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Big Freakin' Sails

593K views 3K replies 293 participants last post by  smackdaddy 
#1 ·
Okay - this thread is for people that ACTUALLY LIKE Big Freakin' Sails (note for morons: the verb, not the noun). BFS simply means sailing that pushes limits - whatever those limits may be. And herein lies the rub...and the reason I need to explain a couple of things so people don't start foaming at the mouth right off the bat.

There has been a tremendous amount of hubbub over this "philosophy" in another thread - but that thread apparently "came with a lot of baggage" - to the point that the topic itself got lost in the fog of war. So, this is an attempt to start cleanly.

It must be understood that the love for the adventure and excitement of hard sailing is just as valid and robust in the newbie as it is in the big-sailing old salt. The gap between the two is experience and knowledge. And the goal here is not to fill that gap by quashing the spirit of adventure and excitement with a deluge of cynicism and technicality - but to help us all learn, if and when the time comes, how to better handle that moment when mother nature starts rising beyond our sailing abilities. Because if you keep sailing - it will happen, period. And as you'll see, it can get very frightening very quickly.

For an old salt, these limits will obviously be worlds beyond those of the typical newbie. That old salt will probably snicker at the point at which the newbie becomes terrified - understandably so. Yet, there will inevitably be an even more seasoned salt that will, in turn, snicker at the snickerer when he/she soils his/her own breeches in a blow. It's all subjective and un-ownable.

Therefore, the BFS factor of a newbie experiencing a hard heel and wayward helm for the very first time is just as exciting, important, and valuable (in BFS terms) as the old salt battling a 50 knot gale. It's just about the attitude with which the exploit is approached and remembered - and taken into account as they go back out for more. There are great stories and valuable lessons in both experiences - as well as great opportunities for good hearted slams on the brave posters (which is valuable as well). That's BFS.

So, to be clear this thread is JUST AS MUCH FOR THE SAILING NEWBIE (of which I am one) as it is for the old salt. It's a place to tell your story, listen to others', learn some lessons, and discuss the merits or detractions of Big Freakin' Sails.

The following inaugural BFS stories illustrate what this thread is all about. As I said, I'm a newbie - and you see my first BFS story below. You can then compare that with the other great BFS stories thereafter (sometimes edited to protect the innocent) which I think are great tales from great sailors; they cover the spectrum of "pushing the limits". Then, hopefully, you'll throw down some BFS of your own (either your own story, stories you admire, or stories that are just flat-out lies but with great BFS value - whatever).

Now, let's have some fun...shall we?
 
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#2,436 ·
It’s a tough life Smack. On our Summer Sailstice open house this year, we had Oracle 76 on the race dock. The top sailors from the RSYC’s juniors program visited recently. One guy and the rest were comely blond girls in their late teens and early twenties. Needless to say, everyone enjoyed the swimming pool that weekend. The Swedish team has been really professional, most of the interactions have been locating housing and such. They occasionally use the pool during the weekdays. The rest of the time they are working in their compound up at the old Alameda NAS. I suspect as the main event gets nearer, more of them will start arriving and we will have more events with them. I am trying to figure out on how to score a ride on one of the 45s. No worries on that fiberglass repair. A little glass and little resin and it will buff right out!
 
#2,442 ·
If that's a fact then I'm onto my third or fourth circumnavigation ....

Well done Smack .... great writeup, look forward to Fiasco Goes Again.

So should we change your User Name to Smacked Daddy ?
 
#2,446 ·
Knowing that you are following the exploits of Couts and Spithill, can we expect more antics from Team Smack in the future? Good to read that you were able to get the little Smacklings on board before the end of the day – gives them a good positive ending and I am sure they want to go out again. A dumb question, why didn’t you walk the boat on a painter out to the T Dock and rig it there? You might want to find some vinyl stripping at an auto parts store as the cat is looking a little too “bananasque”. Have thought about naming it after those flying banshees in the Avatar movie? I think they were called something like ikran or toruk. Would make for a good graphic on the side. Seems apropos to me. How about a naming contest?
 
#2,447 ·
GB - We definitely should have taken it to the t-dock. At the time, it just seemed a lot more difficult than launching from the "beach". I had no problem sailing to and from the dock - so it definitely would have been the right move. Next time we'll know.

As for the striping - I wanted to wait to see if I banged anything up (and need to touch up the paint) before putting on the finishing touches. Turns out that was a pretty good move, eh?

The name is "Fiasco". It's just too perfect.
 
#2,450 ·
Hilarious write up Smacky Steve! I was nearly crying from laughing.
So you got scratched by your cat!?! Now you've got the fever!!!

All I can tell you is that you will NEVER have another launch like that. One trip to the humiliation zone is enough to make even the most dense of people figure out how to avoid going there in the first place.

Reminds me of a trip to the humiliation zone I experienced with a new to me 19' Lightning, not quite as fast as a beach cat but it is a planing hull.
First launch. Mid summer. It takes time to step the mast and ensure that everything is rigged nearly correctly on an unfamiliar boat.
We finally get under sail in Lloyd Harbor (near Huntington) just as the sky to the west is darkening. Crap, a thunderstorm. I had my wife, sister and nephew with me and the general consensus was to head back to the launch ramp as rain, lightning and thunder came on quickly.
We beached the Lightning and I had the presence of mind to lower the main sail. For some inexplicable reason I left the jib raised as we all headed for my car in a vain attempt to stay dry. As with most thunderstorms there came a front of wind that I noticed was moving the tree branches around outside my windshield. About this time I began to worry what the winds from the storm might do with the jib still deployed on the Lightning. I ran down to the beach only to see my new Lightning about 20 yards from shore sailing off on it's own. By now there were lightning strikes all around me that discouraged me from swimming after the boat so I went back to my car in humiliation.

Fifteen minutes later the front had passed and we could see my new Lightning (#11416) capsized about 200 yards away with it's mast stuck in the harbor mud. We swam out to the boat and tried to right it by standing on the center board but no joy. The mast was well stuck in the mud and it was just high tide.

Plan B called for waiting for the tide to go out and we brought pitch forks, shovels and other gardening implements down to the scene of humiliation. I had to dig about the top 6' of the mast out of the harbor intertidal zone. The tip of the mast must have been 3' deep in the muck. On the bright side we ended up with a few dozen hard and soft shelled clams that turned out to be delicious.

When the boat capsized the upturned hull faced the wind and general direction of the waves which pounded the hull and pushed the mast deeper and deeper into the mud. It is surprising how quickly a situation can go from the exhilaration zone to the humiliation zone.
 
#2,453 ·
While you guys are out adventuring and finding rocks and mud, I've endured a nearly non event sailing season with tourists who throw money at the boat.Other than the wet and cold June the sailing was great all summer. One highlight was the family who came with their matriarch in a wheel chair. I mentioned her in an earlier comment. Her last wish was to sail again and we scattered her ashes on the Salish Sea. No harsh weather, no breakdowns, just two or three daily departures with the appropriate returns and accompanying cannon fire at passing pirates.Now it's autumn and lighting the wood heater and cracking a 2liter jug of homebuilt vino is as good as it gets on the Thane. Sorry to bore you with the mundane but I wanted to put things in perspective.
 
#2,454 ·
Good point Capt Len.
I think BFS entries should be about that warm glow of satisfaction you get after being on your boat where you still feel the boat moving under your feet back on land, not trips to the "humiliation zone", however funny they may be in retrospect. Especially sails that you wanted to piss yourself on should be BFS material. Do we need to put a finer comb on this?

There already is a "Biggest bonehead move" thread somewhere on SN. I've posted to it a few times already. Should we use that old thread or start a new: "Sailing Trips From the Humiliation Zone" (STFHZ) thread?

Whadda' ya think?
 
#2,455 ·
Had I not enjoyed that awesome, hull-flying BFS after the initial Fiasco, I definitely would have put this one in the Bonehead thread.

As for the Humiliation Zone, I vote we keep CharlieC's Bonehead thread as HZ Central. That thing's a classic.

PS - My next ocean race is coming up on the 25th. Looks like it might be a spanker! Stay tuned!
 
#2,456 ·
Not sure of this is big enough but...

We were in port at Pentwater, MI, returning from Mackinac Island and the North Channel. It was Saturday morning. We had to get back to Chicago as most on board had to be at work on Monday. One couple lived in Milwaukee, the rest of us in Chicago.

The harbor there is very sheltered. Reports we were getting said 4-6 foot seas out of the north with winds steady at 15-20 knots. I was still kind of a newbie then, with less than 1,000 miles under my belt and mostly self-taught. The weather didn't seem all that bad. :rolleyes:

Two of us walked out to the beach. The wind was blowing hard. I grabbed a handful of sand and, to see how hard it was blowing, I threw it up in the air. The sand quickly vanished, straight south. I pondered the effectiveness of the test.

At that point on Lake Michigan, you probably have a couple hundred miles of open water to the north. Anyone who knows weather on the Great Lakes knows with the short swells and steep waves, the Great Lakes can become some of the most dangerous waters on earth in heavy weather. 10,000+ boats on the bottom will attest to that. I hadn't yet grasped that fact.

We were sailing a Columbia 45, more of a motorsailer than true sailboat. With its 45' mast, that may have turned out to be a good thing that day.

The "sand-in-the-air" test was to decide if we should reef the sails and if so how much? As I said, I was kind of a newbie. With its short mast, the main had only one reef point. We only had one foresail, our genoa.

The Columbia 45 was stoutly built, like a tank, and, with its 5' freeboard, we never buried the rails. I had become overly confident in the boat.

I made the decision not to reef. :eek:

We hanked on the genny and then motored out of the channel. Once out, we hoisted the sails and headed west for Milwaukee. As we got into deeper water and away from shore, the seas started building from 4' to 6' to 8' and up. And the wind speed increased.

I saw the rail bury for the first time.

We were about 5-10 miles out when I began to worry. No one else on board had any sailing experience and all relied upon me to make the right decisions. The wind speed varied between 20-30 knots. I walked to the mast, holding on tightly. I looked up and imagined the mast snapping. Once there, I eyed the bend from the base of the mast, then checked the tension on the stays. I was losing my confidence in the boat.

When I got back to the cockpit, I told the crew we weren't making the trip across the lake to Milwaukee today, a distance of about 80 miles. The pale-faced, white-knuckled crew didn't argue.

We turned south and headed for Muskegon. We sailed wing and wing trying all the while to keep the genoa from collapsing. We had no whisker pole.

Our speedo dial topped out at 12, far higher than the boat was capable of hitting under sail. As I stood at the wheel I saw the needle bury as a wave picked us up and pushed us forward. Then it dropped back to 6 knots as we fell off the back. We did that over and over.

I handed the wheel to a crew member and walked to the stern. I'm 5'7". As I stood there, looking at the waves that were racing to meet us, I had to look up to see the top of the wave. I couldn't see over them. Adding the 5' freeboard, I estimated them to be at least 12'.

Once we reached Muskegon, we dropped the genny but the wind was blowing so hard we couldn't get the main down. Our path had led us to less than a mile offshore. We were beginning to see whitecaps breaking dangerously. Turning into the wind again and exposing our beam to the now breaking waves seemed too risky. Finally I decided to sail her into the channel under main.

As we approached the breakwater, with our main eased fully, and still feeling the the winds from the north, I was shocked to see a number of small boats, probably fishermen, at the mouth of the channel, just idling there, looking out at the open water. That they were considering even going out told me they had no idea what was out there. Or maybe they were just crazy.

Once I committed to entering the channel, there was no going back. Shallow water was now to the north and south of us. But I knew the little boats would give me clearance. It appeared I was wrong.

One boat idled at the the mouth, disappearing beneath the waves and reappearing again at its peak. I put the engine in reverse to slow our speed. With main alone we were going 5 knots, with the engine in reverse. The powerboat, about 16', didn't move. I waved for him to move and sounded our horn. It had no effect. He just kept bobbing up and down in the swells as if we weren't there, disappearing and reappearing in the swells.

The guy at the helm just kept looking out to sea, as if trying to believe there was some hope he'd be able to fish that day, or maybe he just looking for an adrenaline rush. I kept getting closer. I couldn't stop and he wouldn't get out of the way. I thought a collision was inevitable.

I braced myself for impact when, less than a boat length away, he hit the throttle, spun around and raced back down the channel. I was both relieved and furious at the same time. :mad:

Once inside the channel, the wind died enough to lower the main. We docked there and stayed overnight. Everyone had to call their boss and say they wouldn't be back to work until Tuesday. We talked about that trip for years.
 
#2,458 ·
I guess this should be posted here. Contrary to other guys that have posted on sailnet their stories it seems to me that this one has done everything right...except one thing:

A big storm like that does not pass unnoticed, even more near the US coast. True, he was expecting a lot less and that the storm passed further away...but I have learned the hard way that you have to give a lot of latitude to weather reports and not hope that things happen like they say but that the storm that is passing near by can change of direction and that wind prevision of force 7 can easily turn on a force 10.

So be careful with the weather reports out there and expect always the worse.

On this case that seems the time for the passage was not the right one and not even all good seamanship and a well prepared boat could avoid the consequences of that small mistake.

s/v Sean Seamour II - the final log post after

tropical storm Andrea

May 12th 2007

This is the log of actions and events driven by the only subsequently named Sub-tropical Storm Andrea, leading to the sinking of s/v Sean Seamour II and the successful rescue of its entire crew on the early morning of May 7th 2007.

We departed from Green Cove Springs on the Saint Johns River in the early morning of May 2nd, 2007. Gibraltar was our prime destination with a planned stopover in the Azores for recommissioning and eventually fuel. The vessel, on its second crossing was fully prepared and some of the recent preparations done by Holland Marine and skipper with crew were as follows:

· Full rig check, navigation lights, new wind sensor, sheet and line check / replacement
· New autopilot, stuffing box and shaft seal, house battery bank, racor fuel filtering system
· Bottom paint, new rudder bearing and check, new auxiliary tiller, full engine maintenance
· Recertification of life raft and check of GPIRB (good to November 2007), update and replacement of all security equipment (PFDs, flares, medical, etc).

Although paper charts were available for all planned destinations, with increased dependence on electronic navigational aids, two computers were programmed to handle both the MaxSea navigation software (version 12.5) as well as the Iridium satphone for weather data (MaxSea Chopper and OCENS). A full electronic systems checkout and burn trial was done during the days prior to departure.

For heavy weather and collision contingencies cutter rigged Sean Seamour II was equipped with two drogues (heavy and light), collision mat, auxiliary electric pump, as well as extensive power tools to enable repairs at sea with the 2.4kva inverter. Operational process and use of this equipment was discussed at length with the crew in anticipation. Other physical process contingencies such as lashing, closing seacocks, companionway doors, etc. were equally treated.

The 7 day weather GRIBs downloaded almost daily from April 25th onwards showed no inconsistencies, with the two high and two low pressure systems fairly balanced over the western Atlantic. Only the proximity of the two low pressure systems seemed to warrant surveillance as the May 5th GRIB would indicate with a flow increase from the N,NO from 20 to 35 knots focused towards coastal waters.

Already on a northerly course some 200 nautical miles out, I maintained our navigational plan with a N,NE heading until increased winds warranted a more easterly tack planned approximately 300 nautical miles north of Bermuda towards the Azores.

Wind force increased about eight hours earlier than expected and later shifted to the NE reaching well into the 60 knots range by early afternoon, then well beyond as the winds shifted. Considering that we were confronted with a sustained weather system that was quite different from the gulf stream squall lines we had weathered previous days, by mid afternoon I decided to take appropriate protective measures.

From our last known position approximately 217 nautical miles east of Cape Hatteras I reversed course, laying my largest drogue off the starboard stern while maintaining a quarter of the storm jib on the inner roller furl. This was designed to balance the boat's natural windage due in large part to its hard dodger and center cockpit structure.

By late afternoon the winds were sustained at well over 70 knots and seas were building fast. I estimate seas were well into 25 feet by dusk but after adding approximately 150 feet of drogue line the vessel handled smoothly over the next eight hours advancing with the seas at about 6 knots (SOG). By late evening the winds were sustained above 74 kts and a crew member recorded a peak of 85.5 kts.

Growing and irregular seas were the primary concern as in the very early hours of the morning the boat was increasingly struck by intermittent waves to its port side. Crew had to be positioned against the starboard side as both were tossed violently across the boat. Water began to accumulate seemingly fed through the stern engine-room air cowls. I believe in retrospect the goosenecks were insufficient with the pitch of larger waves as they were breaking onto the stern.

At approximately 02.45 hours we were violently knocked all the way down to starboard. It appears that the resulting angle and tension may have caused the drogue line to rupture (clean cut), perhaps as it rubbed against the same engine-room air-intake cowl positioned just below the cleat. The line was attached to the port side main winch then fed through the cleat where it was covered with anti-chaffing tape and lubricant. Before abandoning ship I noticed the protected part of the line was intact and extended beyond the cleat some five inches. Its position in the cleat rather than retracted from it also supports this theory.

After the knockdown I knew there was already structural damage and that we had lost control of the vessel. I pulled the GPIRB (registered to USCG documented Sean Seamour II) but I suspect that the old EPIRB from 1996 (Registered to USCG documented Lou Pantaï, but kept as the vessel was sold to an Italian national in 1998) might have been automatically launched first. I kept this unit as a redundancy latched in its housing on the port side of the hard dodger; it may have been ejected upon the first knockdown as Coast Guard Authorities questioned relatives with this vessel name versus Sean Seamour II. Herein lies a question that needs to be answered, hopefully it will be in light of the USCG report.

The GPIRB initially functioned but the strobe stopped and the intensity of the light diminished rapidly to the extent that I do not know if the Coast Guard received that signal. At the time were worried the unit was not emitting and I re initiated the unit twice. The unit sent for recertification with the life raft a few weeks prior had been returned from River Services. They had responded to Holland Marine that the unit was good until this coming November, functioned appropriately, and that the battery had an extra five year life expectancy. I will await reception of the Coast Guard report to find out if one or both signals was processed as all POCs were questioned regarding Lou Pantaï and not my current vessel Sean Seamour II (both vessels had been / in the case of Sean Seamour II is US Coast Guard documented).

As all communications excepting hand held VHF were down (SSB antennae on backstay, DSC VHF down and backup antennae inaccessible, Iridium soaked in roll, GPIRB not functioning, EPIRB seemingly lost to sea when hard dodger sheared) too much time was dedicated to hailing over the hand held VHFs and attempting to re-initialize the GPRIB). Had I cut the rig, dumped the 150 yards of chain in the bow, plugged the deck through mast passage and rerouted the rule pumps through the deck air cowl vents, we could have jump started the engine, deployed a second drogue with the sixty yards of stern anchor chain and regained control of the vessel. But that critical time window was lost

Expecting worse to come I re-lashed and locked all openings and the companionway. At 02:53hours we were struck violently again and began a roll to 180 degrees. As the vessel appeared to stabilize in this position I unlocked the companionway roof to exit an see where the life raft was. It had disappeared from its poop deck cradle which I could directly access as the helm and pedestal had been torn away. When I emerged to the surface against the boat's starboard (in righted port position) it began its second 180 degree roll. As it emerged the rig was almost longitudinal to the boat barely missing the stern arch. Spreaders were arrayed over cockpit and port side, mast cleanly bent at deck level, fore stays apparently torn away.

I ordered the crew to start all pumps. By their own volition they also cut out 2.5 gallon water bottles to enable physical bailing while I continued to locate the life raft. It finally appeared upside down under the rig. As its sea anchors and canopy lines were entangled in the rig and partially torn by one of the spreaders I decided to cut them away in an effort to save time and effort. I needed the crew below and had to manage the rig entanglement alone. This done I managed to move the unit forward and use its windward position to blow it over the bow to starboard, attaching it still upside down.

Below, water was being stabilized above the knees. The new higher positioned house battery bank was not shorted by the water level but the engine bank was flooded not enabling us to start the engine and pump from the bilge instead of the seacock. In retrospect this was not a loss as having to keep one of the companionway doors off for bailing and to route the Rule pump pipe, the water pouring in from here and the through-deck mast hole were no match for the impeller' volume. Plugging the mast passage was also not a solution as it was moving and hitting violently against the starboard head wall and was dangerous to try to cope with.

I knew the situation was desperate but it was still safer to stay aboard than to abandon ship, let alone in the dark any earlier than necessary. Estimating daylight at about 05:30 hours, we needed to hold on for at least another two hours. As the boat shifted in the waves it became increasingly vulnerable to flooding from breaking waves. One such wave at about 05:20 added about 18 inches of water, as the bow was now barely emerged these two factors triggered my decision to abandon ship. I exited first knowing that the raft was still upside down. In addition, some of the canopy lines still needed to be cut from the rig entanglement. In the precipitation the grab bag containing Iridium phone, VHF, GPS and all our personal and ship documents was lost.

As we boarded the now upturned raft it immediately flooded with the breaking waves and once unprotected from the wind by the hull structure was prone to turn over (no sea anchors nor canopy to roll over on). Hypothermia was already gaining upon one of my crew and myself and our efforts to right and re-enter the raft drained strength. Periods spent lying on the overturned raft exposed to the wind seemed to further weaken us.

Sean Seamour II sank a few minutes after we abandoned ship fully disappearing from view after the second wave crest.

We became aware of fixed wing overflight sometime between 06:00 and 07:00 hours and estimate that the Coast Guard helicopter arrived some time around 08:30 hours. As seemingly the most affected by hypothermia and almost unconscious the crew had me lifted out first. It was a perilous process during which Coast Guard AST2 Dazzo was himself injured (later to be hospitalized with us). The life raft was destroyed and abandoned by AST2 Dazzo as the third crew member was extracted. He also recouped the GPIRB which remained in USCG custody.

The emotions and admiration felt by my crew and myself to the dedication of this Coast Guard team is immeasurable, all the more so when hearing them comment on the severity and risk of the extraction, perhaps the worst they had seen in ten years (dixit SAT2 Dazzo). They claim to have measured 50 plus foot waves which from our perspective were mountains. We measured after the first knockdown and before loosing our rig winds still in excess of 72 knots.

Also to be commended are the medical teams involved, from our ambulatory transfer of custody from the rescue team to the personnel awaiting us at Cherry Point Naval Hospital. There the personnel under Director for Administration CDR Robert S. Fry sought not only to address our physical and medical trauma, but preempted the humanitarian crisis we were facing after all this loss and anguish by bringing in the disaster relief assistance of the American Red Cross to whom we owe the clothes, shelter and food that helped us survive this or
deal.

....
 
#2,464 ·
Just got back from a very nice off-shore overnighter, delivering the boat I race on back to it's home marina. 150 miles from Port A to Galveston. We saw more unlit rigs on this trip than on any previous runs - freakin' scary. Also got hit by a squall with full sails up and 6'-8' seas - but only got a wet rail and a top trip speed of 11.8 knots to show for it. Good times!

What sucks is that I missed out on the race this boat was in last weekend; the Harvest Moon Regatta. They got hit by a norther with a solid 30+ knots for 8 hours. They had a blast - and kept reminding me of that fact as we brought the boat back. Bastards. BUT - they had a DNF due to some trouble at the finish.

Anyway, write up and pics coming soon.
 
#2,470 ·
Look at this bad boy...
...5 towers for ramming, catwalks between them for dismasting, all completely dark at night.
I suppose it's all your fault if you hit one of these boat killers. Are they marked on any charts? If they require lights for towers on land so planes won't hit them, why not on these rigs? Something's stinks about this.

I know! Let's wait until some unsuspecting boater hits one and there is loss of life. :mad:
 
#2,469 ·
How in heavens name can they be allowed to be unlit ? (Med ... this applies to the Oz ones as well btw) Utterly unbelieveable.

I was unaware that they also littered the NW Oz coast .

I've never sailed NW Oz so havn't read the pilot.
 
#2,471 · (Edited)
Jul - most are marked on the charts like you see below...

But, since we have no idea if they're all marked (which we doubt), and since we know that many are not lit...we only trust our radar and our eyes. But on really dark nights, that gets very difficult.

Most of the guys I sail with are in the oil industry (out of Houston). They say the reason many of them are unlit is because they are close in (less than 10 miles) in relatively shallow water. This translates into the fact that it was far cheaper to explore there and many more companies gave it a go. But, most of them were smaller operations that went bust...and when that happened they just walked. There was no one left to go after.

The bigger companies do a good job of taking care of their stuff.

People think that the CG should do something about it...but they're so underfunded for their primary mission, that going around and installing lights on hundreds of rigs is WAY beyond their budget.

So...it's just a problem that has no easy solution...apart from radar.
 

Attachments

#2,473 ·
So as many of you know, I did a 190 mile trip across the Gulf from Port Aransas to Galveston this past weekend. I'd have to say that although most of it was motor sailing (which I hate), it still rated as a BFS.

Everything from boat fires...



...to gnarly squalls...



...to great fishing...



...to seriously impressive SOG during one of those squalls...



Check it out here.
 
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