Not all days follow the paths we envision. This reality became quite clear last Wednesday when our sights were set on departing from Deauville.

Our stay in Deauville had already extended to nearly 2 weeks. Just a few days earlier, our fellow travelers from the ship "Trolde Hans" had embarked on their journey to Cherbourg. With a sense of caution, we decided to prolong our stay for a couple of days, as the weather conditions were just beyond our comfort zone.

On Wednesday, as the sun began to rise (at 04:00), we were up early - only to discover once more that nature had its own plans, contradicting the assurances of the weather forecast. The expected 12-15 knots of wind had escalated well beyond 20 knots.

After resting for a few hours, the wind subsided, presenting us with an opportunity to set sail from the harbor. Deauville's harbor is nestled securely behind its lock gates. The security offered by these gates comes with pros and cons, demanding meticulous timing for arrivals and departures. To be exact, access and exit are possible from 2 hours prior to high tide until a maximum of 3 hours after.

Setting off 2 hours post-high tide, we navigated with ample keel clearance into the channel entrance, which stretched twice the length of our vessel - no more than 25 meters in width.

However, the interplay of currents, waves, tides, and the lingering inclement weather from preceding days orchestrated waves measuring 1.5 to 2 meters in the channel. Despite conquering the initial two waves, we suddenly found ourselves grounded in a wave trough, not once but repeatedly. The vessel came to an abrupt halt three times. With swift acceleration, the boat surged forward, freeing us from the predicament, though our nerves were rattled.

Moments later, the engine started to falter. Disconcerting vibrations reverberated from the propeller, and the engine's RPM wavered. As I manipulated the sails to steer the boat away from the coastline, Betina provided comfort to our three children.

Pushed toward the shore by an onshore breeze and simultaneously pulled by the current, it became undeniably evident that we couldn't depend on the engine to move ourselves from this situation.

In a quick decision, we promptly reached out to the local Coast Guard through VHF. Keeping a continuous dialogue, we cautiously increased the distance between us and the coast, while they dispatched a rescue vessel. Within 35 minutes of our initial call, their ship arrived. Departing from Le Havre, they rapidly approached us at 25 knots.

Two highly skilled rescuers, fully equipped, swiftly boarded our vessel. Outfitted in wetsuits, helmets, headlamps, and backpacks laden with rescue gear, their swim fins were securely fastened to their belts. Taking control, they adeptly attached a tow line, guiding us to the safety of Le Havre's harbor, where we secured our berth.

The enigma, however, persisted - what had caused these events? Sea vegetation and aged fishing lines, each about the size of a pair of footballs, had become tangled in the propeller and shaft. Swiftly resolving the issue, a brief dive into the harbor waters allowed us to disentangle the propeller and shaft. Remarkably, no harm had befallen the keel, hull, or any other parts of our vessel.

Now, three days later, we reflect on an experience that will undoubtedly linger in our memories. While we have a few photographs of the incident, these rare snapshots eloquently convey the narrative.

Presently, we find ourselves in Cherbourg, continuing our journey with its enthralling tale.