The conditions were perfect that morning as Mickey, Randy, and I headed out of Neah Bay, Wash. By 10:30, we were fishing about a mile from shore, when suddenly Randy yelled, “John, go!” I looked back to see a 20-foot wall of water coming at us. I grabbed the wheel, but before I could put the boat into gear, the wave slammed me into the throttle controls. It slung Randy into the sea and threw Mickey to the floor. The boat flipped completely but rolled upright again. I grabbed the radio and made a six-second Mayday call. Noise came from the other end, but I couldn’t tell whether anyone had actually heard me.