1.Indiantown, Florida

We arrived here two weeks after hurricane Wilma barreled its way through Indiantown.

The stop sign at the side road to the Indiantown marina, kicked to the ground by the wind still lies flat on its face in the sand. The boat yard is an awful sight. More than 30 boats were knocked off their stands. In front of us, a CC 43 lies on its side like a beached whale but the spade rudder, stuck in the ground, remains vertical. Behind us, a felled Benneteau’s mast has taken out the rigging of two neighbours. All three masts are folded like wet milkshake straws. To the left a prostrate Hunter, pierced by one of its stands, bleeds fuel down its hull.

And yet it is all so arbitrary. In the midst of this chaos, ‘Golden eye’ is upright and unscathed. Moya’s home-made cloth hatch covers, kept in place by a strip of white underwear elastic sewn in to their rims, are just as we left them.

How lucky can you be?