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I'm in the Coral Sea trimming sails on a 24ft yacht in huge swells and I'm wondering if I've bitten off more than I can chew. How did I end up here? It was my mother's idea to hire a yacht and sail from Airlie Beach to the Whitsunday's. I'd told her that I would happily sail her around the islands. The intention was to sail from Airlie beach straight to Hamilton Island but things didn't go to plan. After checking our position, I jumped on the radio and `checked in' advising that we would be anchoring at Daydream Island for the night. We're not even half-way to Hamilton Island. I drop the anchor in to the most crystal clear water and white sand I've ever seen. I can't wipe the smile off my face but at the same time instantly feel awkward. I feel uncoordinated and off-centre as my feet stand on firm ground. It makes me wonder what it is like for those adventurous ones who sail around the world non-stop. I don't think a single person noticed that we arrived. Standing on the beach collecting ourselves we hear music in the distance and start the awkward and off-balance walk up the beach. A few salty-looking old fellas are having a yarn over a few coldies and still I feel un-noticed. I approach the bar of this island pub, introduce myself and ask for whatever is cold. After revealing our adventure and intentions to get to Hamilton Island, the barman tells us tomorrows forecast which looks to be in our favour and hands me some more coldies to take back to the boat. I barely slept. I can't remember the last time I had slept on a boat, have I slept on a boat before? The water lapped constantly against the hull, I lay still, listening, wondering, will we drift off in the middle of the night? Was it low or high tide? Will we run aground? Are there pirates? Sunrise. The sea is flat and the wind is lacking. I'm only running the mainsail as the seas were too rough for me to handle the day before. There's a change in wind direction and I'm working hard to get the yacht in to the Hamilton Island. After an hour of juggling ropes I jump on the radio and put out a call. A crackle comes through followed by a cheery voice asking our vessel name, location, and situation. We're drifting close to reef near Hamilton Island. Moments later a luxury craft comes powering from out of nowhere and offers us a hand, towing us in to the Marina. For the next few days on Hamilton Island we will be known as the sailors that needed a tow. Everyone knew our names.