The aroma of timbers and the sea.
The sound of people yelling to each other – from the yardarms, from the seats of skiffs, from the wales of yachts as they go about.
The crack of sails filling and the flack of pennants in a stiff breeze…
It’s a phrase a dear friend used when he and I stood on Long Point at Maria Island, on a day just like this.
Our respective families were not far from us, having fun, swimming, fishing, looking at life through a sea-lens. The day was perfection. He put his arm across my shoulder, and with his other arm, swept it grandly to indicate the Mercury Passage and Maria Island.
He grinned as if he was sharing a secret and said, ‘Where else in the world?’
I went below!
Apropos of the last post on Notorious, the caravel…
We attended the Wooden Boat Festival and I went aboard this amazing replica.
Lack of space is the most intense sensation – I had thought caravels were so much bigger.
At the marina the other day, in the little coastal village of Triabunna, looked up and saw rigging that seemed so anachronistic.
Being drawn to all things medieval, had to blink twice thinking mind was slipping as I write Gisborne: Book of Knights.
