I don't think it was the time I was dolphin (mahi-mahi, dorado) hunting a mile east of the Miami Seabouy and the glue on my second Zodiac experienced catastrophic failure. The floor pealed off like a banana, giving me a glass-bottomed boat without the glass; unsupportted 
the transom flexed off and the boat began a split. (Luckily I held on to the engine.) The seas were flat that day (3mph breeze from SE) so I was able to wrap a 100 foot line (3/8 inch) around the rear pontoons and fix an oar athwart the stern, hang the engine, and head in. Only lost a red and black dolphin,jr fishing lure and a glove, everything else had been 
made fast (tied down). Never got to fish that day, though. 
    It wasn't, either, before I was a teenager, ignoring gale flag posted and going out on my friend's 8 foot hydroplane. It hadn't been windy - yet. But it began building. The chop got bad on Reynold's Channel between Long Beach and Island Park-Oceanside so we decided to 
return to port at top speed. I was clinging to the bow, so we could properly plane, when the steering cable snapped almost knocking my friend out of the craft. The engine, unfettered, pressed hard to port and the boat spun counterclockwise like a top.  I clung to the mooring 
cleat on the bow with my feet dragging through the water for several cycles before my friend gained control. I didn't know how to swim at that time. I pay attention to weather now. 
    I wasn't that frightened when a waterspout flung saltwater, seaweed, and baitfish onto me near Black Caesar's Creek north of Key Largo. The spout was moving away by then. 
    I was more angry than scared when out fishing east of Key Biscayne and a friend dropped a 27 pound kingfish on the floor of my first Zodiac. The flopping king sliced a 6 inch gash into the starboard, immediately deflating half the boat. It was the 4th king, our limit, so it was time to head in, anyway. 14 knots wind and 3 foot following seas made for a damp journey back. 
    Yes, I was scared that day the wind blew up. I had been anchored east of the finger channels, over the patch reefs, south of Key Biscayne, pulling up endless grunts, punctuated by yellowtail snapper, red and gag grouper, a mutton snapper, and various other South Florida 
reef fish. I was releasing a baby sailfish that had taken a pinfish floated under a balloon when I heard distant rumblings - thunder. I looked up and the whole western sky, formerly blue, was black! The wind had shifted suddenly to the WSW where it had been prevailing from the 
SE. Of course, I had difficulty pulling the pin (anchor). Two 9 foot and several 7 foot rods were stowed flat amidship, I whipped the ten horses and headed north for the cruise ship channel at Government Cut south of Miami Beach. I nearly made it. A half mile out, the wind hit with full force. It must have been a steady 25 knots with gusts. I swear some waves were over 8 feet. (My inflatable at that time was only 10 feet 2 inches, now it's a big 10'6".) To make matters worse, it was an incoming tide and the waves at the mouth of the Cut were standing up into haystacks in the face of the opposing wind. Thunder and lighning were 
simultaneous, a grey wall of rain swept over me. I nearly flipped like a pancake a couple of times and knew I'd never get through the Cut. I quickly tied a short line to two 5 gallon buckets and a smaller 2 1/2. I clipped one 5 to the bow mooring ring, another to the port stern, and the smaller to the starboard stern. I buffeted through the Cut, considerably slowed by the drag, several times nearly flipping, but pulled roughly back, alternately, by the port stern bucket line, mainly, and the others. Thunderclaps were vibrating my stomach. I took refuge 
under the fishing pier at South Beach, having a heck of a time to manoeuvre without slicing up on the barnacles coating the legs of the pier and making fast until an hour later all booming had stopped. Yeah, I was scared. 
    I really don't understand why some people don't want to go fishing with me ;-) 
-mpc 
Michael Patrick Corriss 
a.k.a. Captain Camel of the Que Linda IV