This brings back some horrible memories I have from the late 70's. My Type A personality buddy invited a bunch of binks to the beach on a day after a huge Nor'easter. As he rigged his Prindle (18 or 19...I forget) I looked up and down the beach and didn't see any other boat activity that day. In those days you couldn't walk down the shore without tripping over a beach cat so that should have been a clue. It was clearly too rough to put binks aboard so he enlisted me and another buddy to go out that day in order to project (or protect) his image of manly dominance. I was somewhat fearless (stupid) back then so I eagerly suited up for the adrenaline rush. Now on the Atlantic coast the only way to get wind in your sail in a Nor'easter unfortunately is to turn the boat broadside into the waves. Technically you don't need to turn the boat at all because 6 or 7 foot waves arriving in relentless sets will easily oblige. After struggling mightily through three sets of waves we saw what might as well have been a tidal wave approaching the beach. Ray jumped off the boat and tried to swim the hulls perpendicular into the surf. Marcus tried valiantly to get some forward momentum while I just watched in horror as the ten footer rolled in. Ray shouted "get away from the boat". Marcus and I dived into the surf as King Neptune picked up the Prindle like a styrofoam toy and hurled it ashore from thirty or forty feet out. The boat landed upside down on its mast. The mast flexxed like a leaf spring and shot the boat back up into the air where it landed for a second time squarely on its transoms smashing both rudders and castings into splinters. Both mainsail and jib were ripped to shreds. This was a brand new boat so it was pretty gruesome. Captain and crew survived and lived to sail again another day but with a real healthy respect for mother nature.