12 23 S; 127 44 E, 22nd of August 2008, 07.00am Darwin Time (Friday)

I marked my position on the chart. The Timor Sea above me, Joseph Bonaparte Gulf below me. Quite a place to sail for a little yacht like Tanasza.

We had a beautiful sunset yesterday. One of the most beautiful I have ever seen. And then we came back to the misty reality, it felt as if we were sailing in gray sauce. We smelt a weird smell of land in the air. I couldn’t tell the difference between the sky and the sea. Everything was under a thick layer of fog, which made the world seem really tiny, or maybe rather as big as I was able to see.

Two nights on the sea have passed. I haven’t slept well. I woke up every few minutes in order to check if everything was fine since I had this strange feeling, and I did not want to miss anything.

15 hours later...
Days became normal, every now and then I was visited by a bird or a dolphin, reef block system’s choke broke down, I was visited by a Coast Guard plane and, finally, my favourite radio fell overboard. I don’t know exactly how it happened. After a brief conversation with the plane crew I wanted to reach for something and suddenly my black radio appeared floating on the water surface. I must say that it looked very nice testing its certificate of being waterproof, but why does it always happen to ME? Now start the engine, lower the sails, and steer while throwing a bucket and keeping an eye on it. Going towards the sun, I was struggling to see anything. As I worked in a rush, the mainsail did not want to go down easily, genoa entwined stays, the bucket turned out to be so tightly tied that it was impossible to untie it in that very situation. Hence, I had to walk over the rope with salted and drying meat supplies, and finally I got stuck and unable to stabilise the boom. Geez, it all can be done, but not with my eyes on the tiny radio and alone on the yacht. At least I thought as much for first few attempts (and there were a few) since my engine stopped a few times (still the same – it stops at low revolutions). Decisions, decisions, decisions: to go inside and start it again or to sit here and watch my communication handset float in the entrance to the Indian Ocean? To let fish talk or to get hit with a boom on the head? I had to recall Churchill’s words that I found on a bookmark in the book which Mietek W. gave me before I sailed out from Hawaii (why this thought occurred to my mind, I don’t know): “never, never, never surrender.” I guess I started to treat the entire situation as a kind of good fun. I was losing hope that I will get that radio out of water, for every time I let the steer alone, the course changed dramatically. Don’t ask me how, but I did it!!! I couldn’t believe it myself when I took the bucket full of salt water and my radio out of the sea... Now I am watching it charge. Beginner’s luck, I guess, should better stay with me.