We were up on deck bouncing across the waves at a rate of knots – and the wind was 30 knots – on route to the paradise Heron Island; we had bagged a last minute deal at a fraction of the usual price and were pleased with ourselves. The spray was hitting us in the face, neck and chest and we were covered in lumps of Rock salt like Pretzels. Arnuad wasn’t enjoying that experience so we went inside. That was the wrong move to make. I took my eyes of the horizon, the waves were smashing against the windows and I turned green. I didn’t lose dignity alone- half the boat was chundering in to paper bags whilst competent crew dowsed our necks with frozen flannels and fed us ice cubes. All became well as
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