school of about twenty dolphins rushed past in the opposite direction; it was good to know that we could still encounter them in home waters. We gybed off St. Alban's Head, crossed Swanage Bay, rounded Old Harry and anchored in Studland Bay in time for lunch. It was a Saturday, and gradually the anchorage filled with power boats - many more than we'd seen anywhere since leaving America. Most of them left before dark, leaving us at peace with about thirty other sailing boats. We rose early again on a bright, chilly and windless morning, and motor-sailed across Poole Bay to the Solent. Was that a touch of moisture in my eyes as we passed the Needles Lighthouse - so nearly home? We moored to a pontoon near Lymington Town Quay, rowed ashore and walked up the hill to Amanda's aunt Margo's for tea - a rather poignant occasion because uncle Howard, who had been an enthusiastic supporter of voyage, had passed away during the time we were gone.

Next day we crossed the Solent to Newtown Creek and were delighted to learn that one can still anchor in this beautiful harbour for the cost of a donation to the National Trust. In fact it has hardly changed since the 1960s when I sailed there with my father and mother. As usual, there were a few anxious moments while the tide turned, but we had an undisturbed night. After an early morning walk along the foreshore to Hamstead Ledge, we upped anchor, motored to Cowes and continued up the river to the Folly pontoons. We had arranged to meet my brother Andrew and nephew Jonathan, who were sailing from Chichester in Freyja with the afternoon tide. We were relieved that the Folly Inn hadn't changed either, their food and beer is as good as I remembered it, and it is consequently as popular as ever.

We parted our ways after a cooked breakfast on Egret, and sailed back down the Solent to Yarmouth. Unfortunately this has been developed into a characterless marina rather than the picturesque old harbour where one had to moor between piles. Still, it was a useful stopover to get our laundry done and buy some provisions, and the Royal Solent Yacht Club is always a pleasant place to linger over a drink while watching the goings on out on the Solent. Arpeggio, another Sweden Yachts 390, was in the marina, so we dropped in for a coffee, which gave us a chance to inspect their cockpit tent. We reckon we'll need one to replace our bimini if the British weather stays as wet as this August has been. After two nights in Yarmouth we sailed back up the Solent to anchor in Osborne Bay. It was a very calm night apart from occasionally rolling in the wake of passing ships. I awoke early with anticipation, and peered out of the hatch to see the sun rising over Portsmouth's Spinnaker Tower.

We had planned our return to Hayling Island Sailing Club for the Saturday after Regatta Week, when traditionally the visitors have gone home and the members have the club to themselves. The tide was with us, but a fresh easterly wind had kicked in so we had to tack off Lee-on-Solent, Ryde Sands, Spit Sand Fort and Bembridge before making a final hitch towards Chichester. As we sailed into Hayling Bay, another yacht started manoeuvring in rather close quarters to us, and then we realised that it was Simon on his Atteleur with Mark and Phil - all friends from my International Canoe sailing days. We rounded the West Pole Beacon at 1435, four years and a month since we had set out from here, having sailed a total of 41,000 miles up and down and around the world. We continued into the harbour, surrounded by the vibrant spectacle of dozens of dinghies and yachts - just as we remembered and revered it. We were now being escorted by Richard and Caroline in Louise, and they pointed out the code flags flying from Hayling Island Sailing Club, which read "Welcome home Egret". Then we spotted the banner with the same wording wrapped around the start box, and the group of familiar faces waving on the balcony. Pam Marrs, who had organised the flags, later told me that they had wanted to fire a finishing gun but couldn't because it might have confused the dinghy sailors starting at about the same time! We spotted Green Pepper dressed overall in our honour, and her owners, Anne and Vernon, were the first to board us, bearing a bottle of something fizzy. We picked up the visitor's mooring and were whisked ashore and up onto the balcony, where Greg the commodore gave a short speech and handed round glasses of bubbly. We were home at last, totally overwhelmed by such an unexpected and wonderful welcome.

THE END