Friday the 8:19 train from Jamaica to Montauk was crowded with weekenders. Not yet summer people. We departed on time. I shared the south-facing seats with a young man. He was quiet all the way to his destination.
BridgeHampton.
A Hobey Cat saikboat lay in a backyard ajoining the platform. it had been there last year. The trailer tires were flat and high geass surrounded the boat. I text Rick. He knew the owner.
"He's trying to get rid of it."
Not for me. I have no where to keep it.
Back in 1960 my father hauled had an old wooden sail boat from Maine to the Sputh Shore of Boston. We sailed it on Watchic Pond, on which my grandfather and his friends had built a dam to create the small lake. The boat's mast had snapped during a sharp squall. Even summers get rough water in the Pine Tree State.
The boat rotted in the backyard for years never to ride the seas or lakes.
I wouldnt mind the abandoned boat in B'hampton to sail off Navy Beach. never on the ocean. Off Montauk the Atlantic Ocean smashes onto the shore. I hear the waves at night. I wade knee-deep into the surf.
Cold.
43 degrees.
Throughout the week a Nor'Easter had stormed over the East. Temperatures ere in the 40s. Chilly. Today was a gray cold day without the threat of rain or the promise of sun.
The train arrived late in Montauk. Sky still gray. No rain. Windy. Not really spring. We goto work at Winick Diamond. The cold keeping everyone away from the outside. We make sales. I ate fried clams from Hooked. A good landlubberweekend. Happy just to hear the waves.
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