In Which There is More Sailing, and Sunshine

Newtown River turned out to be a very peaceful place to spend the night. We had a wonderfully relaxed evening - we cooked roast chicken, spent some time sitting out in the cockpit looking for any left-over shooting stars from the Persiad Shower earlier in the week. We didn't see any, but we did see 2 satellites, a very bright planet (Venus, perhaps?) it was clearly visible as a disk, using binoculars. And 100,000's of stars - there is something to be said for being out in the middle of the river, miles away from any artificial light (we could see the light haze over Newport, and the riding lights of other boats, but otherwise wonderfully dark.

I had to go home on Sunday, so once we were up and more-or-less decent, and I had fulfilled my obligation as a member of the crew by making cups of tea, we headed back towards Lymington.

It was a beautifully sunny day, with a reasonable amount of wind - enough to make it feel we were going pretty fast, but not enough to induce sea-sickness.

This time, we were extravagant and put both sails up. (there's probably a technical term for this) and we had the wind behind us, the sun was out, and there were lots of other boats out making a pleasing backdrop to my photos.

After arriving at Lymington (and passing the railway station - it would have been possible to moor up and scramble up the pier onto the station, but it was too early, and anyway I don't think that the powers that be would approve.

We moored to some more bouys, and went ashore to find lunch, in which we were 100% sucessful - we went to Lymington Town Sailing Club which has a terrace overlooking the marina, where we sat to have very fresh whitebait, and beer.
We finished the day with an amble around the town. It's a very pretty little town, with a small, cobbled, pedestrianised area full of ice-cream and fudge shops, and places selling buckets and spades. We also found a Chandlery. I haven't been in one before. Fascinating. All sorts of interesting stuff, for the discerning sailor, or any passer-by who might suddenly need a life-jacket, or several hundred feet of rope in assorted sizes, shapes and colours.

I was sorry to have to leave, and take the trains back home. I must start planning my next visit. . . . .