We can’t be sure whether the tiny knot of apprehension was because we had a busy waterway to traverse, because we had developed just the teeniest distrust for Mr Perkins, because the forecast said “sensible people might consider staying one more day”, or whether it was just that we were returning to the scene of last year’s somewhat life-changing mishap.
Whatever the case, we were both experiencing it. The weather did promise improvement, but by the time that happened the tide and wind would be against us, so we called our friend Rob, the harbour master in Dordrecht just to make sure that if the conditions were terrible when we arrived, that help to berth would be at hand.
With his assurance and our magical electronic device to give us at least some warning of ships approaching beyond our visual range, we gave Mr P the final veto.
He confirmed with gusto that he was relishing the prospect of the day ahead. What could be better he seemed to be asking, than a day spent being overrun by ships travelling at twice our speed and appearing from nowhere as the squalls moved around us?
We made it of course, remarkably uneventfully, with those tummy-knots still in place even after safely securing ourselves on the second go, with the considerable assistance of Chris and Anne and a few other onlookers.
Surprisingly, it may take a day or two for the reality of us being here to sink in. We are back where we left off, just a few weeks shy of twelve months from when our travels were so rudely and unexpectedly interrupted.
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