my power and water pedestal attached had broken completely loose from the rest of the dock and was crashing into my boat's stern. But there was nothing I could do at this point.
   To make matters worse, the marina had flooded and a number of cars whose owners had chosen to stay aboard their boats were out in the middle of the water. Several houses had flooded and someone's 275 gallon fuel oil tank had overturned and spilled its contents. The road leading to the peninsula had flooded to about 5+ feet, and there were three trees and power lines down on the road, so we were all marooned. Two news helos and one state police helo hovered around for about an hour looking at us. We looked back.
   The water crested about 10:30 am, but the dock was in such bad shape that no one could get to or from their boats (some folks had elected to spend the night aboard). I finally flagged down a kid on a PWC and hitched a ride out to ENSHALLA. The scene was not pretty. The powerboat and sailboat at the end of the dock had each sustained severe damage. The two were lying against each other. The powerboat was holed at the sheer and the sailboat had heavy damage, including a missing portlight from banging against the powerboat. It was apparent that the dock had failed first, as the sailboat (and maybe the powerboat, I can't remember) was still attached to both dock rings and a piece of wood that had once been part of the dock.
   The Morgan was the third boat in line and as mentioned earlier, was out in the fairway facing the dock from whence she came. A smaller sailboat had been moored next to the Morgan and had been holed in the starboard aft end. A Tayana 37 was in the next slip and had suffered fairly heavy damage on the port side due I think to contact with the piling and with the small sailboat. Her starboard aft lines had parted. The next slip upwind was empty; her owner having elected to go farther up river. Wish I'd thought of that. I will next time.
   My boat, ENSHALLA, was in the next slip. As mentioned before, the dock wall had collapsed onto the dock, providing a very nice view of the now calm Chesapeake Bay. Large chunks of dock were missing and debris was everywhere. The starboard side of the stern had quite number of gouges from where she had been attached by the power pedestal, but none were too deep. The starboard aft lines had both parted, allowing her to get up against the extreme topmost part of the midships portside piling. The aft section of the caprail on the starboard side had significant grooves cut into it from the liens. The fender boat had apparently worked for a while, as it had pretty heavy damage to the outer side of it. The piling itself had a half-moon shaped gouge out of it, presumably from my stainless rub strake. The rubstrake had peeled back from the fir rubrail, which was heavily damaged. However, the fiberglass had only a fairly minor abrasion on it as far as I could tell. It didn't even rub though the gelcoat. Inside was completely dry, which was gratifying as I've just spent a fair part of the summer replacing all the leaky chainplates and sealing the core around them.
   My conclusion: I will NEVER EVER keep the boat in a slip again during a hurricane. What was I thinking?!!!

problem, going during the trip.
   We motor-sailed until we were about five miles away from Gran Canaria. At that point, the wind picked up, gradually building to 25 knots from the ESE, giving us a broad reach with the yankee and mainsail. The waves also picked up and the rolling motion of the boat began to affect all of us. Garry put his Trans-derm Scop patch on (probably should have done it earlier) and took advantage of being off watch to go down below to sleep it off. Tom and I went directly to our usual mal-de-mer treatment: nibbling on dry crackers, keeping a careful eye on the horizon, and limiting our charting, log-keeping and time below deck to only what was necessary.
   A touch of sea sickness continued to affect all of us for the first two days, but we gradually became acclimated to the waves and motion of the boat and by the third day, we were all starting to feel pretty hungry.
   When we first started the trip, it was quite cold at night, requiring us to wear everything warm that we had, including a watch cap. The wind continued to blow from an easterly direction at velocities ranging from 20 to 30 knots for the first eight or nine days. We were happy to be putting an average 150 nm a day behind us. But the waves were at least 12 feet high and it was fairly strenuous sailing. It required quite a lot of energy to move around the boat and carry out tasks, and a special agility and sense of balance to prepare and cook meals. Tom carefully checked lines, sheets, sails and equipment daily for signs of chafe and wear.
   We saw very little wildlife on this trip. A large pod of dolphins followed us for a while, two days off shore; but away from shore, we saw no more dolphins or whales and no bird life. Every morning we