Part 2

Our plan B was to go back to Brest as there was nowhere closer and many of the western French ports are notoriously difficult to enter due to the sea and currents. 

We decided to return to Brest. About 100 nautical miles. Against the wind and current we had to motor, but we were in no state to be putting sails up and down anyway. Progress was slow and it was hard work steering into the breaking waves. That night we 'hove to' again. Exhausted. The auto pilot had stripped the threads of the screw holes holding it onto the steering pedestal, so no chance of fixing that when your being pounded by waves.
We managed to get some rest. Alison was comatosed in the aft cabin, I lowered the saloon table by 6 inches to stop me being thrown off the sofa when that kind of wave hit, about every 15 seconds.
The next morning, looking at the chart plotter, we had lost nearly all the ground we had covered the day before. 

Looking at maps, currents, the chart plotter was beyond us. We both felt that ill.

I dispared.

 After a nights rest Alison was up and about and climbed behind the wheel 

'don't worry pet, I'll get you home' - I love that woman.

We took turns on the helm. With the cold and the waves regularly crashing over the bow soaking us, we could only manage half an hour stints. 

Alison's hands were bitterly cold and her deck hand cut finger gloves were no comfort once they got wet. I was a little better prepared, with Gill neoprene winter warm gloves. They act like a wet suit but with little activity helming, you can't generate any body heat, but they take the edge off.

When the waves crashed over the bow, we regularly got a face full of cold salty water that continued to stream from the boom and untidily dropped mainsail, that we couldn't tie up because it was too dangerous to go on deck. Even with our offshore sailing suits, the water found its way down our necks.

We put more clothes under our waterproofs and remembered a tip from David Williams, our RYA classroom instructor, whom recommended a beer towel around the neck. We didn't have any beer towels. Tea towels we did have and that made a difference.

We saw plenty of Dolphins that cheered us up along the way. Most remarkably in the night where they glowed in the dark. Something to do with phosphorescent I think. I'll have to google it. 
The sea got bigger and rougher. We remembered what a fellow Hunter owner at Falmouth had told us about riding at an angle down breaking waves instead of whalloping over them and that helped considerably. To spur us on I put on some of our favorite music, loudly through the cockpit speakers. Mostly Yngwie Malmsteen - hot and heavy - this made the time pass quicker and keep our minds off our aching backs from steering.
We still got water over the top though and as it came over the companion way hatch, it streamed into the cabin. I think there is some sort of seal missing there.
Checking the distance we had covered and how far there was to go I realised that we weren't going fast enough. So on with the revs. 

The cabin filled with black smoke so we slowed down again. Alison took the helm as I went down to have a look. Maybe an exhaust clamp needed tightening. I could find nothing wrong. Speeding up again all was fine. Maybe we got a wave up the exhaust pipe ?

Nearing the French coast that evening we were hailed by a French Coast Guard cutter asking our destination etc. They wished us well with permission to continue.

Come nightfall we switched on the running lights. The bow navigation light had stopped working. I could see no red and green reflected on the anchor. Probably taken by the sea. On with the Tri colour at the top of the mast. Your only supposed to use this if your under sail but needs must.

Approaching land the engine revs started lowering then raising again. After an hour of this the engine packed in.