Mirror Calm

   The wise among us have an admirable attitude towards weather forecasts.They appear to discount them entirely, but are rarely caught out in severe weather. How do they do it?

   Today's forecast was 10-15 knot NW going SW in the afternoon. So I was surprised to find only 5 knots when I launched out across the passage. I was nonplussed to be almost becalmed 15 minutes later. It got so light that we couldn't hold course in the early flood tide and we did a big swerving reach across current onto a small deserted beach to wait for wind.
   As often happens on beaches with no footprints, the time ashore was really peaceful. On a mangrove lined island, there was no-one about to annoy us or interrupt my marine meditations. The Mirror' s transom made lapping sounds on the flood tide, the eyes feasted on virgin white sand, sunbleached and decaying mangrove roots and various bits of vegetative flotsam on the high tide lines. The winter sun shone brightly for the first time in weeks, so after coffee and chocolate I stretched out to soak up the serenity. Unfortunately, I've been trying to avoid a head cold, and I doubted my ability to wake up if I fell asleep. No rest for the wicked, besides a SW began puffing through the dozy calm.  I pushed myself to gather the anchor, hoisted the sails and got off sailing.
   Heading around the east side of Bulls Island a little sailboat was coming downwind under power, so taking the wind more over the port quarter I closed in only to find a snooty skipper who refused to wave! Anyway it would take a lot to dampen my mood, this was just the tonic my soul yearned for.Close to the lee of Bulls Island, the wind headed us (NW), so we hardened up, heading N along the windward side of the passage.

   After a very long half hour, the wind got decidedly wobbly and the tide took over - we were going backwards over the bottom. "Man the oars!" the skipper bawled. Sails lashed, centreboard shipped and rudder hauled up, we paddled on right round the N side of the island. We made way between mangroves and oyster leases in about a foot of water. I amused myself by studying the tortured twists of the mangroves of our port beam and searched the larger trees for an Osprey' s perch that I'd been told existed nearby.The entire port was under the spell of an oily calm. Infernal combustion engines could be heard many miles off. Another yacht motored back to its mooring; how bloody insensitive!.  A yelp above drew my attention to an Osprey taking flight away along the shore. Seeing it land further along, I grabbed my camera from the stowage bucket and switched it on, ready for action.As we approached again it seemed less alarmed. Perhaps we'd surprised it before? Now it seemed watchful but more relaxed, I raised my camera and just kept shooting as we drifted ever closer. It did take flight but luckily I snapped it in flight and got only a blurry photo.
   We ended up rowing on all the way back to our launch ramp right on dusk. A half a day's sailing and a half a day's rowing.