After breakfast at the Waupoos Moose, we decided to stay at the marina another day. Then we decided to head out. Back and forth we went, even to the point of coiling up the power cables, and turning on the engine. Then turning it off again.
Should I go or should I stay?
The question was the weather - and whether or not we'd be able to sail six hours straight to Picton without coming into the path of a thundershower. There have been so many in the past 48 hours; and as wonderful as they are to watch from the dock neither Rob or I want to be awestruck by the lighting on the lake.
We set out at noon, the terns laughing at us from their perch on the break wall.
And we actually managed to get some sailing in - through Adolphus Reach, tacking back and forth. Then when we saw dark skies ahead we dropped the sails and started the motor. Lightning was on the horizon and thunder rolling in the distance, just as we came in to Picton. As soon as we tied up to the government docks in front of the Prince Edward Yacht Club, the rain poured down. Talk about timing!
Today I felt like looking at pictures instead of text, so I pulled out my 'guidebook' to Art and Architecture of the Louvre to help pass the time. It walks through the collections wing by wing and has tons of photos of the galleries and collections. Snippets of text provide interesting backstory - for example, in his memoir The Moveable Feast, Hemmingway recounts how he took F. Scott Fitzgerald to the Louvre exhibitions of antiquities because he was feeling insecure about the size of his manhood. Apparently Fitzgerald didn't leave the exhibition feeling self-assured.
It's really amazing how timelines converge: me in the sailboat, leafing through artworks produced centuries and even millennia ago. The command 'be here now' with the potential to take on almost limitless dimensions of space and time.