I don’t think I’ve ever lived somewhere before where a simple walk into town takes me past so much beauty. You can take the high road, past the multicoloured cottages which look down over the harbour, but more often than not I choose the steps which wind their way down to Breakwater beach.
The pebbles are not easy to traverse, but it’s worth it for the sound of the waves pulling at the shore, the smell of the seaweed and the breeze which whips its way around the cliffs. From there it’s only a little further to the marina.
I love to look at boats – have often wandered down to unprotected jetties in foreign ports just to peek at the vessels that float there, full of so much potential. It’s more than a little bit surreal having them on my doorstep here, and whilst the security in place means I rarely get up close I always pause at that point in the harbour wall, listen to the wind in the halliards and breathe in the heady mix of saltwater and diesel that lingers deliciously in the air.
My last sailing trip was from this marina. Having been a keen but not entirely competent crew member on many yachts over the years I finally decided that doing a day skipper course would be a good idea. I was four months pregnant at the time, and haven’t managed to fit in any sailing since.
When Arthur’s a bit bigger though I cannot wait to introduce him to the unadulterated pleasure of travelling along powered only by the wind.
But in the meantime we will continue to enjoy these boats vicariously as they bob gently at their moorings, masts pointing proudly up into the sky which is in turn reflected beneath them on the mirrored surface of the depths below.
R is for reflections.
Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.