some sail

A duller day than forecast, meteorologically speaking at least. Damp overnight, but warm enough to blow envelopes of balmy air across the supermarket carpark at lunch.

Fifteen feet outside the window I work at, a spider had built a model yacht this morning. The hull was a beech leaf stitched underneath its parent branch by strands of sticky rigging. The mast, which was invisible, but evidently attached to the branch straight above, supported a bermudan main sail and either an asymmetric genoa or a spinnaker. This foresail billowed and bulged pleasingly in the breeze, giving a sense of movement that enhanced the mutual rocking of the branches. Sadly, over lunch some time, the ship foundered in a freshening wind.

Solstice gone; tales of Glastonbury already mudding up and thoughts of coming Wimbledon, but I'm yet to see a stag beetle or a slowworm in the garden. One or two days have been warm enough, but the beetles seem to require a week of good heat and drier conditions than of late. Failure to see reptiles may be more indicative of a lack of gardening, but neither did we have amphibians in the ponds.

Sunday we sailed. A drowsy float Eastwards with tide and wind; the tides flood virtually halving the available wind-speed. Onto the first visitors' buoy at Newtown Creek, which we almost caught on sail, but had to run the engine a minute to pass the starboard marks and beat the inflowing tidal race. We pottered on the shingle bank until pub opening time, then took the tender and a walk up to the New Inn at Shalfleet. We ordered a light lunch at noon, ate (paid), walked, took the tender, raised the main, sailed out the river, unfurled the genoa (and then, finding the wind increased, reduced both sails a little). Five nautical miles back to our home mooring buoy and we were tying up by five past two. Quite a change from the morning's conditions. In the lake, the SW wind was just too strong to be balanced by the outflowing tide, so another minute of engine was needed to hold the boat back while we snagged the pick-up buoy.

The voyage back was so soon over that we settled down to another cup of tea before returning to the pontoon. The weather was just turning soft by then and we got home mildly damp.