Brighid called at five. I closed the gallery, and by 5:40, Rebecca and I were on the water, paddling toward Webb Cove, where we met with a small entourage from Old Quarry. We headed out past Grog, and Bold. I haven't paddled that much with groups, and I've occasionally found the differences in the way we paddle frustrating and not very safe. Last night though, we paddled at about the same pace, stuck closely together and all seemed to have an intuitive grasp of how to move around each other.
After a break on Millet as the sun went down, we headed back. The breeze had settled down to a faint dry warmth on the face, and the water surface turned glassy, saturated with deep, evening colors.
The Victory Chimes and another schooner had anchored near Bold Island, so we drifted past. The passengers seemed to find us as interesting as we did their boat. The mosquitoes were also taking an interest, so we kept moving. Rebecca and I turned away from the group and, turning on our lights, headed toward the lights of Stonington.
