So long, New Caledonia. Australia, here we come. It’s March 9, 2022. At exactly six in the morning, I weigh anchor and set sail from the bay of Port Moselle in the capital of Noumea.
 
At the beginning the conditions were nearly perfect. A light breeze, code zero fully unfurled and the main all the way to the top. Alone on the boat. Busy doing absolutely nothing. I am still sailing but the wind is dying down, so I crank up both Yanmars to contribute to the speed of the boat.
On the third day at night a stiff southerly starts blowing and the waves are getting bigger and steeper. I don't risk reefing in the mainsail at night, so I steer the boat more downwind to avoid the waves pounding and crashing into the hull of the boat.
When daylight comes, I reef in the genoa and mainsail and steer the boat again more upwind towards my final destination - Brisbane. I soon realize that my catamaran is unable to sail upwind sufficiently to reach Brisbane. I have to find a landfall further north - Bundaberg.
After six days of sailing, I am seriously approaching the Australian coast. To the left is Fraser Island and in front of me Harvey Bay. At the bottom of the bay lies Bundaberg with its marina and anchorage in the mouth of the river.
The wind is rising. In a thirty-knot southerly wind I reef in both sails and motor-sail upwind towards the port of Bundaberg. It's getting dark. Two miles from my destination I lower both sails and motor straight into the wind to reach the channel that leads to the mouth of the river and a sheltered anchorage. I give both Yanmars full throttle but the boat doesn't move forward one inch. I call the marina on channel 16 and request a tug boat to tow me to the anchorage.
Suddenly I get a brilliant idea. I start zigzagging towards the channel and after an hour of struggling against the heavy swell and wind I reach it. Since there is no crew aboard, I say to myself: Dam good job, Marjan.
As I reach the mouth of the river, the wind drops as if someone closed the window. I call the marina and tell them that I don't need assistance anymore. "No problem. We follow your AIS signal and see where you are, ” is their reply.
I drop anchor at the marina. It's almost midnight. After two sleepless nights I can’t sleep: the adrenaline won't let me.
I reached Australia after six days of single-handed sailing. Finally. The Pacific Ocean is conquered.
Lesson learned: Single-handed sailing can be a very pleasant and rewarding experience, if the conditions are favorable, if not ideal. But when the going gets tough, a crew is much appreciated.