Winds have been fickle since we lost North Foreland below the horizon. Thanet wind farm presented a major obstacle directly in our path, so as the viz was much improved we elected to sail through the middle of it - a surprisingly spooky experience. Phot follows.

Wednesday's winds were wearsomely weak. By 1100 it had deserted us completely, so the donk was reverted to. But Auntie Judith's Cornish fairings, together with Rosalie's flapjacks kept morale high. Come midnight, we had 220 miles left to run to Thyboren , but with faltering winds ETA probably now Saturday. But the sun shines, the night sky unblemished, and the crew top notch. Wonderful!