The wind had picked up somewhat overnight and back N. Still, not that it should pose a problem. The fog of last night remained, in fact it had gotten worse. Details, details, ...
Other detail: local info said that entry into Blankenberge was dodgy this time of year. The entrance had not been dredged yet. Nieuwpoort it was then.

Ostend itself was as good as dead – I've had more fun at funerals. Had to walk half an hour to find an open bakery. No doubt, the town had decided to take the day off after a busy holiday week-end. Even the otherwise omni-present harbour master proved illusive.

One outside, the big surprise was the sea-state. Short, steep waves. Not fun, not fun at all. Nausea quikly set in – first time in many years. Not having breakfast was not a good idea. One mile offshore and the coastline was invisible – only hints of it here and there in the fog. Navigating the sandbanks by plotter at the chart-table did not really help with the nausea.

Assisted by the tide we made very good speed and just over an hour after we left Ostend we sailed into Niewpoort. A picture of desolation if there ever was one.
Took on diesel (278ltrs – calculations not wide off the mark) and since there was really to nothing to tempt us to stay we quickly headed back to us.

Assisted by a fresh N-ly breeze we once again made good speed under genoa only and visibility had improved somewhat which was a great boon. By the time we were once again tied in Ostend glorious sunshine was our part. Nice one.

The 'voice of Europe' had turned up too – hand outstretched – eager to have his palm crossed with silver. And it seems he knew we had been there the night before too. The rest of the day was ours to waste: a bit of shopping, a couple of beers with friends, and a nice meal before an early night. Perfection.

My only source of worry: the weather forecast. N-ly 6-7. Sailing home was going to be a close thing.