On land there are several clues giving away the approaching dawn. Birds start chirping in the darkness, giving a wake up call to the other early risers. Animals that feed at dawn start to stir, making small noises. At sea there were no clues whatsoever. Perhaps the darkness of the night changed, the depth of blackness became less impenetrable. Features that remained invisible during the night started to emerge. This was particularly true for the angrily raging, sea all around us. The darkness of the night prevented me from seeing the huge breaking waves, giving me a false sense of security. Pushed by the front, the water from the Adriatic Sea was rushing down towards Africa and built up in the strait between Sicily and Greece, creating waves up to three metres high. It never failed to amaze me how quickly waves can build up to dangerous heights in the Mediterranean. But Fenix, undeterred by the confused sea, was bravely cutting through all those white crests in front of us, giving me confidence in her ability to deliver us safely to shore. After I got used to seeing all those wild white horses around me, I noticed a pale pink on the eastern horizon. The pink became pale orange, then red, and suddenly the first ray of the sun hit the surface of the water, passing a warm welcoming flicker across my face. I hardly had time to adjust my eyes before the sun god Helios in his full glorious brightness emerged to welcome another day.