Going solo. At last - or too soon? Brigitte and Yanni dropped me off on board on Wednesday evening and then made their way home. It felt strange; alone on board. Jolie Brise would be setting out roughly the same time I planned to. She was took up a mooring not too far away. Early night, I figured I would need to be on my toes the next morning. I plugged in the iPod and nodded off.

I did not sleep much, or soundly at all. Most of the time I just lay there, waiting for 05H00. When the time finally came I didn't waste any of it. Start engine, uncover sails, slip mooring and hoist main. Glorious sunshine, but very little wind. It was going to be another long crossing. Jolie Brise was still oblivious to the world.
By the time I reached the container terminal I observed some movement astern - I guess I would not be alone for long. By Landguard Jolie Brise had caught up, and by Cork Sands she left me behind. We would keep in touch on the VHF.

Once I had passed Rough Towers I settled on the familiar course towards Ostend (130�M). Wind sat dead on the nose and the main wasn't doing me any good at all; so, I took it down. Rolled a bit more, but it was altogether at lot more quiet. Only the persistent drone of the engine for company.
Just before lunch Jolie Brise called. 'How are you?' 'Bored! And making very slow progress'. Then, a moment of panic. I went down below to fix myself some lunch (before I hit the TSS) and had the fright of my life. The fuel gage indicated I was motoring on reserve fuel. And I hadn't even reached the half way mark yet.

Before I left that very same gage indicated I still had about 2/3 left in the tank. The tank holds 400 liters. More than enough to get to Ostend and back. Now I realized the gauge can not be trusted at all - it just makes it up as it goes along. Jolie Brise carried 10 liters of diesel in a can - too little to be of any use to me. The only thing left to do was pray for wind. So, I did.

Some-one must have been listening. Wind, and it started to back. By mid TSS I was able to switch the engine off. Not be fore time, there were indications I was motoring on vapours.



What followed then were the best six hours of sailing I had done in a long time, if ever. All alone, the wind, the sea, the birds... . Even trimming the sails I experienced like I never had before. Truly at ease with myself and the world. Gone was the fear of going over the side. If it wasn't for the fact that I was crossing one of the busiest shipping lanes anywhere, I wouldn't have had a care in the world.

The solitude had a funny effect on me. After 10 hours I started talking out loud to myself - I even sang out loud and I can't carry a tune to save my life. I commented upon everything; a passing flight of gannets, the extra half knot I squeezed out of the sails,...

By the time I got to Westhinder I was no longer alone. Civilisation was evident all around. The anchorage was quite crowed and chatter on the VHF increased. Ostend came into view not long after that. Still about two hours to go, but I started thinking about how to park the boat. Would it be alongside, or would there be a mooring available? What was the wind doing inside? A quick call from Jolie Brise cheered me up somewhat; plenty of moorings still available.

Bowlines (port and starboard) ready, fenders either side, and stern line with mooring hook ready. Bring it on. About a mile out I took the sails down. Genoa first, then I started the engine and pointed Guapa into the wind. Snorky only kept here there with some difficulty as due to the swell we rolled quite a lot. Still, main down and secured without any mishaps.

I motored into Ostend in the last of the daylight. Then I think I went into "auto-mode". Don't think, just do! Mentally I just picked a buoy and I went for it. Easy, glide in, secure hook, gently on the engine, head for the pontoon, and drift. A small party had assembled on the pontoon to take the bow lines. All secured - adrenaline rush kicked in. I had done it!

My personal 'little Everest' conquered. Top of the world.
All that remained were the usual chores: make sure I'm secured properly, plug in shore power, pick up the lethal anti-foul Alain had arranged for me.

Jolie Brise had offered to cook me dinner, and he was as good as his word. Some Jupiler, an amazing spag-bol and a very nice bottle of red. Great meal, great company, great sail,... Life was good, and I knew it.