<SNIP> In such a situation, it is absolutely necessary to maneuver such as to cause the plunging portion of any oncoming breaker to expend the worst of it's force on the hull, up forward. This is not easy to do at night, in which case pray for a full moon, or sunrise. It may be necessary to use full throttle forward or even in reverse to get the bow into position to take the brunt. <SNIP> I concur. The scariest for Debbie and I was two times in a cold, black fog. In the middle of the day, the fog was black inside. With visibility about 100 yards or so, and in heavy seas, once off Cascade Head on the Oregon Coast and once in south Georgia Strait off Roberts Bank. These huge square waves would roll in out of the fog. Like ghosts. They would crash in from both sides and ahead. They look much larger than the are, but they were 6 or 7 feet. It's difficult to maintain a heading with compass swinging wildly. Hanging on to the wheel and staring at the compass then glancing up through the windshield to see a grey wave rolling in over the anchor on the bow pulpit. Grit your teeth as the wave crashes against the windshield 2 feet in front of your face. Look down and you've swung through 30 degrees and have to horse it back on course. You can't get a handle on the size of the waves (can't tell the attitude of the boat w/o horizon). Every once in a while Debbie, who was standing hanging on to the counter-top and a securing strap, would let out a little shriek as a larger wave came rolling at the sides of the boat. Fortunately the side waves would usually role under the boat (rolling the boat 30 degrees) or slam the hull, but not the side windows which would not have taken that. Fortunately both instances lasted about 2 hours. We were knackered. I cannot imagine an all night of that treatment. Joe Engel Portland, OR