gone, but this morning fog welcomes me. The harbor is calm and you can hardly hear the sound of the few fishermen at the racks, who cannot stop working on their nets. They wave aside when I tell them about my plan to surround the cape. Using their hands and feet they tell me the sight won't get any better today. My mood is not good currently. I am too insular and isolated. Staying here longer? No… I have to make a plan!
Down at the other side of the runway three "musto-boys" are getting ready for takeoff. I ask them if they would go to Cherbourg, too and beg them to stay in sight during the ride until we passed the cape. They actually plan to go there and agree to my plan reluctantly. The skipper looks surprised when my yacht appears in front of their boat. They had never seen my two-master before. "You want to surround the cape with this? Let's exchange mobile phone numbers and please call us as soon as there is any kind of problem, ok?" The guys are nice, we have a cup of coffee together before we start and I tell them very short about my adventures so far.
I'm ahead of them at the port entrance, both of my canvas open. The wind is slow at first, but at least it helps a bit. After an hour, the sight is getting better. Then fog comes back and the sight gets worse. The wind fires on. Let's get started. I can see the waves through my glasses and I'm too close to it already but anyway ... this boat succeeded so many challenges. It will also succeed now. The yacht of my three friends is nearly out of sight. I don't know how far they are and I remember them saying something like "pulling the sails" which means "we will accelerate". Time has come, it seems. Fisher net's buoys are pulled under water; the streaming shows its power. Sometimes it is better to not see any buoys at all


Hervehs restaurant - the only chance to get something to eat

and not to know what is going on underneath. My speed reaches ten knots. I'm coming. The waves start to bounce. They seem to attack my boat from every direction. They arrive out of the nowhere - fast and mighty and wallow towards me. The boat is like a wild horse that can't be broken. Every third wave is so fast and powerful, it befalls me. As if lined up it's all over after twenty minutes and I can see the end of the wind waves. It was not as bad as the sandbank in front of Royan, but I don't want to surround the cape every day ...
With a course towards west the spook is over and I've made it. The wind gets stronger to five Beaufort and my boat speeds up like a Ferrari. In the late afternoon, I can see the entrance of Cherbourg. Only when I can nearly touch the other yachts' masts, I strike my sails. A policeman watches me. "There will be a ferry coming soon. You have to clear the place" houts while I slip from the boat and can hardly hold myself. Things like that only happen, when you are watched! My feet are wet up to the bottom. While I watch aft, a sailing boat raises my attention. This boat just enters the harbor. It's behind me. I repeat: Behind me! The three "pulling sailors" ... the "musto-boys" who I thought would have overtaken me miles ago are raising their thumbs while they are standing on deck and laugh. I was faster. "I'm exceptionally talented" comes to my mind while I grin.
I would really love to be exceptionally talented. Just a few days later this wish goes south when I leave the Netherlands in Delfzijl and head towards Norderney. My navigation is prepared insufficient. I just typed in the coordinates to my GPS and takeoff. That's not enough for the tideland. Isn't my boat ready to slip across everything? I wanted to profit from the stream, but the broth is coming from everywhere and it is counteracting. Just seven miles to Norderney and I can't see any fairway. At the level of Norddeich suddenly I can see the ground. The water is only ankle-deep. Damn!! Hoist the sails and let wind and water work. Somewhere in front of Norddeich I've seen four green tons - they must lead to somewhere. Those four tons turn out to lead to a fairway to Norddeich, which I will not arrive this evening. Against the


Nice welcome in Cherbourg

tide I can only move very slowly. At 6 p.m. I have to leave my boat to push it! A 6:30 p.m. the water is finally gone totally. 2,5 miles in front of Norddeich I'm "stranded". Within 500 meters there is a Dutch boat on the mud. The captain stayed there to have some peace and silence. But this is over now. I'm coming! We drink coffee and have a soup together, but the guy doesn't invite me to his boat. Has that to do with my feet?
"The water will return soon, so you can arrive at Norddeich still in daylight" he's guessing. I walk back to my boat at 8 p.m. The wind is carrying voices. In my glasses I can see an open-air-theatre and many people who are gathering at the beach. I probably could a get a beer there. I stand beside my boat in the mud. It's getting darker and darker. I think I will not make it to Norddeich's harbor, but there's something that looks like a slipway near the open-air-stage. I could even head to this in the darkest night. Ok, there are enough landmarks for my orientation.
While I speak to Sabrina on the phone, a strong wind is coming up and brings rain. It's really black now and I can hear a voice saying "Thanks for your visit ..." before the screen turns off. I just lost a landmark… no beer ... new plan. I'm wet to my skin now - that's something. At 11:45 p.m. the water returns. It returns very slowly. I lose my patience and get over board again at a height of 40 cm, walking the 2,5 miles through the mud in the middle of the night, carrying a boat of 350 kg on a belt… what a carnal adventure!
After a while, in front of the so-called beach, a light is searching the area and I'm pretty sure this is a security guy who wants to clear the festival area from the leftover people. The water gets deeper ... I turn on my turbine and the guy seems to be scared. His ray of light is searching the water until he finds me. "Hey Ho" my voice booms out of the dark night ... "Can I get some fries and two meatballs, please?" The young security guy curdles his blood. He must have often thought about this kind of situation - a guy appearing out of the water… now he knows what it feels like.

I've always been on my way home and I still am. I have overwhelming power, a full heart, I'm homesick and I long for you all. There's nothing that could have stopped me on my way back. I cried often because I missed my loved ones. Especially during the last two weeks I cried… for other reasons. This adventure will always be something so special for me. I'm close to my home and I know something extraordinary will end.
Next Saturday, 3rd August 2013, I will finally make it. At 10:30 am I will enter our Eider-barrier after sailing 7800 sea miles. With a boat that is so unique. "Thanks so much - you kept me alive"

Büsum, 31st July 2013
I'm nearly home. I can tell from the color of the water - believe it or not. I can smell my home!