It had been a year since I'd sailed my 77. Someone said "check your footstraps for rot!" I've never had gear go dry for that long! The straps were fine. I met Scott at Sebonac, where we were joined by Winger John Nat and another guy whose name I forgot but he used to work with the Wolf so he is automatically In.
Scott forgot his 4.2 ("I left it under my 5.8!" so he was in a pickle, as the winds built over two hours, but not gradually. Ever so often it was as if a switch was thrown. Me: 4.7 on the 93, 4.7 on the 77, 4.2 on the 77, and then in the middle of a run I (and everyone else) was flattened by a gust. Liquid smoke. I got back to the beach fully sheeted out, thinking my 3.4 was too big for what was blowing. Everyone came in (John toughed it out for an five extra minutes) while sand blew down the road.
Derigged to a gorgeous sunset.
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