A few details to fill in about that fateful trip:
1. I’d guess that between 8 and 9pm at least four in our group felt inspired enough to mention how perfect everything was — the temps nearly ideal, the breeze just enough to keep bugs away, the wine flowing, the conversation increasingly animated.
2. When the big blow came shortly thereafter, there was about a 10-minute period of chaos during which we alternately buttressed our tents against the wind, called for dogs that had run off, and gathered lots of belongings. When it was decided the wind was not going to abate, we all turned into pack animals, carrying loads we normally would not for the five-minute walk back to the boat.
3. On our way to the boat, Ian hesitated ever so slightly in the dunes, saying: “It’s a little less windy here.” He was quickly disabused of this notion, possibly by my telekinetic powers.
4. In an overloaded boat Ian and Rachel remained calm and ably steered us to safety as the temperatures plummeted and the winds increased.
5. One by-product from the evening: I have small bruises in the most unlikely places.
6. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat but with bigger tents stakes.

We acted quickly and got out of there, though, so who knows.