Today started out as if I had somehow been transported back to the tropics. The sun shone, the sea was gilded in silver, and the swell was undulating reflections of it all.

I stood in the cockpit and took as much of it in as time allowed. I knew it would be a rarity. Something we are not likely to experience again for many weeks. I also knew it would soon change as everything does down here.

Within hours we were literally under assault. The winds went to 33 and swell from the south and west combined with the southwest wind waves and 2 knot current to produce a sea state we had not yet seen. I wondered how it was that we picked our way through it without getting bashed every other minute.

The only safe thing to do was pile on the canvas. The Solent full, no reefs, flew through it all straining mightily and the windvane worked its magic. I would have put no faith in my own helming abilities in those conditions for I could hardly say which way the wind was blowing or the swell running things were such a jumble.

With the log showing 10.5 knots dead down wind and the anemometer pegged at 33, It was time to regain some measure of control. I put two reefs in the Solent, stood watch a few more minutes in the failing light and with nothing more constructive to be done topsides, went below.

The forecast calls for more of the same for the next 12 hours. I suppose someone simply forget to tell the folks that run things down here that Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest.