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We were out in the storm on Friday night.  Matt posted this story on Sailboatowners.com:

We have a sloop-rigged Grampian 26 keelboat that we've been restoring and sailing for the past 3 years. Last night, we were sailing south from the North East River down the upper Chesapeake Bay in very light winds with the mainsail and a hank-on 140 genoa. Just before midnight, the wind died out altogether. Heavy fog set in. Because we were approaching the shipping channel for the C&D Canal and wanted to keep steerage, we dropped the sails and started the outboard motor. The headsail went into a bag snapped around the forestay and the mainsail was rolled on top of the boom and tied down with 4 lengths of 3/8" line held with reefing knots. We checked weather predictions again and saw that the wind wasn't expected to pick up until the next day. Although we had planned an overnight sail, given the heavy fog and lack of wind, we decided to go up the Sassafras River to spend the night near Lloyd's Creek. Shortly after entering the mouth of the Sassafras, we saw what looked like "heat" lightning off in the distance. Within minutes, the lightning was flashing all around us and above us in the upper atmosphere without touching down. The barometer held steady and the water was still, as we motored at approximately 2 knots. Then the boat was hit by what I can only describe as a wall of wind from the stern that heeled us over and spun us to starboard. Even with no sail up we were heeled to 20 degrees so suddenly that I crashed knee-first into the other side of the cockpit. My gut reaction was to steer into the wind. Water that had been flat moments before sent cresting waves crashing over the bow. My wife went below to close the portlights and get our PFDs. Sudden driving rain limited visibility to about 3 feet past the bow, though I could see an illuminated channel marker some distance ahead as we were faced west into the wind but being driven east up the river while I tried to steer us out of the channel, which ran quite close to the lee shore. Within 5 minutes of the first gust hitting us, another gust hit us, spinning us back to port. Wind caught in the folds of the main sail, blowing open one and then two sail ties, creating a parachute of sail in the middle of the boom. We were instantly heeled so far to port that I was standing on the side of the cockpit bench while fastening my PFD. My wife took the helm and I pulled myself forward to fasten the sail, using the first handy line (the tail of the main halyard) to lash it to the boom. Within moments of my return to relieve my screaming wife in the cockpit, part of the sail blew open again in another gust, this time heeling us so far that the port side toerail was below the water while waves crashed over the cabin house roof. The outboard prop was out of the water and we shut the motor off. I went to the mast again, but could not pull the sail to the boom given the wind conditions. At one point, I was hanging on to the boom to keep from going over. We had lost sight of all channel markers and knew nothing of our location except that the depth had gone from 15 ft to 7 ft and I feared we'd soon run aground. In desperation, I slashed the sail along the boom and near the mast to cut it free. Once the sail was off, the boat partially righted, though were still unable to steer. We went aground on shoals and were knocked off into deeper water. Now that I thought I'd be able to stay on the forward deck, I went to the bow and dropped our main anchor. Our wooden dinghy, tied to the stern, had been swamped and flipped. Though it still floated due to the flotation I'd built into it, it was catching the moving water like a scoop and keeping the bigger boat from turning into the wind. Unable to pull it from the water, I set it free. We dropped a second anchor off of the bow and then rode out the remainder of the storm down below while listening to another nearby boat calling the Coast Guard for help on the VHF radio. Though it felt like a lifetime, only 30 minutes had passed since the first gust hit. When the sun came up, we realized we were no more than 100 feet from a shore and had blown more than 2 miles up river during the storm before setting our anchors. We learned this morning that boats at a nearby yacht club dragged their permanent moorings hundreds of yards in the storm and that gusts were measured at up to 80 mph. We did not recover our dinghy. I certainly know now to lash the sail more tightly to the boom before a storm hits, even when dropping it in light air conditions. Aside from sharing that lesson, I'd like to hear advice from other sailors about what we should or could have done differently during the storm to avoid having to cut the mainsail off. Has this ever happened to anybody else? The attached photos were taken while we were assessing the damage and then sailing home with a jib this morning. We ran the remains up the next day while limping home with just a small jib up. Pretty pitiful.

We're off to a great start this year.  There is not very much left to do, just a few odds and ends here and there.

Matt is in the thick of sorting out the wiring and setting up some actual switches (no more holding the wires to the battery contacts).  We also pulled out the old flimsy aluminum bimini from the basement and, using a tubing bender from Harbor Freight (60.00) and stainless tubing from Fazzio's Metalworks (A/K/A Fazzio's Salty Balls -- this may be a story for another time) bent a new bimini frame based on the old one. The vinyl top looks good enough for at least one more season.

Finished photos will follow. . . once finished.
We have plastic hardware and are replacing it with metal for good measure.

The Club rented a boom truck, so we took advantage of it to fix the exceedingly bent Windex/vhf antenna.

So cool.

The interior handrails are up now, after they spent all winter sitting under the Hobie.

I got the Hobie ready to go but the water is still too cold to take her out for a spin.

The motor is back on.  We are not having her serviced (eeee).  She ran nicely in a bucket in the garage so we are going to cross our fingers and go with it.

We also received a free sail from the sail fairy.  Looks like another 180, in slightly worse condition than ours. It is just the sail we needed a back up for too, as Matt likes to use it in inappropriate conditions. Thanks Glen!

We are fine fine fine and just about ready to launch.

This is definitely a record year so far.

End of Season, 2011

Sailing right after the bad weather was really different.  Nobody else on the water, heavy skies, dark turbid water full of debris.  The current going south was so strong that sailing north was almost impossible.

We did have one really serene night in Worton Creek, though I can't imagine how annoying it must be there during the summer season when Jellyfish Joe's or whatever that beachfront bar is hopping.   Also made a major breakthrough in anchoring out when we finally learned that we were making a very elementary mistake in using far too little chain on the anchor rode. Now we know, and knowing is in fact, half of the battle. 

Queequeg was having some serious issues with Matt being in the Dinghy so far away.  Fortunately she remains as ever, more afraid of the water than of anything else.  

Looking forward to a proper sailing season this year, with no major projects planned! Painting the hull is officially cancelled until next year.