every 15 minutes. I can reach the Gibraltar rock before it's high noon. Crossing an army of cargo boats, I reach the most desolate water above green-blue surface. The ferries arrive from all directions, as if they wanted to eat me and their bow and stern water are disgusting. The wind is now pretty stern and my GPS is at 12 miles until Tarifa. In the early morning, 12 miles are no problem, so I decide for it. Of course, I decide for it ;-)

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My boat marches, as if it had a date. Finally, I can escape the ferries ... Pew!
The wind gains power, and so do my monologues to comfort the crew. I'm not sure though ... it's just 6 more miles. There's too much pressure on my boat, and it's perilously close to the waves.

"Calm down, Andreas! Take the pressure down! You got to take the upper petrol down!" This is not easy with the wind pressure and the speed. If the boat loses course, I'm lost too! There's no time for mistakes or experiments. Everything has to fit blisteringly fast and every movement has to be perfect at first try. The petrol is down - now I get the first sheet to the middle of the boat ... and watch… still too much pressure! "Get it down, Andreas! Come on, the flatter is not good for the mood!" There's too much flurry ... and it becomes more and more.

The wave wants to change my course, so I take down the lower petrol ... it's getting better, but still the air smells like a broken mast ... way too much power! I decide to pull in the mainsheet ... it works! I look at the GPS ... 8 knots! This can't be true. I can see Tarifa… the harbor gate does not have any green and red tun. "What's going on?" Do I have to pass the emblem? I seems like I do have to. I can neither change my course towards portside, nor towards lower side. If the boat turns, it's over. It's my choice: the rock at the port side or the harbor wall at the lower side. I decide for the 100 points mark, like playing darts. The course should be good like this. Oh my God. The wave seems to reach the land. On my left, behind the harbor gate, I can see a sandy bay. It's a short decision. To the harbor? No chance! I can't see any heads in the water, the breaker is perfect ... Go ... And ... Fump ;-)

My boat looks like a ball of wool. All rope ends are spreaded. The wind carries a lot of sand into my eyes. A Dutch is carrying the boat.

It's the second time that I appreciate the land under my feet as an extremely good experience. I get off my wet clothes ... I'm naked in between all those people, but I don't care at all! Within 30 minutes the boat is repaired at most of its damages ... I need some beer ;-)

It's Sunday, 22nd July / Club Nautico Sankti Petri / 10 miles in front of Cadiz

Gibraltar-Tarifa and its Levante is the hardest thing, I've gone through so far. It didn't break me, but I learned to watch out. Afterwards people told me I had 36 knots speed in my back.

I'm on my way back home "course north-north-north"