We're anchored off the quay, in Baltimore. Dinghies flit around us; and fiddle music drifts across the water.
I reflect on the manner of our arrival. Was it a coincidence, or did the porpoises, deliberately, lead us away from the rocks?
We beat out of Glengarriff, through the splendid vastness of Bantry Bay....
...tacked our way along the foot of Sheep's Head, and...
...on past Mizen Head.
We surfed past The Fastnet Rock; wind and swell on our quarter, tide beneath us.
I furl the jib, to slow us, off Baltimore's unfamiliar entrance.
The marks don't add up, through my binoculars. I peer at chart and pilotage notes; and again through my binoculars.
The explanation dawns on me: I'm approaching from too far west.
A school of porpoises surfaces on our port (west) side; their manner is agitated; their movements are erratic and splashy.
I sail due east; until I bring the tall white figure of 'Lot's Wife,' high on the cliff top, abeam.
The porpoises swim ahead; smoothly rising and falling at our bow, until I harden up, safely on the approach line.
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Location:Ireland
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