The most remarkable and magical time to set sail and head off into the eternal blue. Nature is swept in a barren ambience of solitude. Silence, birds, occasional seals, when the absence of boats and people are replaced with a deep meditative presence. No crowding in the marinas, with only the most dedicated sailors moored in dark afternoons. Sun rises around nine a.m, and is down again before four p.m. It's damn cold in the air, as well as in the sea.
These conditions softens your voice, and makes you humble and careful when under sail. One mistake throwing you over board, and you're done.... forever.
Picture above ; The sailboat in the distance is my neighbour in port, Robert, who's sailing a Hurley 18, a seaworthy little favourite of mine. One of the few vessels I met this wintry november day when the first snow fell in the archipelago.
"Night and day, winter and summer, it weighs upon me — this irresistible home-sickness for the sea"
~ Henrik Ibsen