Today is the 17th of October. A day of mist and sun but little wind. It takes only a moment to ready my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’, slip the lines and we are off. An irregular strip of mist clings to the woods crowning the steep hills of the loch’s north bank. The houses lining the road at their foot glow in the autumn sun. The sky with it’s miserly dotting of puffball clouds is a deep intense blue. I’m freezing! Even a full offshore sailing kit with hat and gloves, plus a serious beard, cannot block the wind chill. But we don’t care! My little boat and me are having a great old time. I ease my bulk to the lea inducing extra heel and the force-two chuckles us along. It is the sort of day where one breaths slowly, savouring the air like chilled summer wine. The land sounds are faint like friendly insects. We are alone on the water. The sea and sky and the wind belong to us.
Saturday 17 October 2015
Mist and Sun
Mist and sun
Today is the 17th of October. A day of mist and sun but little wind. It takes only a moment to ready my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’, slip the lines and we are off. An irregular strip of mist clings to the woods crowning the steep hills of the loch’s north bank. The houses lining the road at their foot glow in the autumn sun. The sky with it’s miserly dotting of puffball clouds is a deep intense blue. I’m freezing! Even a full offshore sailing kit with hat and gloves, plus a serious beard, cannot block the wind chill. But we don’t care! My little boat and me are having a great old time. I ease my bulk to the lea inducing extra heel and the force-two chuckles us along. It is the sort of day where one breaths slowly, savouring the air like chilled summer wine. The land sounds are faint like friendly insects. We are alone on the water. The sea and sky and the wind belong to us.
Today is the 17th of October. A day of mist and sun but little wind. It takes only a moment to ready my little Corribee ‘Trivial Pursuit’, slip the lines and we are off. An irregular strip of mist clings to the woods crowning the steep hills of the loch’s north bank. The houses lining the road at their foot glow in the autumn sun. The sky with it’s miserly dotting of puffball clouds is a deep intense blue. I’m freezing! Even a full offshore sailing kit with hat and gloves, plus a serious beard, cannot block the wind chill. But we don’t care! My little boat and me are having a great old time. I ease my bulk to the lea inducing extra heel and the force-two chuckles us along. It is the sort of day where one breaths slowly, savouring the air like chilled summer wine. The land sounds are faint like friendly insects. We are alone on the water. The sea and sky and the wind belong to us.
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