Wed had a raucous ride to Bermuda. High winds and rough seas had marked the last three days of the trip from Fort Pierce, Florida, to Convict Bay in front of the town of St. Georges. We arrived feeling beat up and tired, and when my husband, Dave, and I tied our Tartan 37, Tigger, alongside the Customs dock and got off the boat to check into the country, we found we couldnt stand steadily on land -- our balance was still out at sea. We toddled to the office like drunken sailors, and when we stood still to hand over our papers, we had to hang onto the counter -- the floor was rocking and rolling. I held on and tried to keep my vision steady so my inner ear had some clue as to what was going on.