So we stayed well clear and put in at least two extra tacks before rounding the point and heading for the bay again. In the bay, there was no sign of ...evastation. No boats on their sides on the beach. No litter of clothes and sails lying along the water line. In fact, there was nothing at all! Seeing Arctic Tern behind, I got Joanne (now unofficial radio officer) to tell them there was nothing to be seen and we were heading for the next rendezvous. I was guessing that Craig and his crew would. But i'm temporarily blinded by the light. I am pulled into a bent position by my hair. I hear a buzzing before I feel a clipping machine start to shear my shoulder length red hair. I scream as I'm quickly sheared and gain a stinging slap across my face. A sharp sting hits the back of my skull, almost as one would expect a stapler to feel.Some more lotion is applied to my now bald scalp before something resembling a black and white rubber swimming cap is pulled tightly over my face. It has a. More

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