Back to Roots

So the circular winds went their way once more, and took us through Rio, Cape Town, Paris, Vinay... However, we had a choice, so we changed our destiny to Belgium, the land of 365 beer brands, and the most famous comics of the world. But our landmark was not Brussels, city of manons and chocolate smell on the streets, or the idyllic Bruges, but Niewpoort aan Zee. You can only find one thing there - The North Sea, with many many boats.
The brown North Sea is imposing. Aboard Alibi, a Jeanneau Melody, let by its owner  Jacques Quesnoit, we went to Brittany. The fog there is no legend - you can cut it with a knife. For a whole day, we weren't able to see the bow on the 10 meter yacht. Since we didn't have a radar, nor a GPS, or sight, we counted on our flair. It didn't work, though: once we had to go about in a hurry, after we saw waves breaking on some beach, and another time a HUGE ship horn buzzed my heart out of the chest cavity, and the fear of drowning in those waters was so strong, I had to swallow to send it back to its place. 
We stopped at awesome Brest, a land were you experience 5 meter tides and delicious oysters. It is very representative of the Brittany of resistance, the Celt's promised land.
It felt just like Uderzo's and Goscinny's Great Crossing.

So to end the great circle, we returned to our father land - Portugal. We fished a shark while towing a lure behind the boat, and she seemed quite drowned. With a great deal of caution, we removed both hooks she had on her mouth and returned her to sea.
Cause that's where its creatures belong: in their nature.