Most of the rain this year in Maine has been of the blowing sideways kind or of the raining cats & dogs type. Each droplet is perfectly formed and separate from its neighbors. They make a distinctive sound when hitting Carrie Rose’s roof. In the water, each drop creates its own ring of wavelets that interacts with the other circular wavelets until disappearing into the water’s surface.
The clouds are different: low lying ones intermingled with fog, forest, and mountains, but a distinct cloud layer above radiates fluorescence light below.
The rain cycles through: light and almost ignorable to heavier which has me searching for my rain slicker. The dingy, tied to the starboard side, floats by the pilothouse and I see puddles forming in it. This should help wash some of the salt and grit out of it.
It has been a busy day. We slept in after last night’s storm generated by the remnants of hurricane Henri. In the morning, we rowed to the dock to pay for two more days on mooring #6 after realizing that we were too lazy to attempt to move. Then, some how I got the energy to take the sun damaged wee-lassie canoe off the pilothouse roof and put into the water.
It has been years since I did this, so I had to reinvent the wheel about the best way to get it down and into the water, and then more importantly how to get myself into it. To my surprise, the process went smoothly and once I began to paddle, I realized why I love this boat. It is the perfect personal paddle and it made me want to build another one.
Instead of the circumnavigation around the harbor I had planned, I approached several close by boats and hovered chatting about cruising related topics: anchorages, engines, bad fishermen’s behavior, and various other calamities common to the cruising life.
All and all it was a frivolous morning and early afternoon . . . just perfect.
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