![Picture](/uploads/8/2/8/1/8281240/3367138.jpg?0)
We were only able to capture a blurry sixty-two.
I am hiding in the bow trying to type quietly while Adam sleeps off the excitement of the last 24 hours. The worst of the storm seems to have passed, I think, and all that remains are a mild rain and Adam’s not so gentle snoring. Yesterday afternoon the clouds turned dark grey around the anchorage and the wind started blowing hard off the shore. We watched as the instruments measured wind speeds in the high twenties and then the thirties. We sat in the cockpit enjoying the storm and waiting to get a picture of something in the forties, which we thought was quite something. It’s funny how your perception changes though and soon we were watching for fifty plus. At some point, well into the fifties but not before we hit the sixties, I asked Adam if we should be getting worried. The wind was howling through the rigging, the boat was fish-tailing through the waves off the shore, and we were being hit by sand and mist being blown across the water. Adam had been busy dashing around the boat, taking videos, and laughing a slightly manic laugh but he took a second to look at the catamaran beside us who appeared to have dragged its anchor and had been motoring for at least a half an hour to keep off the rocks. He thought about it for a second and then said that he thought that we were okay; not long after that he was gleefully shouting that he had seen a sixty-five. At that point we started heeling and items in the boat began shifting and sliding around the counters. But, a bit surprisingly, the anchor held. Sometime after midnight the wind died down and we decided to go to bed but it started gusting to forty plus again and sleep wasn’t in the cards. It’s much better now and the wind is manageable. We are rolling again so everything is back to normal and all we have to do is sit back and wait for the police to come and kick us out!