Last Sail for the Lost Boys

"And now, the end is here..."
                -Frank Sinatra



I shoulda figured that the solitary freakishly pleasant day last week foreshadowed more freakish but decidedly less pleasant weather to come.

But, it was my day off and October was running on fumes and I was sailing, and I have learned not to try to predict the future while enjoying the present.

  The Dock is looking sparse.

    In fact, the whole marina is tapping out:

      It's days like this that are the reason why we stay in the water as long as possible.  It's the last week of October, the Bay is mirror smooth, the sun is shining, and we are sailing in our shirtsleeves.

  The foliage is still vibrant, if you can see it behind the seagulls strafing the fish tug below:

      And construction on the new Stately Jones Manor proceeds at a steady clip.  Who says you can't get rich by blogging?

     Just kidding.  This property has been the subject of numerous rumours, the latest being that it has been purchased by a flamboyant British pianist who has made a significant fortune writing songs about dead blondes.

  The haze on the water seems more appropriate for June than October.  If you can squint and ignore the falling leaves, you might convince yourself that the season isn't coming to an end.  The haze also plays havoc with the auto-focus on my camera.

     Hilary  Jack and Melanie  and I decided to raft up and meet the newest, as yet nameless, new crew:

    Baasje's spiritual sucessor seems to be right at home.


  As the sun started to set, we cut loose and reluctantly turned for home.

Returning into the marina, I noticed that he water was exceptionally clear.  In fact, I could see bottom. It dawned on me that the water was not only exceptionally clear, but exceptionally SHALLOW.  As I passed the light at the end of the breakwall, I started noting the depth:

So far, so good...

Hmmmm....

Uh...

Er...

Gulp...

 
   Silent self-congratulations on having the foresight to sail a vessel that draws less than 3 1/2'.

 
   

   Ed and his classic Bertram glide through the marina at sunset one last time, before hauling her for the season.

    Our last sail of the season over, we return to the Dock to enjoy one last cockpit pot- luck, toast the departed canine crew,  meet James and Brooke's new crew, Rosie, and generally  wring as much enjoyment out of the last sail as possible.
The one bad thing about great days is that they have to come to an end.
It's pretty much all winter from here.


"Talk the Dock!"