Beyond the Madness

As you begin a maiden voyage in a boat,  your doubting mind can forecast destruction. I wish I had a dollar for each catastrophization I conjured up for today. It wasn't just me either,  after my boat was posted for sail,  the keyboard sailors predicted that this "vintage sailing dinghy" would 've riddled with rot!

So, bilges were sounded, bare timbers coated and wheel bearings greased.  But doubt lingered,  peaking as we neared the water's edge for launch,  and the christening of a new name.  

But like the experienced timber boat she is,   "Lurgy" seemed to take me by the hand and sail herself. Within seconds we were floating in space surrounded by nature and a silence only sailing in a calm can offer.   

 Instantly,  the strains of boat restoration, sole parenting,  car repair and self employment melted away. Just me and my boat,  no electrics,  no motor,  no phone,  on the smallest highland impoundment for miles.   

"Lurgurina" was afloat for the first time in 10 years, her centreboard housing not rotten, ghosted a along in whisps of a breeze. Hardly a ripple bothered the water's surface,  yet here we glided along. Them,  like a puppy after play, she lay in enveloped in a mid-morning Summer calm enjoying a fearless slumber.  All the while I was as breathless in amazement as I recall those 50 something years ago as a virgin sailor. 

The clear sunlight literally beat us down so I found comfort in the tiny cuddy cabin.  A fender for a pillow, sails hanging limply, I drifted off.






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