  I'm not trying to minimize what happened off the coast of Gloucester in 1991,  but I think my friends and I experienced a close match this weekend on Lake Travis. nbsp;  The day started like any other lake day. nbsp;  We piled in the car with the sun shining and headed out around 4 or so. nbsp;
 We were on the lake,  in a cove,  and skiing/ kneeboarding folks within the hour.
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 With the exception of the occastional passing cloud,  the weather was beautiful.
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 A couple of hours ( and a few beers)  later,  we noticed a very dark cloud forming to the east of us but it appeared to be moving fairly quickly toward the center of town and away from the safety of our little cove.
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 We decided it would be smarter to start heading back to the dock ( a good 15/ 20 minute boat drive at full speed)  but to be on the safe side I called the marina and it turned out that they were getting&
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nailed with winds strong enough to pull white caps over the dock and against the doors to the ship store.
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 So,  Plan B,  we decided to ride it out where we were and hope that the worst part of it missed us entirely.
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 Right about then was when we looked up and noticed that out of nowhere a second storm had formed directly above our heads.
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 About 200 yards away you could see where the bottom had dropped out and it was heading our direction.
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 If any of you have ever driven a boat in the rain,  you know that as it comes down it feels like a hundred thousand needles poking you at once.
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 We decided to try and find shelter at someones boat dock,  at this point it didn't matter who's;  we figured it would be easy enough to explain why we were on private property if the owners wanted to make a big deal out of it.
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 We parked next to this boathouse/ shed and tied off just as the worst storm I've seen on the lake in four or five years hit us.
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 We emptied the boat and huddled together in the shed while we watched the storm come down.
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 It was only then that I took a good look at our surroundings.
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A large "
Private Property,  No Trespassing"  sign hung on the dock and inside the shed was written on a large erase board " Sherrif's Number"
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 Whoever lived here obviously had a problem with unwanted visitors.
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 Glancing up the hill I didn't see any house but a pathway leading back to a forest.
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 (
Here is where you cue " Dueling Banjo's"
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 Anyway,  long story short,  no owner ever showed up,
 the storm ended up dying down enough for us to head back to the marina ( at about 4 miles per hour)  and we all made it back to town in one piece,  but I haven't had that sort of lake experience before and would prefer ( even though it was a hell of an adventure)  not to have it again.
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 At least we timed it right.
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 we got back to the dock with one beer left.
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 Could've been a lot worse.
