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.
|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…