In 1982, I was asked to help deliver a 33-foot sailing boat called the brass buzzard.

I gathered two of my sailing buddies and we were off. The plan was to sail from Manila to Hong Kong

for the China Sea race. The normal route for us was to head north to the island of Edimana,

Mayor, and then turn left at the corner and head across the South China Sea. We made a stop at

the island to do some minor repairs before heading across. The repairs took up the whole day,

so we decided to set off early the next morning. Morning came and everything was routine.

We prepped the boat, looked at the weather, and were off. Once out at sea, we encountered normal

China Sea conditions of sunny skies, 35 knots of wind, and about 8-10-foot waves. It was not

until two in the afternoon when I noticed something was off. I could see a weather pattern forming.

I called my other two deckhands to prepare for the nasty weather ahead. I counted seven

squals on the horizon where we were headed. Without a word, we all prepared the boat for what was to

come. Not before long, the sun was gone. It was pitch black and getting nasty fast.

Winds were now clocking in at 50-55 knots, and the seas were getting up to 20 feet.

Then the real fun started. About an hour passed, and I was reading 65-70 knots of wind.

I could only guess the wave heights at about 35-40 feet. My adrenaline started to go crazy.

I had never experienced anything like this. These conditions were bad for any size boat,

let alone a measly 33-footer. I knew I had to focus. One small mishap controlling the

sails where the steering wheel could be fatal. The waves were so big now, the only time you could

feel the wind was at the top of the waves. After reaching the crest of the large swells,

we had to sail the boat as fast as possible to gain speed to get up the next swell.

The easiest and most disheartening sound in the world was the lack of sound at the bottom of a huge

swell. A few hours later, things started to ease, and the seas were down to manageable 10-15

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