The last I saw of the rudder was a glimpse of oak and mahogany surfing just ahead of the crest of the wave that had capsized the boat. As the next wave lifted the turtled hull above me, I raised my hand as if to shade my eyes from the sun. My defense was feeble, and fortunately the expected blow fell short as I was spewed away from the tossing craft by the same foaming crest that had periled me.

It seemed only moments ago that my wife, Carrie, told me that I should put on a sweater. I remember reaching for the main sheet and adjusting the set of the sail...silence was my reply. Now I can't find her. There is only cold, frothing water and the cushion I am clinging to. I wish I could answer her now. I regret my coolness. Damn! where is she?

That day had started sanely enough. It was windy, but not so bad as to cause too much concern, after all, I'd sailed for upwards of 20-years, I was capable, proficient and experienced. But on this day I was also ill prepared and arrogant as well.

I suppose I shouldn't have set-out with the weather deteriorating. It was snug and warm where I was, and it was safe. There was no real need for this to happen, I could have waited until tomorrow.

It had been exhilarating though, heeled over with the sail straining outward and forward on the mast, the spume rushing along the shear, the wind blasting tiny specks of salt into my eyes. But now...

Another wave maliciously slapped me along side my head. I wiped my eyes and saw for a moment a flash of color. Blue, yes, it was blue! Carrie! Carrie! I reached our, thrusting my body into the oncoming waves. Carrie! My frantic grasp at the blurred object brought it to me. It was a shoe. My shoe. My left shoe. I tucked it under my belt and reached out again. Another cushion! I was more buoyant then, and I pushed upward onto my elbows and prayed that I'd see her. I toppled over, the cushions spurted out, and were carried away by the wind and the sea. I was indeed alone.

Suddenly through the haze of my daze, my mind screamed out, stay with the boat! I'd always heard that. Stay with the boat if it capsizes, you've a much better chance of being found. I had suddenly accepted the fact that there was no help at hand, that it was up to me to beat this situation. The boat! It must be upwind of me. Sure, I would drift downwind faster than a capsized boat! All I have to do is swim straight into the seas!

Determined, I struck-out, bursting over the first crest, blinded by the spray, on and on I fought, doggedly pressing on into the seas, into the wind, to the boat!

Soon I was tiring. My arms were becoming heavier, almost as if I was waterlogged. The cold was sapping my strength and I thought I must rest soon. Two more strokes. I saw nothing. My eyes burned and my lungs, it seemed, were pumping more water than air.

I clawed at the shoe in my belt and thrust it away, ridding myself of some little weight and drag. Two more thrusts of aching arms...and I'm spent.

I rolled over onto my back. The sun stabbed into my eyes and I felt my legs start to sink. My body was slowly slipping into the sea and I was...

The shark had struck so incredibly fast that I had not reacted at all. Totally awed by the skill and precision of this ancient hunter's attack, I watched as bits of flesh swirled about in the wake of his passage.

I had not expected or even imageined such an encounter, but from it I learned a valuable lesson that I want to pass on to Burgee readers.

We had awakened to an unusual Southern California morning, a wispy fog had evaporated under a bright sun. Golden shafts of sunlight teetered on the top of the hill, spilling warmth into the waters of the secluded cove.

Breakfast was light and late. I attended to the deck and dinghy, the bridge and the bilge, and soon we slowly motored out of the cove and onlto the glossy surface of the sea, a surface broken only by dimples flipped upon by baitfish feeding or fleeing.

Entering the next cove, we skirted the kelpline. A sinking Rapalla lure was trolled deep and slow and it soon provided three nice bass. We rounded the West End and approached an unnamed cove; a small, rocky beach, abundant kelp, a sleeping seal. We anchored and I filleted the bass there, returning the carcasses to the sea.

I had withstood the smell of fish and the hot sun on my body long enough, so I stripped and plunged into the cold, heavy saltwater.

Breathless and elated, I rolled to the left and spiraled down, eyes closed. Then came a surge! My eyes shot open to see a shark's ragged teeth slash into the bass carcass just inches from my dumb face...

Our Saturday cruise to Catalina Island was beautiful. The sea was calm and although there was some overcast, occasionally we would go through patches of bright early morning sunshine. A few flying fish were spotted and simister black fins of sharks were evident from time to time.

As we approached Avalon harbor we could see that it was busy, but we were assigned a mooring near the old bell tower and spent a couple of relaxing hours just watching people walking along the promenade, watching us.

My son and daughter spent the day in town and when they returned in the early evening, we barbecued on the aft deck. I had made a cover for the bait tank that the barbecue fit into. It was outboard of the boat so we needn't fear accidental tipping of the barbecue dumping hot coals into the boat and onto us. The new barbecue was the butane-fired kind that has lava rock instead of charcoal. A bottle of butane screws onto the valve on the side and it lights instantly, no waiting for the coals to get ready or battling the lighting of it.

We were so relaxed we were in bed and asleep before nine o'clock. At home we stay up until midnight at least. Sunday morning was bright and pleasant. The kids swam and my wife and I wandered through town. We were relaxed, comfortable and really hated to have to leave Avalon that afternoon but work called.

Nearing departure time, I cleaned up the boat, stowed the swim fins, masks, oars, motor and all the gear and equipment that accumulates on deck. I unscrewed the bottle of fuel from the barbecue, cleaned the grill and stowed it all. We had a final few minutes of enjoying the scenery while the engines warmed-up.

We had dropped the mooring and just pulled out into the fairway when our boat exploded...