There is nothing quite like a touch of a 15-20Kn SW to ruffle the bay and fill the cloth. Sometimes paddling is overrated. I enjoy having a reliable sail, a stable boat and am forever
looking for a puff of wind. Don't know what happened to the others this morning, but it was a while before they pulled into Potts Point.
Not only does Potts Point have a new loo, BBQ benches and ANZAC memorial, work is in progress for a playground to replace what seemed like an adequate earlier version. The hibiscus trees on the foreshore which swept the sand have been pruned to an
immodest tree equivalent of a mini skirt.
We settled into AM tea as a planer ripped the Sunday quiet asunder. Work continues on the house across the road, the one with an utterly magnificent deck, a deck probably around the same sqm as our entire house. The group then split. Three headed south around Karragarra for a sailing return on the SW. That seemed too much like hard work, especially when there was a beam reach on offer and we wanted to know what has happened to Blakesleys. The scoot over was made in quick time. We found eroded sand banks, felled trees, a couple of camp sites and a new sign declaring it's recently acquired status as a National Park. There was no signage indicating there was no camping, or evidence that there
had been a sign to that effect.
A walk around the area reminded us of the reasons this place is a revered camping place by so many. Dappled shade, ghostly scribbly gums in a gently undulating sandscape with clusters of ground orchids emerging from the leaf litter. However the SW remained as invasive as ever so we were soon donning an extra layer and
heading back. Once Graham had sorted his boom the sails pushed the four prows in a tight line up backed by four grinning paddlers. Given more wind and I think my yellow boat and sail would have held her place, but this time my little sail and relatively stumpy boat conceded the distance to superior waterlines and paddling strength. Bugger. Needed more wind.
The yellow girl is looking a bit worn, her hull certainly has patina. It used to be 100% dry, but after being dropped a few times there are more options for a small amount of water to gain illegal access to the rear and front bulkheads. For a boat with such a light fibreglass layup the Artic Raider has proven to be
remarkably resilient. I find it an incredibly forgiving boat, probably to my detriment. When in desperate circumstances I tend to squawk, no fancy paddle skills are involved (wouldn't know what to do) the boat just seems to look after the situation - one day she will give me a right dunking. In the meantime I will continue to look for the wind, grin and squawk.
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