Woke up in the back of Surfarosa (for that is the name of the trimaran) at Stony Point, where we had to take shelter yesterday afternoon. We had tried a few times to get into the channel that would take us through to Warneet (and then up the creek and home) to no avail. It was dicey. We tried to sail into Hastings, but couln’t make it into the marina there either. The wind was crazy, the sea was choppy, and our little motor wasn’t really up to the job.
So, to cut it short (as I will write up our journey and post it later) I had to bail – and it just so happened that Stony Point is at the very far end of the train line. So at 6.17am M put me on the diesel train, looking somewhat dishevelled (having been woken at 1am by a fishing boat pulling up on the other side of the pier). I got off at Baxter – the station that’s not really a station, and jumped in a taxi that I had booked (thank you L, for texting me the local taxi numbers). Thirty five well spent dollars later (ouch) I was back in the trailer by ten past seven, thwacking an axe into anything I could find that would burn in the woodheater and yelling at the cats as they tried to gnaw my leg.
M remained at sea, unable to return until the wind abated. I think he was thrilled.