Not much to be said about our passage up the Scheldt river. Other than the fact that I need to buy new charts for the return trip - somehow there were more buoys than there were in 2004. Big boys up close (less than a cable away) but they all proved friendly. Surfing in their wash.

No wind - whatsoever. My only worry - will we have enough diesel to see us to Antwerp? The fuel tank has crud in it and will be steam cleaned this winter. So, I had been told to empty the tank as much as possible. Job done. To be on the safe side I carried two 20ltr jerry cans.

Arrived off Antwerp HW-30. According to the almanac opening times of the lock are HW-1 to HW+1. Straight in? Forget it. I should write to the editors of Reeds. The lock opens at HW-1 and then again HW+1. This meant another 90 mins of what in the navy we referred to as 'masturbation navigation' (up and down over and over again). Boring, or what? Then, with 40 mins to go - panic. The ominous sound of a fuel starved engine. Quickly I emptied one jerry can into the fuel tank. Should be enough - and it was.

Once inside, finding a berth proved to be a different matter. The place was packed to the rafters. Boats rafted up three or four deep, everywhere, even in the fairway. Hardly any room to squeeze by, let alone manoeuvre or turn. At least there was no wind. I spotted one free berth but was promptly advised that I couldn't go in there. An hour of near disasters averted later we ended up... in that one free berth. If we had to move, we would do so tomorrow.

Alain was now well and truly in his element - jump to it. Get these sails down, both main and genoa removed and neatly folded and bagged in less than an hour. Removing the boom took no time at all. Experience, I'm still building it, but Alain's got a lifetime of it going spare.

Dinner at the very friendly Liberty yacht Club. And another early night - for Alain. Stayed behind (too long) to enjoy the hospitality and the beer. Learned a lot about the history of our boat. One of the people at the bar used to work for De Valk (the broker where we bought Guapa). Well, well, I never knew.

Found the harbourmaster the next morning and told him where we were. Was promptly informed that I couldn't stay where I was. New berth: alongside the fuel pontoon. Alongside and secured in no time. We left the boat there overnight. Alain had some commitments in Ostend and I still had to pick up a van so that I could empty the boat.

Thursday was spent emptying the boat - I never realised we had so much stuff. Everything had to go; from mattresses to dinner plates. From dinghy to duvet. Meanwhile Alain started tweaking the rigging. The van I had rented was packed - not much room left over. And I had thought the van would have been too big.

The wind had us well and truly pinned against the fuel pontoon. How the hell was I going to get to the pontoon by the crane? We were to first boat to have her mast stepped that morning, we had to be in place by 07H30. Just have to hope the wind drops overnight and shift her early tomorrow. Dinner at the Liberty Yacht Club - again. Too many beers - again. Well, the beers, that was me - mostly. Back to the boat. Pitch-dark, but no wind. I had one of my ideas again: 'Why not move the boat now?' What, now? Yes, now - no time like the present. It's amazing what a couple of beers can do to a man's confidence. Three minutes later we were tied up where we should be. Just perfect, so perfect it nearly made me cry. Why? Because it was a manoeuvre I will tell my grandchildren about and there was no-one to see it.

Unstepping the mast was another tight squeeze affair, but we got there in the end. The rest of the morning I just went through the motions - removing spreaders from the mast, tying up the rigging,... By lunchtime it hit me: I'm not going sailing again any time soon. Seeing Guapa laid up, without a mast, had finally brought it home.

What have I done?