Towards midnight, the mooring lines slipped of their own accord; the boat eased out onto open water with the aid of a gentle breeze.
Later her engines powered up unbidden, and with a gentle ‘put-put’ she headed towards the estuary.
Beneath the surface of the water, ancient timbers succumbed to the occasional caress of tree roots, the nudge of an abandoned oil-drum, and the scrape of shingled shallows.
Lower she sat, and still lower.
Lionel, blanketed in morphine, did not feel the chill of rising water, nor the tilt of the keel as ballast shifted.
A long voyage, but now his ship was coming in.
How cheery was that, hey??? 🙂 Well, today we were contemplating starting the second leg of our three-stage winter pilgrimage, this time from mid France to the Spanish border. Fine sunny weather was forecast – so we woke up to find the boat frosted with snowflakes, now predicted to continue all day. When I come back, (if I come back) I’m going to be a meteorologist. It seems like a fairly undemanding way to earn a crust…
Rochelle kindly let me have a preview of the photo in view of our travel plans, so I’ll probably be first up today. Thank you Rochelle, as always. And thank you Georgia – a picture after my own heart.