The last time I checked, there were slightly more than six billion people on the planet. Even given the fact that most of them are in India and China, it's still quite amazing that I can spend nine days without seeing a single one of them apart from the three with whom I share this cleverly built shell of fiber glass and steel.

Yesterday I had a feeling the time had come for a brief encounter with one or two of the other six billion. In the evening I listened in to a radio transmission called 'Southbound II', otherwise known as 'Herb's  net'.  Herb is a Canadian weather forecaster and radio ham who transmits daily meteorological reports to sailing yachts in the Atlantic and Caribbean. Yachts at sea call in  reporting their position, destination and current weather. Herb then consults satellite imagery and synoptic charts before replying with a forecast for the coming days. Among sailors this is known as weather routing; having accurate weather data before altering course to get the most out of  the wind and avoid storms and calms. Herb has a nice voice which inspires confidence and his forecasting ability is highly respected.

Now back to the other six billion.

On Herb's  net I heard a yacht called 'Wind Machine' call in and give a position less than fifty miles from ours and a course which would bring them across our track.  A quick look at the charts and some mental arithmetic and I predicted that, if they stayed on course, we might see them some during the night. I  told  Nirit, Gabriella and Shmulik  to keep a sharp lookout on the horizon to the north.

At 02:15 Gabriella shouted through the hatch, "I have a problem and I need Chris on deck quick."  I stumbled out of  bed and into a lifejacket. Gabriella was pointing directly ahead of us.        

"I've got a ship, "she said, " I can't make out the lights but it's huge and we're on a collision course."

She was absolutely correct. There was a vessel dead ahead of us and it wasn't 'Wind Machine'  or any other yacht. It was huge. I could make out a red, port-side running light, a pair of white steaming lights and a cluster of smaller lamps.

"I've got him on the radar and he's three miles away, what are we going to do?" There was some tension in her voice.

 I assumed this ship  would be steaming at fifteen knots. We were making five and a half. The three mile gap was going to close within minutes. What's the chance of a handfull from the other six billion turning up on this bit of ocean, right at this minute, and running us down?

I tried the VHF on the distress and safety channel, "Motor vessel, motor  vessel this is the sailing yacht ahead of you, how copy? Over."

Silence.

I switched on our deck light which illuminates the headsail, making us easier to see and demonstrating that we are a sail boat and have right of way.

The ship's crew  responded by turning a searchlight on. I could  now see that it would pass safely ahead of us on our port side. But the searchlight caused me to  panic. Fishing trawlers often use a searchlight directed astern to warn you they have a net behind them.  It's like saying, "Look here, I've got a pair of steel cables stretched out two miles astern, if you don't change course they'll slice you in half and I wont feel a thing."

Time to change course?

Then the radio  comes to life, "Happy new year little sailing boat, happy new year!" The voice sounded like the owner had been at the grog and I could here party noises in the background.

My turn. "Motor vessel from sailing yacht Passepartout. Happy new year to  you too! Where are you headed?"

"This is  motor tanker Frederic, our destination is Abidjan. Happy new year"

Me. "Ok have a pleasant watch. Listening out channel sixteen"

We were now alongside each other and I could hear their engines. The tanker quickly slipped away eastwards. The political crisis in Abidjan had been the lead story on the BBC World Service earlier in the evening; two hundred people dead from gunfire and over one thousand wounded. 

Some time later the horizon behind us was illuminated with bright red light. It took me a few moments to realise this was the crew of the tanker marking the first minute of 2011 with outdated distress flares. It was 0300 UTC but they were marking midnight where?  Probably their last port of call where they loaded the oil, Maracaibo Venezuela? Curacao?

Within an hour we made out a light on the northern horizon. I was sure this would turn out to be 'Wind Machine'  but it was Nirit's watch and I left her to keep an eye on it. She eventually made contact and discovered the light belongs to a yacht called 'Olivia', three people on board and heading for Barbados. We've had visual contact with them all day.

In the middle of the morning we had our third encounter, a small cargo ship with trucks and excavators visible on deck overtook us heading south west. No, sharing a planet with another six billion you can never be completely alone for long.