This boat, this tippy sailing tender that once hung from the stern of my grandparents cruser. We first met when I was 12, and it didn't go well. Having raced about, frequently capsizing other, higher performance boats, I was convinced this girl would kill me. With her open waterline and round chine, she was sensitive. An unexpected gust, an ill handled maneuver, and 48 degree water would come flooding over the rail. After one terrifying trip, I said no thanks, not the boat for me.
Perhaps I myself have become less tippy in time. Perhaps with a few more years, and slightly more wisdom, I've learned to appreciate nuanced temperaments.
Whatever the case, when this little boat and I were recently reunited, I fell in love. The delicate style I failed to appreciate in the past, has now become endearing. What she lacks in stability, I make up for with assuredness. What I lack in grace, she has in spades. There is tension and excitement in the subtleties.
On the night pictured, we spent about 2 hours floating in quiet conversation, listening for whispers of the wind. Ahh… those smooth beginnings, curious to see how we weather the first storm : )