An English Summer 38

 

I scramble out, chest deep in lush fronds of bracken, seaward, along the cliff top, above the dog-leg entrance channel, to Old Grimsby Sound. The Round Island light providing a reference, among the maze of rocks, as it did for Stargazer, feeling her way in, at daybreak, a week ago.

Yellow lichen embellishes speckled grey granite.

Honey suckle roams, wild and free, among the crags.

There is more than a hint of 'Granit Rose,' to the wave sculpted boulders, at the waters edge.

The same dramatic combination of colours, clefts, angles and curves, found to the south, on Breton shores. Perhaps too, beneath the waves, on those of the legendary lost lands of Lyonesse.

I have rounded the northern tip, of Tresco, and followed the coast inland, to arrive at the beach, in New Grimsby Sound.

Jolie Brise lies there, at anchor, off the Bryher shore. The fabled Le Havre pilot cutter. Winner of the inaugural Fastnet Race .'Grand-mere' to the sport of yachting. Sailed, now, by the students of Dauntsey's School. A live lesson in maritime history. 
 

The wind has been edging round, out of the south, into the west, all day, as forecast. Now it is settling, into the north west. There, it is expected to remain, for a week. Opening up the south facing anchorages, of St Mary's and St Agnes, for Stargazer to explore.