Tender moments

Yacht tender, Leigh on sea., originally uploaded by Bay Photographic.

Took the opportunity, while visiting relatives in Leigh on sea over Christmas, to go for a walk along the cockle sheds in 'Old' Leigh. This dinghy made for a bit of foreground interest, but also reminded me of how much hard work it was to have a boat on a swinging mooring (as opposed to in a marina, tied to a pontoon).
After driving from home, through holiday traffic and being charged a ridiculous fee to park, launching a dinghy and rowing out to a mooring might seem to be the pleasant start to a day of boating happiness.
But only to those who have never had to launch a dinghy and row out to a mooring.
I have had dinghies stored vertically in racks, upside down on jetties, and horizontally in dinghy parks. I have had inflatable dinghies in the boot, GRP dinghies on the roofrack and wooden boats on trailers. And they have all, without exception, either tried to kill me, injure me or destroy my self esteem.
I dropped a 10 foot GRP dinghy on my head as I took it out of a rack in Bowness, slipped a disc while taking an allegedly lightweight marine ply pram dinghy off the roof of my car and broke two fingers while launching a boat from a trailer in Brightlingsea. My tender capsized as I stepped out of it and threw me into Alresford Creek, I once punctured an Avon inflatable on the tiniest nail in Western Europe and I have lost count of the number of times I have set off in front of a jetty full of ice cream eating daytrippers and had my outboard die on me after 20 yards, dropped an oar overboard or filled my boots with water as I step ungracefully aboard.
So, unsurprisingly, I now confine myself to stepping ashore in a marina with proper mooring posts, pontoons and a free car park.
I may be old and stupid.
But I know my limitations.

Winter Reflections

Winter at Bridgehouse Marina, originally uploaded by Bay Photographic.

Took this today at the marina, while checking on Henry. Quite against the odds, given the way it has thrown it down with rain for a week, the sun came out so, after I had washed a leaf off the deck, emptied the dehumidifier, paid my account at the marina shop and sulked a bit after listening on the radio to Arsenal being turned over by Middlesborough, I took some photographs of the boats on the North side of the moorings as the sun set to the South West.
It is generally theorized that the best time of day to take photographs is the 'Golden Hour' as the sun rises and as it sets. In winter, this becomes the 'Occasional Golden Ten Minutes' as the transition from light to dark becomes quicker, and is more often than not accompanied by cloud.
Today, however, the sky was clear, the light was glowing and the reflections in the millpond still water were spectacular.
So, unsurprisingly, the batteries on my camera packed up after four shots.
I have always known that everyone gets what is coming to them.
And, clearly, I am no exception to my own theory.