I’m on
the coming Sunday.Opened a bottle of champagne, I’ve bought for a different occasion, and called the marina. Told that I’ve checked with the weather god Prognosis and it promises -3 and 2 (5) m/s from NW (feels like -7). Whatchathink? The marina said: “Welcome”.
Bloody matured of them.
Poured a coupe and said that I’m sorry I’s sour the previous time.
A short discussion followed. I made my points, but accepted theirs. They own the enterprise, which wasn’t said. Bloody mature of them.
Took a sip from the coupe. Woosh… and got to hear that we’ll be paddling deeper into the fiord away from the open sea. Some places there are so shallow the kayak scraps the bottom: no rocks, no sea grass for the crustaceans to hide; no depth for small fishes to escape. Nothing to feed on for the next step of the food chain pyramid…
… and a couple of kilometres longer, than my usual route, which’s good, the days growing longer and all. And the very place I’ve seen my first sea star at. And a sea eagle. And enchantedly, Hänsel-und-Gretelly beautiful behind the turn island….
And no way for seeing a seal: too shallow for them.
I’ll always love you, my beautiful seal. As in Whitney Houston.
But I’m on.