Many a good yarn at the yacht club bar starts out with the universal intro, ‘There I was…’. To guarantee continued attention, this is best followed by ‘… and the waves were 40ft high’, but if drama on this scale floats your boat, the account below will fail miserably. This month’s opening gambit is a less-than-thrilling, ‘There I was, enjoying a beam reach in full sail across flat water on a lovely summer’s afternoon.’ In fairness, the Force 4 had been gusting up a bit and a nasty-looking cloud bearing down from the wind’s eye seemed to have my name on it, but I’d just been handed up a mug of tea and I was comfortable at the helm, so I sat tight.
The sea to windward didn’t suddenly turn white as it does for a real stinger of a squall. It went black instead, indicating a reasonably serious
