As soon as you step over the threshold from the cabin to the upper deck, the wind hits you with a strength and intensity that could whisk you overboard. As long as you can hold your ground, it’s quite invigorating to feel such power. The wind’s force presses me up against the deck railing and below I see two steady streams of sea spray flying up from underneath the vessel as it cuts effortlessly through the calm water. Bits of spray spike upwards into my face, as the rest trails behind in a seemingly endless stream of white foam. I’m reminded of the RIB (rigid-hulled inflatable boat) rides back on Sherkin with that feeling of exhilaration, while speeding across open water, crashing over crests, spraying a salty mist in my face, and I can’t help but smile.
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