06/07/08, 2000 Zulu time, 10ºº30’S; 133º54’E, Arafura Sea, on my way to Darwin, Australia.
I am sailing. After such close contact with reefs and islands, having “only” ships around me really is a piece of cake. After some time, I find oil in the bilge. Again. How come, where is the leak? I spend a while thinking (in the long run, this activity is really tiring), but now that I’ve already experienced that, I’m an expert. I look for an open bottle of extra oil, and… I find it. The lid has fallen off. Once is just an incident, but it has happened to me twice over the last few weeks. Gosh!
A phone call from Ustka. I visualize a glass of juice on the promenade, with my friends. I miss Ustka, I miss my home… In the meantime, Tanasza gets a short wave, similar to those of the Baltic Sea. New navigation lights are so bright that I don’t dare to look at water, afraid to see crocodiles, jellyfish, venomous snakes, or something even worse. I clean my first aid kit, because although it had survived hurricanes on the Indian Ocean, it fell prey to a mouse. It must have found the anti-dehydration pills delicious, as it ate all of them.  Rubinoscorbin seems to have been tasty as well. She peed on the rest, making the inserts totally illegible. I had to repair all the boxes, label them, make the list of losses, pack it all in something new, mouse-proof this time. While doing all these, I’m thinking about Papua, I know that my new friends from Port Moresby are thinking about me, too. I can almost sense them here, with me – “Hey, you, this bunk is mine!...” 
After 600 miles or so, the time to make important decisions has come. I have to choose one of two ways of sailing to Darwin. One route is longer, it would finish with a 40-mile passage, 35 knots in irons. The other one seems to be shorter, but I would have to sail through Dundas Strait and a narrow passage near the Vernon Islands – Clarence Strait. No need to mention strong tides and shallows that are so common in such places. One of my sailing gurus commented: it’s very easy to  sail into rushes there. Who agreed to put all these straits on the map, if they are such a nuisance?!
It seems that since Adam and Eve, or maybe, to be more politically correct – Eve and Adam, ate the apple (didn’t they have citrus fruit in Paradise?), a man has not retreated from any madness in their scope. I read in Maciej Krzeptowski’s “Maria around the world” that tides would throw their yacht long, but they managed to anchor in Darwin on the same day. Well, if they did it, I can do it as well, I thought. I was really surprised when I entered the Dundas Strait, and it was absolutely impossible. I get down to the book once again, and you know what? They did anchor, yes, just not on the same, but on the NEXT day, after many hours of exhausting fight with tides. Gosh! Have I lost my mind, or what? How could I have misunderstood it?!? A typical woman, seeing and hearing what SHE wants to. 
And what she can see is a little bird sitting in a cockpit, totally soaked. A beautiful little creature. Oh, it’s so pretty, and oh, it must be really hungry, poor little thing. I cut some nuts for it and  soak them to make biting easier, or maybe it wants a cracker? No? Maybe the bits are too big... It’s like being at least Mother Teresa saving the bird’s life, and when I go to bed, I have this good feeling of fulfillment that you have when you help those in need. I wake up in the morning, and the only thing that my winged love has left is a poo on my newly painted deck. It was everywhere, and there was no way to clean it, as it had got really dry and hard. No more birds on the deck, nasty, deceitful creatures will seduce you with their beauty, but before you even hear them singing for you, you’ll get a dirty little gift, and that’s it. 
I make myself a tortilla to cheer up a bit. I prepare scrambled eggs and wrap it all, but before it reaches my mouth, it slips  from the tortilla and lands on the floor. Jeez!
Then, the toilet time comes (and I don’t have a toilet, remember?). I’ve just got down to “business”, when the border watch plane arrives . They are very low, just over my mast and they start asking about things. Such interviews happen every day, but why now??? Luckily, we all laugh in the same language. I finish what I’ve started and I rush to my radio. As usual, when they ask about the number of people on board, you don’t say anything (sometimes they repeat the question), after which they start congratulating, sometimes also give the weather forecast for the next few days. It’s great. I feel like someone is watching me. Plus, even though they fly, they don’t poo on my deck   (...nasty, deceitful....)
Coming back to my “Dundas” – hot like hell, strong currents, just impossible to take the course of your choice. Generally, when you sail as the current goes, everything is all right.  When it changes, you are lucky if you are just taken backwards, but usually it throws you crosswise, into the rushes, obviously. Will I or will I not stand it?
It’s just incredible how all these currents make a mess in a sailor’s life. You can see, almost like in a slow-motion movie, your yacht beginning the battle, very often doomed to failure. You think that you have 5 knots, whereas in fact your speed is zero. Sometimes, you even go backwards. I turned the engine on in order not to lose the miles that I’ve already come, as I calculated that only in this way can I be in the narrow passage at the right time, which is absolutely necessary for me to get to Darwin bay.

In the evening, the wind dies. As I had read from clouds, it gets much colder after the sunset, and in a few hours, the wind should reach 25 knots. I am scared, I recall all these warnings, making shape of an L on my forehead and wondering what on earth I expected when I persuaded myself: “I’m here to learn something”. Counting only on my engine, the moment it breaks, I have no alternative plan, I will just end up on the shore. I scrutinize the map to choose a spot where I could stop, just in case. Although it’s far from being easy, I prepare my anchor. Actually, it was almost impossible, because shrouds are all cobwebbed. I had no helmet to  get through them, maybe a diving mask would do? Yeah, right – a mask, a hat, or even two, just in case, long sleeves and trousers. Well, making friends with spiders is not my reason for sailing around the world, is it? Plus, spiders are something I just couldn’t bear.  It must have looked really funny – I closed my eyes before I reached the shrouds and, with a piercing scream, dodging, I almost crawled to the bow (oh yeah, just imagine my emergency anchoring). Luckily, there was no need for that. The wind starts blowing as it should, and, tying the anchor, I face a new horrible adventure. An Australian bumble-bee, or actually a bumble-bee-like monster decided to land on my leg. My scream echoed around the Vernons like a trumpet or something. Luckily, the islands are uninhabited, otherwise they would surely send a helicopter with help.
I am alive. Better still, my calculations proved to be so accurate that I whizz At 10 knots. T-E-N knots!!! Cool, isn’t it? With a banana-shaped grin on my face, music by Kayanis (kayanis.com) at full blast, I am really happy. I managed to pass Dundas in 16 hours. Maybe I’m not all that miserable, maybe I can sail a bit… I’ve been waiting at least a hundred years for that