An unaccustomed sound awoke me, soon after turning in last night. Determined rainfall, dancing upon Stargazer's decks. The first that I can recall since leaving Chatham, in April. I rush to close the hatches before falling back to sleep.
During the morning the downpour abates to sunshine and showers. Tempting me to take a walk, through the pines, to the stone quaysides of the vieux-port. Along a wooden boardwalk, suspended a metre above the high water mark.
Shoal draft craft (for Pornic's harbour dries to three metres) lie sheltered by tall, tree lined, banks.
In the Anse du Chateau.
The Formosa topsail ketch 'Corsaires de Retz,' a cargo of paying passengers aboard, comes in at the top of the tide. Followed by an ominous, slow moving, black cloud.
I take shelter, beneath a gift shop awning, as thunder crashes and a deluge ensues. Madame la proprietaire emerging, at intervals, to prod the pregnant canvas with a broom. Expertly releasing a cascade of pooled water onto the pavement. Accompanied by a sharp cry of "Attention!"
The cloudburst eases to drizzle. I deem it safe (for the crustiness of the bread) to buy my lunchtime baguette ; and walk back to Stargazer. The beach uncovering before me. My hat gently steaming, in the warm sunshine.
No comments:
Post a Comment