My home by the sea.

I ventured out in Conchita with himself yesterday. If you read my post 'and he calls her Conchita' then you will know that I'm not a happy camper when it comes to sailing. However himself was stuck for a crew and he informed me the night before that I was it.
The day was beautiful and i was praying that there wouldn't be any wind, I didn't tell him that though.
His prayers were answered not mine, there was a beautiful easterly breeze, apparently. We would have to tack out the harbour and the wind would be behind us all the way home which was perfect, apparently.
I had to give myself a little pep talk before we headed off. I told myself that it didn't matter that i didn't know much about sailing. Himself has been sailing in Cork Harbour since he was a child.

This is where I start fretting. He has to climb up onto the deck to hoist the main sail and the gib leaving me to man the tiller and point the boat where he tells me to. That's no problem, I can follow these instructions. The problem is my over active imagination. I imagine him falling overboard, tripping on a rope or just losing his footing and I am left alone on Conchita. It never bothers me that he could be drowning but the thought of being alone on the boat scares the crap out of me.

My father in law John Kidney R.I.P shared this love of the sea and he gave me this poem by Rudyard Kipling  to  help me to understand that a woman is powerless when the sea is calling her man.

Harp Song of the Dane Women

What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

She has no house to lay a guest in---
But one chill bed for all to rest in,
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.

She has no strong white arms to fold you,
But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you---
Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.

Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken---

Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters.
You steal away to the lapping waters,
And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.

You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables---
To pitch her sides and go over her cables.

Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow,
And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow,
Is all we have left through the months to follow.

Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker ?

The upside is that I got over myself and we had a lovely morning, himself didn't fall in thank God and i got some lovely photos.

 Camera settings, camera-Canon 70D, Lens Tamron 10-24mm@10mm, exp 1/250sec, f20, ISO100

Camera settings, Camera-Canon 70D, Lens Tamron 10-24mm@10mm. exp 1/125, f22, ISO 100

Camera settings, Camera-Canon 70D, Lens  Canon 70-300mm@70mm, exp 1/400sec, f9, ISO 125

Camera settings, Camera- Canon 70D, Lens 70-300mm@75mm, exp, 1/400 sec, f29, ISO 160

Camera settings, Camera Canon 70D, Lens  Canon70 -300mm@75mm, exp 1/400sec, f9, ISO 100

Camera settings, Camera-Canon 70D, Lens Canon 70-300mm@300mm, exp 1/400sec, f9, ISO 200

Camera settings, Camera- Canon 70D, lens Canon 70-300mm@70mm, exp 1/400 sec, f18, ISO 400