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| Sailing HideAway |
Linda worked the sails into their resting places while I, unable
to see through the downed sails, stood on the stern bridge deck steering a
course to the channel the tiller at my side.
Bruised, battered, soaked and tattered the
HideAways crept into the Gulfport Channel with a fairly well shredded main sail
and a dingy splintered.
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| Gulfport Florida Channel |
As HideAway, a Com-Pac 23, surged home running before the
swells I stood taller than the bimini watching our little craft below.
The outboard gurgling as it pushed us along, a Fish Hawk cried,
the splash of a fish somewhere, the roil of a wave. I sensed a sailor’s
connection with the mariners of the ancient world.
I Could See for a Thousand Years
The boat rolling now,
homeward bound, as the wind reached her broadsides running free my tiredness
vanished.
All was at peace –
Only the sea, the wind, and we.
I slowed the engine to idle…
