In typical sounds fashion the clouds could be seen above the hills hurtling across the sky from the north as forecast but I guess the wind was hitting some unseen geographic feature and much like a snooker ball was pounding into Chance Bay from the south.

I put up with it until dawn and then we though we might go in search of a sheltered corner as we assumed it would be hard to find a worse anchorage. We motored out of Chance Bay into the main reach and the instant we turned the corner went from howling southerly to howling northerly compressing down the reach.

Spinning rotor gusts were striking Nightshift from all sides so I decided I would leave her bare of sail and just motor through the chop. Just to make things more exciting the rain started pouring, (the horizontal variety) and the tops were being ripped of the top of the slop and flung in our faces at regular intervals.

About this point I noticed that my old Musto jacket was no longer waterproof. I had to laugh at myself splashing around in the sounds at dawn in the middle of winter at least we didn't have to content with crowds.

About this time I noticed a perfectly formed water spout, it looked just like a text book tornado about 30 feet high with a larger area of smoking water swirling about its base. It weaved a snaking course roughly across the wind about 500 metres away.

With much excitement I pointed it out to Rach who struggled to peer over the dodger to windward and we were both fascinated by the phenomenon which crossed the reach before striking the hills on the other side and disappearing.

I cheerfully pointed out how interesting this was and posed the question, "I wonder what that would do if it hit the yacht?" Naturally about 30 seconds after saying this I found out.

Another perfect waterspout formed about 20 metres off our port beam the swirling wind at its base hurling spray along the side of the yacht. I just had time to shout "hold on" when it scored a direct hit. The result didn't knock us right down but we did get the starboard rail under. Nightshift rebounded instantly and we were left watching the waterspout snaking off across the reach.

We motored up the reach for about an hour and saw several more waterspouts but none of the others came close to us. After the first once struck us were weren't particularly worried as they obviously weren't strong enough to pick us up or really knock us flat though I wouldn't want to meet one with any sail up.

I headed for a Bay called YNCYA Bay, which as we approached looked just as bad as the one we had left with white caps everywhere. But the first mate insisted I stick my nose in now we had come this far and I have learnt long ago to listen to my wife, as she is normally right (although she was wrong once in February 2001).

Sure enough a small crook behind one of the headlands provided an area of flat water big enough for about 2 boats. When comfortably settled in the calm patch it was interesting to see a wind line no more than one boat length from our stern. On one side of the line was a 1m breaking chop and on our side flat water without even the surface ruffled by any wind.

Occasionally a gust would spin into our haven and lean Nightshift over. I deflated the dingy and moved it from under the boom to the cockpit floor and dropped the canvas dodger and lashed it flat and it was amazing how much less the yacht heeled when the odd gust did hit us.

Then it was time to catch up on the sleep we had missed the night before. Each time I got up during the day conditions hadn't changed and back to bed we went. By Sunday morning we were feeling considerably more rested and whilst the wind had eased the rain was still falling. By Sunday afternoon the rain had eased to occasional showers and we were able to open everything up and try and dry my old Musto jacket and the various layers of clothing that had got wet under it.