Still pitch dark out when we rose. 05H00? There is no such time. But there was, and we were setting sail. Low pressure to the left of them, low pressure to the right of them - into the valley of death sailed Guapa. Or so it seemed.

Eerily calm out. Gone were the heavy, steep seas of yesterday. Glassy sea and hardly any wind to speak of. No more the five or six knots. Main up and engine going. Tide has already been running north for about an hour, so we made good speed. Then off Cap Gris Nez... cough, cough and splutter, splutter. Then nothing. The engine refused to budge. Like last year, crud in the fuel filter again. Argh!! About one mile off the TSS - perfect timing.

Unfurl genoa, and let's look for some wind. And someone must have taken pity on us. As if by magic 12kts appeared from the SW. I promised to burn a candle to the patron saint of sailors looking for wind. It was by no means a fast crossing, but it was a safe crossing.

Off Dover we headed north, and the wind had backed a bit to the SSW. Speed dropped to 4kts over the ground. Bugger. Ferries left, right and centre. What's half a mile between friends? Close encounters of the ferry kind. Up to Ramsgate, Goodwin Channel. It was slow going, but we were getting there.

About 3 miles off, the wind picked up: 6kts, 12kts, 19kt, 27kts... in the space of less than a minute! Talk about an adrenaline rush. How fast can you reef? The old girl rounded up, not once but twice. Bringing her about took all I had. Still, we got to about half a mile of the entrance. Then, the lights went red - approaching ferry. Not at all what we needed. Genoa now completely furled; the main took care of us. What's that? South cardinal! Fuck! Bring her about. She didn't respond. Start engine. It won't. Try again. Slowly the engine spluttered, and then kicked over. Phew.

Let's get that main down. Into the wind. Closer. I can't keep her any closer into the wind. Get that sail down. Pull it. Stacked and secured. Let's hope that engine keeps going. Port Control: permission in please. Permission granted. Calm down people; prepare all lines, port and starboard. Fenders over the side.

Once inside - still blustery - where to park the boat? All the berths on the inside of the western breakwater were taken. Plenty available on the outside; only snag - the wind (still gusting over 30kts) kept blowing us off. Then, a thing I dread: 'helpful' hands ashore. And Brigitte and Evita had thrown them a line. You know they mean well, but you never know what they'll do. Some shouting, some confusion... It wasn't pretty, but it ended OK.

Off to the marina office. What do you mean, we can't stay there? Ramsgate Week? Reserved? The eastern breakwater? You've got to be joking - no water, no electricity and stuck in the mud half the time. Eventually I was allowed to pick a berth (alongside) in the inner marina. Good call. All the amenities and more sheltered. Four o'clock and we were in there. We'd swing her round to get out tomorrow.

And now: Ramsgate routine. First call - Pizza Express. Take it from there. Yanni had hooked up with his local friend Jordan in no time. Evita lived on her mobile - boyfriend on the other end. Read a bit, had a drink... The usual.

Next day, very blustery; winds in the high 20's, low 30's all day. And that was in the more sheltered inner marina. God only knows what it must have been like outside. A walk along the outer breakwater gave us a fair idea. We walked at a 30 degree angle at times. Plenty of foam about too.

Let's hope that predicted lull materialises tomorrow. French forecast said so (and they had really been good so far) and Belgian forecast said so. Met Office were covering their precious behind - predicting anything from a 3-4 to F8 locally. Bound to be right somewhere.

Final stretch tomorrow- SW5-6 - I think we can manage that. Another roller-coaster ride. I could almost smell home.