Sat with the logbook again this afternoon and lost my place in the 1987 gale halfway through telling it to myself. Rushed straight to the ending like a man running for the last ferry. Greta would have had words. The grandchildren deserve the whole thing, slow, with the swell described properly. Writing it down properly while my hand still holds the pen, fair winds to me.

cap you're grand. slow down, the ticket can wait 🌊