weight in the middle of the night on top of any hill - in a mad fury. My clothes fly at mast and I turn the boat as fast as I can with its front to the waves, trying to stay as dry as I can. The outboard motor is working, I count the waves from one to six, get a smaller one at last - here we go! Now - get on the boat at full throttle. It worked! Yes!!

I get on my clothes and continue my adventure. No position in my GPS, I'm heading towards Taranto today - towards civilization. My water reserve and my food are nearly gone. Though you can hardly miss a town in this size I'm miffed about my careless preparation. After eight miles I sail around a cape that looks very military with radar scanner, all watched over and fenced. Am I approaching too near, spook as I am? There's a loudspeaker voice again, this time it's Italian! No problem for me - I've been here for seven days! I translate immediately to myself: "Get away, idiot". Of course I have to grin, but I don't feel quite good in those situations. Then there's a boat approaching quickly. Aw. No, it's passing me J Great! Everything seems to be good. Look at that! It's Taranto! A huge city comes to sight, lying back in a bay. I can see tanks, cargo ships, way too much of cranes, hundreds of red buoys and some strange yellow ones among them. Additionally, there seems to be a belt of mountains at the whole bay parallel to the mainland. This is like a sign to me, in a mystical way. "Don't you dare getting in there, you will never ever find back" I decide spontaneously. I'd rather starve or die of thirst.

The wind is on the rise while I was talking to myself, coursing through the slalom of buoys. There's a strange thing happening that I don't miss: It's not only the wind that grew stronger, but also the waves changed. They got kind of curly or crimping which is a sign that there's something happening out there that is unusual. I'm getting nervous, but I can see a town through my glasses. I guess this town is ten miles away. It is 12:30 pm. The days are already very short and the sun disappears at 4 pm. I have to be fast now and make sure I'll have a safe bivouac tonight.

Mile after mile there's nothing that I can see through my glasses, except for beaches and wave breakings. Oh gosh, the town I was heading to was no town! It was a hotel chain with nothing but beach and wave breakings. Great - what to do now? Ah! Over there! On the right (ok, bow side, if you want to call it that way!) there's a mole. I decide to take a look at it. After 1.5 miles I've reached it and it's not very inviting what I can see.

It's 2 pm when I move on. I can see a boat with two divers through my glasses. I ask the way to the next harbor. "No harbor" is their answer. When I ask if I could possibly stay somewhere behind the mole they shake their heads. So I move on again, this time just for a mile. I think "you have to go back, Andreas! You have to stay behind the mole." I'd rather have less breaking waves behind a mole than some irrepressible waves at any beach. I enter the sand half protected by the mole to check the situation. After two minutes of looking around I can see a paradise for seeking refuges like me. It's an old, sandy harbor with a "three chamber protection system":

HALF PROTECTED - WELL PROTECTED - DUCK POND.

Just in the moment when I decide for the second chamber, it arrives - the reason for all the curly waves on the water: The Sirocco. The Sirocco is a fast and dreaded south wind. Its full name is Sirocco GT 8 turbocharger with nitrous oxide injection. Within an hour the entry to my mole changes to the gate of hell. It's really mad.

You wanna know why I returned out there to seek protection right here? I think it's the instinct that forms itself once you are out there long enough. In my case, long enough means six months. I was always aware that this moment would come. The sea would talk to me someday to tell me "I have the greater power, buddy - be prepared". I was not aware that this moment would come that soon. I thought it would be somewhere between the North of Italy and Marseille.

The sea will kill you; it's warning you and it will destroy you if you don't see it.

A good alpinist can see a sloping cloud on the sky and thinks "Well, today I'm gonna climb another one". I think I am a good alpinist, so there are two options for me. I could organize a winter pallet for myself, staying with nice people and sweeping 2000000 square meters for bed and breakfast (this idea is really boring) or I stand up, pack my stuff and wait on the street for someone to give me a ride home.

I could write the first one of the two books I planned, prepare some presentations about the first part of my adventure and kiss my kids from head to toe daily. If you have kids as wonderful as mine, you know the two options are out of all proportion. Time is more important to me than ever, as well as to make it count. My stories live from unpredictable surprises. I made my decision.

It's Monday, 7th of November 2011 - Verde Mare, South of Italy.

Kids, make sure your rooms are clean as Daddy returns home.
To be honest I really don't know how to do this, but I got 12 Euros in my pocket and still five shoots of the emergency signal. I think I will find a solution.

In case the net can help - I carry my mobile at my belly: 004915772378963 - Attack!