Brave Young Sailors. Yachtboard Fun
Lady Mary was being prepared for the Atlantic passage in Almerimar. It is a small town in southern Spain, about 120 miles from Gibraltar.
The marina here is large and blends very naturally into the townscape. Some of the berths are right between the houses. It is very cosy and sheltered from the wind—only where cars would be parked in ordinary courtyards, here there are boats.
Because the place is so exceptionally harmonious, the whole world and his wife comes here for their Sunday promenade.
Ladies walk their little dogs, while boisterous groups take over the bars and cafés from early morning. Fashionistas and/or visiting tourists storm the souvenir and hat shops, as well as the little shops selling Eastern incense.
And of course, it was on this quiet, sunny day that the children remembered the bosun’s chair swing. During the quiet weekdays, stormy weather had made it impossible to attach the swing to the mast. But now everything had come together perfectly. Just the right time and place. Well, the right time, anyway :).
The brave young sailors have fun
Nastya expertly secured the swing to the spinnaker halyard with a proper sailor’s knot, while Lada bounded around the deck. Cats and people strolled past.
The idyllic atmosphere of the children’s deckside frolics was disturbed by an overzealous champion of children’s safety. First, he tried in Spanish to shoo our young sailors into the cabins.
When that failed—the children had no idea what he wanted from them—he began calling for their father. Unable to stand it any longer, the brave young sailors retreated to the wheelhouse. Lada, however, immediately returned to the deck, sending the man into an even greater frenzy.
By the time I appeared, the child-protection brigade consisted of the moustachioed man and two elderly ladies with walking sticks. When they saw me, they filled their lungs and began talking over one another in a non-Russian language, trying to persuade the negligent mother—that would be me—that little ones should not be allowed to jump around the deck on their own, because they might drown. My “No problem” and “Don’t worry, it’s OK” made no impression on either the busy-body or the old ladies.
The man shook his head and stalked off angrily. Furiously brandishing their walking sticks, the grannies followed the defender of children, and their outraged cries echoed from the marina façades for another minute or so.
After a moment’s thought, Nastya said, “Oh well, I suppose we can’t climb around on the bow now—they might call the police.”
“Go on, climb around. Just make sure you don’t fall off—it’s dirty after the storm.”
Apparently, my main concern if the children fall into the harbour water is the laundry afterwards. It is a good thing the old ladies and the busy-body do not know that.
And even better that none of them saw how this photo was taken :):