On The Waves Again

0857 to be exact. We slipped the surly bonds of black nylon cleated here, there and everywhere. The ladder on the daymark was sufficiently inundated we knew we’d be able to cross Long Bar rather than doubling it. Dodging watermen running trots, we were blessed with a 15 knot breeze as soon as we needed it. Suddenly free of diesel acoustics, we could feel the tension of the last seven months melt away. We made ten miles  before the wind went first light, then contrary as we entered the West River. We tied up with zero fuss and left the boat to the competent and caring folks at her commissioning yard. And then away. Even the ab infernis traffic between the yard and home couldn’t dilute the pleasure of a simple thing done simply and well. Now, if we can just wedge in a longer outing before we become prisoners of the house selling process.  (Manic laughter follows…)

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