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I will arrive at the Great Barrier Reef early tomorrow morning on the 21st of July. The wind seems to have been constantly building over the days, and judging by the conditions, I would say that it is near gale force, and stronger in the frequent squalls. The seas have piled up to 5m, and waves are breaking all around me. As another squall passes the wind tears white foamy streaks of spindrift from the tops of the waves and a breaking wave slams into the side of Kai sending us sliding sideways down into the trough. The wind is a constant howl in the rigging, and I have had to reduce sail down to just a small jib, but still I am driven towards the reef at over 5kn. If you decide to make a life at sea, bad weather is something that you just have to learn to live with. What you don't normally do though is sail hell for leather towards the nearest and biggest pile of rocks that you can find, and again I ask myself if I am doing the right thing. Once more I go below and re-check my calculations. My greatest fear is severe conditions at the reef. Once on the other side it will be all plain sailing. I have decided that this night I will get as much rest as I can. I haven't seen a ship for the last 2 days, and I am 95% certain that, considering where I am, there is not another boat for well over a 100 miles. Before I take my final rest before the moment of truth, I turn my face to the wind, and ask Ocean and Sky if they could maybe just ease up a little before the morning. I awake two hours prior to my ETA, and as the last miles tick by I have a breakfast of lots of coffee and way to many cigarettes. As I roll the first one I notice that I am shaking. 5 miles from the Yule passage it is still quite dark, so I hove to and await, if not for the sun, at least for the sun's light to fill the sky. In the pail light, it seems to me that the bigger waves are much more infrequent now, with less of them breaking, and so in the grey dawn, I set sail once more and head towards the reef. As I approach closer I begin to see the immense towers of spray, as the waves that have marched for countless mile beat out their last tattoo on the rocks of the Great Barrier Reef. All around me I can make out the grey sheets of squall rain, though none of it comes near me. Suddenly, there is a beautiful little grey sea bird flying beside me so close, that I could reach out and touch it, and it seems to be looking straight at me, Then taking one turn around Kai, it lands about one foot away from me. As it regards me with its deep brown white rimmed eyes, tilting its head to one side, the feeling creeps over me that everything will be okay. After sitting with me for a few minutes during the final approach, it took flight once more, and after making three more passes around Kai, continued on its way, and I, with a steady hand now, entered the Yule Passage. ON DAYS LIKE TODAY, YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE ALIVE!