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The loosely restrained sail flapped gently in the breeze; it was like a hand waving goodbye to the shore
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Mon Oct 10 2005
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Our last Ride It was a beautiful summer's day. The sun hung directly overhead, blazing down fiercely on us. I lounged back across the gleaming trampoline of my boat, a Hoby 365. Around me Jamie and Steve lay too, taking in the impressive scene. There was not a cloud in the sky and the sea was passive and serene. The air blew gently past in a warm breeze. It smelt of the sea, yet more like a seafood salad then the wretch of a fishmonger. In the distance, seabirds squawked and the sound of porpoises could be heard. The loosely restrained sail flapped gently in the breeze; it was like a hand waving goodbye to the shore we were drifting away from. The wood tan hulls of the Hobycat, rough where the beach had worn them away, glided gracefully through the greenish water. At the head of the boat rested...
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