Vlaamse Yachthaven Nieuwpoort Marina, Belgium

When our halyard snapped suddenly (crack!) as we rolled downwind from Eastbourne to Dover along the south coast of England, Gero grabbed the boom and quickly got control of our tumbling — now useless — mainsail, tying it down with bungie cords. We sailed onward with genoa alone, at half speed. When you’re sailing 11-12 hours a day, losing even a knot or two can stretch the journey past the point of comfort.

We were also experiencing battery issues on this second day ever on Star Mist, a 2017 Sirius 35DS that we bought from a meticulous weekend sailor close to Southampton. The frayed, weakened halyard arguably should have been caught in the rigging survey. And the master service batteries, mysteriously and suddenly drained — alarms ringing — despite no usage. Shouldn’t someone have caught these basics the many inspections? Woulda, coulda, shoulda! Too late.

With no mainsail and a dying battery, we called Annapolis School of Seamanship electric guru Bob Campbell from Dover, who magnanimously walked us through essential diagnostic tests over the phone. Realizing we had a calm day to get across the intimidating English Channel, we went for it. The seas calmed to a rare, almost gentle state. Upon arrival, the French in Dunkirk were very welcoming with condolences and delicious pastis, but informed us it would be a week before anyone could help us with our rigging, as a repair would involve climbing the mast.

The next morning we waved “Au revoir” and motor-sailed against 20-knot headwinds and bumpy four-foot waves to Nieuwpoort, Belgium. There, the shiny, new marinas, filled with Beneteaus and Hallberg-Rassys, were staffed by friendly Flemish. Even the border control officials — usually a dour lot — were professional and smiling! And then, two miracles in a row: we walked around a giant boatyard, up a red spiral staircase in an old warehouse, and met Sabine.

“No, we don’t send our staff up the mast anymore. If they fall, it’s lights out!” she said, shaking her head. But she said we could use the crane at the boat yard to be lifted up to the top of our mast to do the repair (DIY).

The staff expert, she said, was leaving on holiday Friday and extremely busy. Within a half hour, the expert, a tall, hippyish fellow with kind wrinkles around his eyes, said he would make the time for us. Sabine called to schedule the crane.

Stopping later at a chandlery, we asked the young man at the cash register if he knew any electricians. He brightened. “I am a boat electrician!” He said in perfect English. So voilà. Worth a try. Timothy will stop by late this afternoon to perform an examination. We knew the Belgians were lovely, but we didn’t expect so many guardian angels in our path. Mes chers amis, the adventure continues! 🇧🇪👍🤞❤️