Here's a little story from a few years ago...
Written by HeadHunter (at the bottom is my responce)

Monday, July 23, 2007
I shouldn't be alive.
"The ocean moans over dead men's bones." - Thomas B. Adrich

Saturday morning began like most, waking up at the beach house to prepare for another glorious day of sailing. Unlike most, I declined the company of several sailing partners in favor of just going out alone. I wanted one of those Zen-like moments where it's just you, the boat, and the wind.

I got a little more than I bargained for.

The weatherman was calling for 10 knots from the north, then clocking around south west in the late afternoon with a negligible chance of storms. I've come to conclude the weatherman doesn't know his dick from a hole in the ground.

So I tottled out the beach, rigged Dundee and set off for Three Rooker Bar which is about seven miles north of Dunedin Causeway, with my buddy Andy on his Hobie 18 in pursuit. The trip there was absolutely beautiful. Just enough wind to barely get the hull up on a close reach, and for about an hour, all the bullshit that supersedes daily living just slipped away. No thoughts of bills, failed relationships, work stress, IRS problems, or anything. All that shit evaporated the moment I jumped on the boat.

We arrived at Three Rooker and had a few cold ones while making lewd comments about average-looking chicks. You know, the typical shit that spews forth from two impetuous single guys who refuse to grow up. Then I noticed a rather large system developing about 10 miles to the west.

"Dude, we need to start working our way back to the Causeway."

"Holy shit, that sucker's big. Good idea."

And off we went. The sail back was absolutely beautiful because by the time we rounded Honeymoon Island, the wind had picked up to a solid 18-20 knots. (That's roughly 23mph for those of you not in the know). We both made it back under good time and beached by our vehicles under gray skies. At the same time, other boats started to return as well.

Within minutes, conditions worsened. And when I say "worsened," I mean "it got really fucking nasty really fucking fast." The clouds over Caladesi Island were a hue of pitch black previously unknown to mankind. The seas had developed from a light chop to solid rolling white caps. It was then that I knew what I had to do.

I had to sail in this shit.

"Andy, roll up your sail and put on your harness, we're going out." He obliged, and throwing caution and heedless warnings from other sailors, we headed out on Dundee.

It's almost impossible for me to paint an accurate picture, but you have to understand, the sea wasn't angry that day. It was fucking PISSED. Lightening everywhere. Solid 25-30 knot winds with gusts well exceeding that. Wisps of black cumulonimbus clouds threw giant fingers down at us, just waiting to develop into tornadoes or water spouts.

But I didn't give a shit. Andy was on the wire and I was driving the fucking snot out of the boat. The deck of the bow was only an inch from the waterline as a huge 15 foot rooster tail shot off the front of the boat. The wake coming off the leeward rudder was reminiscent of a Baja Outlaw under full throttle.

We were hauling fucking ass. In over 15 years of racing catamarans in all kinds of conditions, I've never been that fast under sail before.

So we tacked around and headed back for a show-off run up the beach, fueled on a heroin-like adrenaline rocketing threw my veins. I was Lieutenant fucking Dan, fist in the air, screaming "Is that the best you've got? Come get me motherfucker!!!"

God answered and the sky roared.

A gust of wind hit us like a fucking anvil and we immediately blew both sails. It got to the point where I simply couldn't control the boat anymore and all my senses went from Yippie Kay Aye to Holy Shit, I may not make it through this one.

Somehow I managed to beach the boat about a hundred yards from the trailer and it took Andy and I everything we had to get the sails down without the boat doing cartwheels down the beach.

After helping everyone else break down, I immediately went back to my truck, grabbed a beer and a smoke, and sat for a few minutes to collect myself. Until that moment, I never knew it was possible to be both simultaneously high on life, and completely scared shitless. Yet at the same time, there's something liberating about looking death reckoning in the eyes and saying "give me your best shot, asshole."

About 20 minutes later the winds and the lightening subsided a bit and I walked over to a truck where a group of friends/sailors were talking. As I approached, their eyes went white and grew three times larger, as if they were staring at an apparition.

Tyler Durden said it best. "Once you've lost everything, you're free to achieve anything."

Postscript: The boat is only mildly damaged and you bet your bippy I'm sailing next weekend.

------

Well this is almost accurate!

I recall when we first noticed the storm blowing in, and you said, "if we were smart.... we would head back now!" and I then replied... I agree.... lets have another drink or 3!!!

You also forgot to mention my beautiful Jib (RIP) that didn?t make it through the storm... and the screaming and chaos on the beach trying to secure everyone?s boats and trying to drop masts.

We didn?t land 100 yards from your truck... we landed 1000 yards from your truck

And lastly.... don?t forget that after the storm passed we both walked toward your boat to survey the damage and recover your vessel and God once again showed up he was the boss by shooting a the most gynormous lightning bolt that went from the North Pole to The South Pole... Without saying a word we both did an about face in perfect synchronization that would have earned a 10.0 in the Olympics?

THAT WAS LIVING? even though I lost my Jib Sail (and a perfectly good pair of underware?.) I was amazed at our speed?. And would do it again?. As Jimmi Hendrix said, ?If its my time, I aint afraid of dying!? ? and nothing happened to him??.. ummmmmm

Posted by andrew on Tuesday, October 02, 2007 - 9:47 AM

Great story Andrew.

Did I ever tell you the one where I broke a daggerboard on the Dunedin Causway rocks and almost drowned my dad, all without ever getting on the boat? Got caught in a sudden rising storm while launching the boat, it was the first year I had a catamaran in the early 1990's

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Damon Linkous
1992 Hobie 18
Memphis, TN

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no, i didn't know that.

I hit my h18 daggarboards in the sand many times (and peter-pan'd or flipped from it) this was a big part in my moving to a cat with centerboards.

they no longer allow boats in the part of the causeway where there are rocks. they are swimming areas now and the cats have to launch at the end of the causeway. It would be prefect if all the kayacks would give us room... but they don't...