Friday 1800 Zulu time, 3rd of June 2008, Arafura Sea, position 10º48’S; 137º50’E, wind 15-20 knots, unfavorable current, sunny day, squalls at night, plenty of ships around…

I wrote S-T-R-A-I-T in capitals on purpose. Sailing here all by myself meant SOMETHING for me. Very few loners would call this "a piece of cake", although some did say it was just beautiful, with an engine and no wind, plain sailing, so to say... Still, the majority wouldn't be willing to take the route I planned. Well, I wasn't particularly happy about it myself, as I wasn't there in time for a weather window, but couldn't wait and had to go. You can probably guess what a weather window is, but let me explain it just in case. The window is a really nice thing. You carefully watch the weather before leaving a port, analyze it for some time to learn how it works in a given region, compare forecasts with reality. In the course of time, you more or less know what is going on with the weather, and, from time to time, you can catch the right moment to go – when the wind is favorable for a few consequent days, or at least when it is not too strong… it is especially important when you sail through a difficult passage, like the Torres Strait.
Moresby Port of Papua New Guinea is a perfect spot for catching such a window before you get off to the Strait. In this passage, being at the right reef at the right moment is crucial – it’s like to be or not to be for a sailor. Unfortunately, when a perfect moment came on Thursday, I wasn’t ready. How do I know it? Well, I gave my Tanaszka a test ride, and it turned out that the bilge pump was misconnected, and it burnt a fuse, that there is still a leak between the yacht and the shaft etc. All the sleepless hours I’d spent working came to nothing, as it was Friday on the next day, and everybody knows that setting sail on Friday is just not the done thing, is it? Good that I don’t have to explain the reason for that, because I must admit I’m not sure why this seems to be the most common sailors’ superstition. Friday is just a big DON'T! for sailors. After midnight, when the clock strikes 0001 on Saturday, feel free to go, but never ever do it on Friday... This is how I lost two days of my weather window.
On Saturday, after a relatively good night's sleep and the last preparations – clogging up the front bull’s eye, tanking water (I had refuelled earlier), shower, the last coffee with friends – I cast off the mooring lines on a windy, yet sunny, Saturday.  I had 204 miles to go before reaching the Strait. I did expect it would be difficult, but I had never thought it would be that tough!!! I am so happy it’s over now!

I have a book with me, by Maciej Krzeptowski, who shares his opinions about the Torres Strait, after sailing around the world on his “Maria”,  I have also re-read  those remarkable fragments  form Leonid Teliga’s “Opty” (my goodness, would I ever take this challenge without gps, counting only on stars and my own calculations?!!) 
As far as 70 miles before entering the narrow passage I have to watch out for the unlit Portlock Reef.  A piece of cake. Then, at night, the real fun starts in the 11-mile-wide Strait mouth. The thing is, the Bramble Cay entry lighthouse doesn’t seem to be alight, though it should be, at least that’s what they write in books... Another piece of cake. Someone had already warned me about it. This very sailor was tired, so he anchored near one of the islands, and, as tides are merciless here, spent the night looking for water around his yacht. Really. I’ve seen the photos. You really have to watch currents and tides in the Torres Strait. You also have to beware of all these reefs and small islands, not all of them lamp lit . There are ships as well, obviously... A piece of cake.
I keep on sailing and suddenly the compass light goes down, a wave floods the engine, the autopilot doesn’t work... Before I managed to do something about all these, it got dark. (Of course it all happened right at the moment I had to pass three reefs, all dangerously close to one another). To make things worse, I have 30 knots. In irons, as if it wasn’t just enough! I can’t even tack or gybe, because the lights I can see on the map have nothing to do with all these others that appear out of nowhere around me. A piece of cake! If only the moon hadn’t decided to leave me! But no, it’s just as dark as pitch. I’m not going to take unnecessary risks, so I decide to come back taking the same route I had taken this way. There’s no point in casting an anchor at night, especially if you think of my hand-pulled chain, plus I don’t trust my engine that much yet, and if, by some bad luck, my anchor got pulled, I wouldn’t be able to take it before drifting straight to the rocks. No sleep tonight, then, I spend my night in this dark trap, on a short stick, trying to avoid what looks dangerous before my bow... A piece of cake. 
I could do with a short nap, but stars don’t sleep, so I don’t have to either. I mean, the sky was so clouded that it hardly showed Delphinus*. It’s my favorite constellation, always with me. I must say I felt much better when I saw it, as I’d got quite scared, no to mention the seasickness caused by the weather conditions and refueling (I had a pint of oil, nice, huh?). The first day of my own female “current” didn’t improve my physical condition at all, my mental status was below zero anyway. A piece of cake.

At last! The long-awaited daylight has finally come. I suppose the Delphinus and my Dad have seen to it, because wind has got a bit lighter, and changed slightly, enough for me to pass among the densely set small islands with no tacking or gybing. It was perfect, although just in case I decided to use the engine as support. During the day, the Strait is really beautiful. You can see some reefs, islands, rocks everywhere. From time to time a boat guarding the territorial waters of Australia turns up, and they investigate sailors: where from, where to, what for and why (we are near Indonesia and they have to watch the borders). After passing the island of Twin, the water seems to be so turquoise! And I saw the fastest tortoise in the world! I think a shark was pulling it, that’s why it was so fast (and swam backwards).

I only have to go through the Prince of Wales Channel. Tides are so strong there that one minute was enough to throw me from one side of the passage to another.  The fight was tough – I had to calculate it very carefully, otherwise I would go either very fast or much too slow. Everything went well until... again, another “piece of cake.” The map doesn’t show what I can see before me. What a nasty feeling! A sea mark tells me everything, but why on earth is it here, and it is not there on my new map, and where is my green buoy??? I was afraid to get too close to the sea mark (my tiny little phobia), and I couldn’t recognize its exact shape or colors. I waited for the sunset, hoping for it to get alight. Quick flashes.. yes, that would be it, but where on earth is that buoy?  It was the first time when I wanted some ship to pass me and prove I was going the right way. Nothing appeared, unfortunately, but the current helped me a bit, and somehow I managed to get through it. Now, just one last lighthouse on Booby Island that I planned to pass really close. It’s like a gate to the open Arafura Sea. Open waters, open space, much safer. How far is it?
When I’m passing the island, I’m feeling really strange – I am neither asleep, nor awake, constantly trying to engage my eyes and thoughts in something: right behind the island there are "parking spaces" for big ships that take pilots onboard before they enter the Strait; many of them just sail before my bow as if I wasn’t there and go to and fro in front of Tanaszka. I have to  go around them carefully – another piece of cake.  I was already exhausted, but, sailing on my own, had no one to complain to, so without moaning, I was doing my best not to fall asleep. Eating coffee grains, I set myself new tasks – for instance, I spend a long time searching for a pencil, I have just seen it somewhere here! I also clean my mess (on the next day, I find some instant soup packed into a tool bag.) "You can’t go to bed, not yet,” I’m trying to convince myself, “there are just a few shallows to pass” (…) I was afraid that if I laid my head even for a while, the loudest alarm clock in the world wouldn’t be able to wake me up, and being fast asleep among shallows wouldn’t be a piece of cake.
I was sailing. I did it. After passing Torres Strait, I felt a great relief, as if someone finally let me out of the maze where they had been waiting for my mistake. What a marvelous feeling it is to sail onto the big water. I felt like I was free again. Did I really manage to do it? I kissed my yacht and went to sleep.

• Delphinus is located somewhere between the flying horse Pegasus and the eagle Aquila, on the southern edge of the Milky Way. People tend to mistake it for the Little Dipper.
  
There are two legends related to the name of this constellation. The older one tells the story of Poseidon’s love to Amphitrite, a beautiful daughter of old Nereus, a sea fortune teller. The king of the sea fell in love with her when she was dancing with her sisters on the bank of Naxos. Enchanted by her beauty, Poseidon wanted to take her with him, but Amphirite hid from him at the Titan Atlas’. Poseidon took long to find her, finally a dolphin showed him the way, and Poseidon put him on the sky as a reward. Next, he kidnapped the girl and married her.

Another legend tells the story of Arion, alleged Poseidon's son, a famous storyteller, artist and singer, a half-mythical hero. After successful shows in Sicily, Arion sailed to Corinth, but was robbed by some sailors, who made him either commit suicide or jump to the sea, as they feared he would report them. Arion chose the latter, but before he jumped, he played his lyre and started singing, which attracted a group of dolphins. One of them took Arion on his back and took him to the shore. Grateful for this, gods transformed the dolphin into a constellation.