crabs – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (134: Kilcullen Would Have Been Too Far Away)

One evening we were given a trip from Port St Charles into the Atlantic Ocean.

Flanked by the lowering sun we then encountered Kilcullen towing New Horizons.

Quite why John Peck and Fraser Dodds, who manned the rowing boat New Horizons, needed the attentions of the support boat at this point, I am not sure, for they are given in the statistics of the Ocean Rowing Society as having completed the race. Kilcullen, you see, is one of a group of vessels deputed to be on hand in case of need by rowers in distress. I understand that, because they tended to stay behind the slowest competitors, these yachts would be a good 500 miles away from the leaders.

Very soon after this, we experienced one of the dramatic gold and indigo sunsets that Sam had enjoyed during his 59 days at sea.

By this time the crew of Kilcullen were relaxing in silhouette.

The next morning a cast of crabs danced the side shuffle on the rocks.

Sam, always having been one of the leaders, told us how the waves could toss his little boat considerable distances through the air.

The purpose built rowing boat was designed to keep upright. Provided. That the windows to the small cabin remained closed.

One morning my son was woken by the hailer of a cargo vessel asking whether he needed assistance. He informed them that he had no need of it. Off they sailed.

Then, out of the blue, the ship turned and sped back towards Pacific Pete.

Just imagine the bow wave. This didn’t send Sam’s boat any distance. Instead it sent it in a circular spin in which it rolled over twice.

Had the windows been open Sam and his boat would have joined his camera on the bed of the ocean into which it had slipped. He didn’t mention this on one of his weekly telephone calls to me.

A Tattooed Jet-skier

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Yesterday, Jackie, having set a border with transplanted heucheras some weeks ago, thinned out the other plants in the small bed to the left of the rose garden entrance. As Aaron said, this increased the sense of space.

One of Aaron’s tasks this morning was to prune the plants over the arch to the front garden;

another was to fix spikes to the top of the Westbrook Arbour to prevent perching pigeons pooing onto the bench beneath.

Late this morning Jackie drove me out with the intention of photographing the New Forest Marathon. Unfortunately, because of road closures, and my inability to walk far enough along the paths that would lead to the runners, we abandoned the idea and went home to lunch, after which an amble round the garden was possible.

We still have a number of lively clematises, like this Polish Spirit in the Dragon Bed alongside the Shady Path,

and this Hagley Hybrid in the Rose Garden,

where is also to be found glorious Gloriana,

pink-cheeked Mum in a Million,

and Rhapsody in Blue harmonising with verbena bonariensis.

Peach Delight still stretches over the Oval Bed,

where nasturtiums echo rudbeckia,

itself found in the Palm Bed,

also home to helenium

and echinacea.

Bees swarmed blushing sedums

and Japanese anemones;

a wasp sought saxifrage.

Perhaps a spider’s spinning a modest veil for Florence sculpture.

Gauras have proved difficult to grow here. An exception is this one swaying in the Weeping Birch Bed.

This fuchsia curtains Elizabeth’s Bed from the Rose Garden.

In the late afternoon we visited Mudeford Quay which thronged with visitors, Many of whom were enjoying themselves catching crabs, although they snared more seaweed. The secret, which enabled one group to fill buckets with the unfortunate creatures before tossing them back into the water, seemed to be the bacon bait, which, to my mind, would have been better served flavouring a sausage casserole.

Taking advantage of the low tide, one dog walker wandered along the sandbank, passing the Isle of Wight, and retracing his steps.

Just as I was about to leave, a tattooed jet skier sprayed into sight and navigated his way between the port and starboard buoys.

Early this evening, Jackie rushed in for the camera, rushed out with it, and returned with a backlit image of the heuchera I had photographed this morning.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid pork paprika; wild rice; crunchy carrots, and our own runner beans, followed by her sublime bread and butter pudding. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while my sister and I finished the Fleurie.

Not A Dog’s Dinner

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After a boring morning’s admin, I helped The Head Gardener plant tulip and allium bulbs and flowering chrysanthemums. We then enjoyed a salad lunch and drove to

Lymington harbour,

where the rippling water reflected the boats and the blue sky with its attendant clouds

that had been depicted on the canvas above by a skilled painter.

Rowing boats were moored beside the jetty on the seaward side of which yachts were being berthed.

Squawking gulls landed hoping for titbits.

Other craft were coming and going all the time.

Emerging from the forest of masts, a small ferry boat chugged into harbour,

its master steered it to its mooring,

and the passengers disembarked.

The mother of one family returning to land told me that, on this afternoon of sunshine and showers, they had sailed through heavy rain, so it was only now that the junior pirate had been able to wear his Puffin hat.

Once she had fixed the trophy in place, he trotted off clutching his mother’s hand, while his Dad carried his sibling and everything else.

Walking into the first shot of the ferry boat is another photographer, who, when I showed him my portrait of him, smiled and said: “That’s what photography is for”.

Soon a working boat came into view and came to rest at the fishermen’s corner.

I wasn’t sure what was going on here, but a small terrier’s nose gave her a pretty good idea.

She needed some restraint to keep her away from

the slowly jerking crabs piled on top of each other in strong boxes.

One of these living creatures climbed over the lip of its container and landed on its back on the quayside. In my childhood I had often righted stag beetles in the same predicament, but I didn’t fancy providing a helping hand on this occasion.

Instead, I alerted the young man who had brought in his boat, mentioning that I wasn’t going to pick it up. Describing the crab as an escapee, he demonstrated that it couldn’t pinch because their claws were nipped when they were caught. This certainly wasn’t a dog’s dinner.

Before leaving, I walked along Quay Street

to the bottom of Quay Hill, feeling quite pleased that the car was parked by the waterside, so I wouldn’t have to follow the others scaling the heights. The little dog somewhat impeding the older woman’s progress was happy to continue once the younger woman carrying an infant had torn herself away from the shop windows.

On we travelled to the east of the forest. These ponies on the land along Thorneywood Road were soon to be spooked by a vehicle that turned round the bend towards us. This sent the animals running around in rather frantic circles.

Many others were grazing among the gorse. As so often, one smaller variety incongruously tagged onto the big boys.

Gwen and Yvonne may prefer to skip what follows.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent liver and bacon casserole, mashed potato, carrots and green beans. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2014.

Atlantic Sunset

Today, I continued scanning colour slides from Barbados in March 2004. Yesterday we tracked a pirate ship from Port St Charles into the Atlantic Ocean.

Flanked by the lowering sun we then encountered Kilcullen towing New Horizons.

Very soon after this, we experienced one of the dramatic gold and indigo sunsets that Sam had enjoyed during his 59 days at sea.

By this time the crew of Kilcullen were relaxing in silhouette.

The next morning a cast of crabs danced the side shuffle on the rocks.

This evening Jackie and I dined on a set meal for two from The Happy Wok in Pennington. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cimarosa Reserva Privado malbec 2013