Some days the only sign of life on the little lake in Nieuwport which is bounded by the boat harbour and the sailing club are a few seabirds idly passing their time fishing or gliding overhead. This was not one of those days.
By the time we’d said our lengthy good-byes to Jørn and Birgit the day was no longer young, and the lake was by no means clear of obstructions. With at least three dinghy races underway on separate courses, and multiple fleets of sailboarders scurrying about with junior sailors under instruction, at times it was difficult to actually see water between them. Given that we needed to cross the lake to resume our homeward journey, this did tend to increase our degree of difficulty a tad.
On the one hand it would be quite simple to blunder through, full steam ahead, hand on horn leaving dozens of alternatively angry and terrified sailors in our wake (always assuming we could travel fast enough to leave a wake, which we really can not.) but that would only end in tears of one kind or another. So we gently picked our way around the perimeter of the fleet causing just a little angst to the beginners who’d strayed off course, more or less sticking to where the navigation channel is on quieter days and arrived at the river entrance without so much as a bug splatter on our windscreen.
A few hours of gentle cruising and completely incident free cruising later, we were back.
I am sure had there been a brass band on hand, it would have been brought out to mark our return such was the welcome we received from the Harbour Master and the few club members who were on hand in the Port at Diksmuide when we arrived. We are here a few weeks earlier than we need to be but that doesn’t matter, this place is starting to feel quite a bit like home.
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