I arrived in Scarborough at 1930 this evening after a ten and a half hour passage from Grimsby. It was a windless day but the swell has been building due to the never ending northerly winds and was mostly 1.5 to 2 metres. For those not accustomed to such things, imagine a flat-roofed garage or garden shed. Now imagine that every hundred feet the ground moves up and down that much, while you are trying to make a cup of tea or type some notes. Then imagine that you not only move up and down sideways but also front to back, and the you spin round a bit too. Oh, and in between waves someone has planted little mines that are out to get you - I came through a patch of over a hundred crab pots, any one of which had the potential to wreck the engine. Such fun. In fact I have met a chap this evening to whom that very thing happened; pulled the engine off three of its four mountings and bent the prop shaft.
Scarborough is still a fishing port but also very bucket and spade, yet just a few yards from the sea front there are lovely little lines and cottages. Cottaging is quite popular, I hear.
I passed hundreds (no exaggeration) of offshore wind turbines today, and had to change my course for a farm that had just started construction and was only vaguely dotted on the chart. And for what? I leave you to decide.
Meanwhile, here's a rather nice photo of Scarborough in the evening light:
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