Ten tumbling days. “Have you heard the news, the Queen has died.” Tears. Shock but not unexpected. Her lifetime remembered. A long life. Sadness. Sorrow. Silence. My lifetime remembered. A Coronation baby.
Now embarking on a sailing trip with The Ocean Youth Trust. A hopeful return woven into a life time of sailing. Could I hold myself together? Sadness and tears close. Reconnecting joy and freedom from years past. Nervous. Small bunks. Big winches. Big boat. New crew. Nervous.
Flowers at every gate. Silent passing. The Queen travels south from Balmoral. Tears. Black. Long steady progress. Transfixed. Smiles, laughter remembered. Tears. “The Royal Parks have requested no more marmalade sandwiches to be left for the Queen.”
Warm clothes, waterproofs, t-shirts, shorts. sleeping bag, pillow. All set. Nearly. Hesitation. Sadness and tears. Friendly gathering. On board. Names remembered, just. “We’ll leave Ocean Village today and anchor in the Solent for supper tonight. Weather permitting we hope to sail to Poole tomorrow.” Soothing Solent sleep. Tucked into my bunk with a shelf.
Our routine. Breakfast, cleaning before sailing. A big boat. Thorough. Sailing now. Instructions on main lifting. Two stages. Many ropes. Try to remember….Life jacket, checked, “Do we need full waterproofs” “Yes”
Boom lift first…”Take in on the Topping lift!” “Ease the Halyard.””No.. your hands are the wrong way round!” “Has someone remembered the Kicker?” “What are these ropes for?” “Two, six heave!” “What point of sailing are we on?” “Backwards downstairs please!” “Anyone want a hot drink? Tea? Coffee? Oat or Cows?”
A pause. Care needed. No wind, raining. Engine on. Long channel, long wait, wet, cold, anxious. Poole at last. Shower. Rest. HSB with warm group forming.
Still they queue to pay respects to The Queen in Westminster Hall. Over 12hrs waiting. Silent stream. I watch. Bunk reverie. Small screen. Sadness seeps in.
Long night. Slow restful start. Confidence settling. Steady sailing. Round the Isle of Wight. Sunset anchorage. Shooting stars. By morning we are in routine, dancing as we clean. At last the weather favours us with breezy, easy, sailing. St Catherine’s, Foreland, Ryde. As a crew we are working together now, watching, willing, teamwork “Ease that sheet now, perfect.”
Back to base in Ocean Village. Packing and farewells. Warm embraces friends made. An invitation to return next year. I wonder.
And still they queue in London a flowing stream of steady steps, thousands, thousands, thousands come, paying their respects.
© sue orton 2022
sue orton | gathering threads 