The two HUGE swells I mentioned picked up Surprise and dropped her at about a 45 degree angle on her rudder. OUCH!

The rudder is about like a surfboard, but fabricated with carbon fiber instead of glass; the shaft is 160 layers of carbon, it is very strong. The things attached to the rudder are not as strong and we shattered our steering chain (3/4" wide bicycle type chain), the rudder "stops" (1/4" spectra) and mangled the mount for the autopilot. We had no steering, and no way of knowing when the next wave would arrive.

After a quick relocation to the restricted part of the harbor with our emergency tiller we were able to reconstruct the steering chain and create new "stops," the autopilot will require more substantial efforts. We quickly exited the harbor, dropping off John in the process so he could meet his wife today. We re-anchored outside behind a small island and Susan went in the water to check the condition of the rudder below the water; it appears to be fine. Our heartfelt thanks to the designer and builder for such a sturdy piece.

It will take a week to get replacement parts and try to find a way to get the mangled mount for Otto redone. In retrospect we ignored several signs that should have had us out of the shallow (12') harbor. The swell had been building during the day and 3 of the boats left late in the afternoon; it is pretty unusual to depart late in the afternoon. The waves were 2X the size of any we had seen and there were no more big ones afterwards. We are very lucky the damage wasn't terminal; we are a lot smarter and more humble this evening.

We motored around to the north side of the island where the bays are deep and the south swell is absent; it is hot, dry and lovely. We are in the company of three cats, one from France, two from Quebec, all two years into cruising; seven kids in total. They came by after we anchored with some fresh Wahoo (Ono) after we anchored.

Junior crew remains aboard and in awe, as usual, at the equanimity with which the Captain and the Admiral take things in stride, not to mention report them in such understated tones. The little details they fail to mention add just a little bit of drama to the adventure. For example: it was two in the morning when the Big Ones rolled under us, and Surprise fairly stood on her stern, with white water up to the steering wheel. The next couple of hours were fairly calm until Captain McGivor, wheels always turning, thought to check the steering equipment. Who else do you know would have figured out we had a problem before laying a hand on the wheel? Dawn found us scrambling along with a few other boats. One relayed that the waves had flipped their dinghy and they lost everything on it but motor and fuel. Another's dinghy broke loose completely and by daylight was located between the dredge's pipeline and the shore, with one of it's pontoons deflated. Two boats left stern anchors behind as they scrambled for more protected spots behind the breakwater. On top of all that, believe it or not, at 0600 on the Saturday morning before Easter the local guys working the dredge showed up. They went about their work, which included moving their dredge line. Unfortunately, the spot to which we had reconnoitered Surprise while the amazing steering repair was going on, was just where they needed to be. They circled us politely without a word, doing as much of their work as they could, and then finally approached. I'm sure they were wondering what the #&$*@# was wrong with these #*@& yachtsters who couldn't figure out when it was time to leave. (Oh, did we mention that, along with all the other re-located boats, we were way forward of the markers delineating the proper place for anchoring?) Nonetheless, the workmen were very polite when they finally approached: Susan was ready for them, having rehearsed a few sentences (and gestures) to let them know we had a problem. They simply asked how much longer it would take to fix, and although they got their hopes up a little early when the housing went back on the steering column, they pretty much left us alone til the job was done and we vamoosed. We were sad to have to part so abruptly and unceremoniously with our friend and crewmate John, but all hands agreed that the sooner we were away from the slippery bottom, waves, machinery, and other boats in that harbor, the better. And away we were, all by about 10:15 a.m.! A gentle motor around to a quieter anchorage, some tunafish sandwiches, and a coupla beers later, life in Paradise is looking a little better.