A scarlet junk, the flag of Dorset fluttering at her peak, tacks her way through a maze of withies and channel markers. The Purbeck Hills, mauve and mysterious behind her. Treading South Deep's silvered waters, in the morning sun.
A Dart catamaran whistles by.
Followed by a Robber, under spinnaker. Poole harbour is awakening, on the Summer Bank Holiday.
I breakfast in Stargazer's cockpit. A Shrimper drifts down toward us, past Brownsea Castle, on the tide. Her sails robbed of wind, by the wooded cliffs of the island.
At the turreted gate, ferries and sightseeing boats queue, to collect and deliver their passengers.
The houses, of Sandbanks' millionaires row, look on from the mainland shore.
Whilst, at the harbour mouth, boats, out for the day, play 'chicken' with the rumbling steel might, of the Sandbanks Ferry.
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