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| Thursday, July 24: Forecast winds W 10-15
In the early morning calm, I set out rowing. My destination was Spanish Ship Bay which was named after a Spanish ship which sheltered here during a storm after the crew had mutinied. The bay has many safe anchorages for small boats. I recalled a restaurant at the head of the bay and my rowing cadence increased with thoughts of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee with cream. |
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| Hauling Naomi ashore and scrambling up the embankment, I was disappointed. The restaurant was closed and for sale. In the upper reaches of the bay are many large black floats from which mussels are cultivated. By 1000, the breeze was strong enough to sail again. |
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| A sunny day with a clear blue sky - a perfect
time for a walk on Liscomb Island. Using an anchor over the bow and
another from the stern, I moored Naomi far enough from shore that
she wouldn’t slam on the bottom as the tide ebbed. This large island
is uninhabited. The lighthouse is automated and maintained by technicians
using helicopters. In the past the road was used to supply the lighthouse
keeper and a community on the island. Now the road has become overgrown
and all that remains are the collapsed buildings of the lighthouse staff
and a cemetery hidden in the trees. Nibbling on wild strawberries
delayed my hike to the lighthouse. Grouse and pheasants meandered
across the trail. I sat on the rocks by the lighthouse for hours
watching the endless motion of the sea.
Returning to Naomi, I raised the anchors and lashed them down. For the remainder of the afternoon, I just played with the dinghy. Tacking, gybing, reaching, running - up and down the coast of Liscomb Island I sailed. Occasionally heaving to for a break, then making a passage into open water beyond the lighthouse. Back and forth across Liscomb Harbour, wherever impulse decided. Late in the afternoon, I rowed contentedly over the shallow bar, and into my cove. Another evening of listening to the radio and reading till darkness fell. |