There are some weekends that need to last much, much longer. That could be Groundhog Day and I would be very happy. This weekend was one of those, well I could have skipped the cracked ribs incident, apart from that it was perfect. Sun, swimming, sailing, food, wine, conversations with excellent company. A variety of company.
I get a hard time for my chatting, where I pick up a conversation with another from the slightest contact. How else would I have met the lovely young couple with their vintage film cameras enjoying the boat sheds, pleased to find one open and seeking permission to photograph the ropes on the door. The Irish man who was basking in the sun seeking information about things that might maim him in the boat harbour. We talked of his home in the north and his New Zealand adventure with his friends. The English man who wanted a sail and came to crew on Friday evening.
New friends and older ones like Julie who happened to walk past and Mark a sometimes crew member, like on Friday evening. Interesting, well travelled people whose stories expand my world. Our Friday night sail, we won. On handicap and that's still a win. Mark set the spinnaker and helped me fly it, while Pete kept it all under control. We hummed along keeping close to the pack. Drinks and food followed, tall stories and true. The skipper didn't quite make it home, sleeping with the ropes.
Saturday was more social time, lots of basking in the sun and sleeping off Friday night. Sunday was a quick ride down to sail again in the light breeze. My bike is coming in really handy these days as I negotiate the people wandering along the waterfront in the sun. I got to helm on account of the ribs, Pete was sympathetic. What fun, it's the first time I've really helmed out on the harbour. Anchoring was not my strong point, procrastinating before making the plunge into the chilly water I was better at.
So I've had my first swim in this much colder water. A refreshing much needed plunge and then some sunbathing on deck before dinner. It really was a weekend to bottle, one to repeat many times before the end of this, the warmest of New Zealand summers.
I get a hard time for my chatting, where I pick up a conversation with another from the slightest contact. How else would I have met the lovely young couple with their vintage film cameras enjoying the boat sheds, pleased to find one open and seeking permission to photograph the ropes on the door. The Irish man who was basking in the sun seeking information about things that might maim him in the boat harbour. We talked of his home in the north and his New Zealand adventure with his friends. The English man who wanted a sail and came to crew on Friday evening.
New friends and older ones like Julie who happened to walk past and Mark a sometimes crew member, like on Friday evening. Interesting, well travelled people whose stories expand my world. Our Friday night sail, we won. On handicap and that's still a win. Mark set the spinnaker and helped me fly it, while Pete kept it all under control. We hummed along keeping close to the pack. Drinks and food followed, tall stories and true. The skipper didn't quite make it home, sleeping with the ropes.
Saturday was more social time, lots of basking in the sun and sleeping off Friday night. Sunday was a quick ride down to sail again in the light breeze. My bike is coming in really handy these days as I negotiate the people wandering along the waterfront in the sun. I got to helm on account of the ribs, Pete was sympathetic. What fun, it's the first time I've really helmed out on the harbour. Anchoring was not my strong point, procrastinating before making the plunge into the chilly water I was better at.
So I've had my first swim in this much colder water. A refreshing much needed plunge and then some sunbathing on deck before dinner. It really was a weekend to bottle, one to repeat many times before the end of this, the warmest of New Zealand summers.
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| Proof |
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| In my element |
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