On Monday morning (September 12), Braesail and her crew motored for about an hour and a half from Sullivan Bay along a fog-shrouded passage to Turnbull Cove, which is probably large enough to be considered a bay. Leaving the dock was a bit tricky because our mooring space was small, but we escaped without mishap. On Sunday morning, Walt had found another sea-star wrapped around our anchor chain as we were preparing to leave the Muirhead Islands, but this time, all we had was Coracle bobbing along behind the “mother ship” after bumping over part of the dock.
Being unable to see our surroundings because of fog all around us and moisture droplets on the insides and outsides of the windows (removed by sponges, towels, and a squeegee) raises my anxiety level, and I keep asking the Captain (comfortable with his chart , instruments, and radar) if he needs anything, or if I should unzip a side-curtain to peer out on the other side of the cockpit to try to spot surface debris, clear the windows, stand on watch out in the bow, etc., which is not helpful but only annoying. As the fog thins and visibility improves, my stomach settles, and I relax and enjoy the ride rather more. That was the case in the morning.
Before 11 am, we were settled in the cove, along with two power boats. A misty blue was creeping over the sky by early afternoon as our friends Michelle and Tom motored into the anchorage in their sailboat, Paradaiso, and we made plans to share dinner in Braesail’s cockpit, with our friends contributing prawns and crab that they had caught.
Walt and I spent a lazy afternoon reading, writing, and considering places to visit during the next week or so, and I organized recent photos into folders on my laptop computer, one containing sub-folders organized by date and the other containing photos arranged alphabetically by location name. Walt made pizza dough and he and I shelled the prawns provided by Paradaiso’s crew, and we four later spent a clear, placid late-summer evening talking about our recent adventures and enjoying the lovely prawn pizza with white sauce that Walt had made–yummm! Some pink cloud puffs decorated our evening sky, but I didn’t have my smartphone handy and was too busy eating and visiting to get it! Later, a lazy seal cruised by, leaving a silvery wake, but we didn’t share our feast with the sleek creature, only the prawn shells we had collected in the galley and dumped overboard. A few stars were winking at us as our guests left in their dinghy; they will probably leave Turnbull Cove on Tuesday, and we might stay on for a bit.