While the fret was still going strong we arrived at our little hotel in Seahouses. Right on the harbour, Seahouses is small. It’s kind of hard to not find a place adjacent to the harbour. The whole town is grouped around it.
Aaron checks in and I want to go out… Filled with expectations. I always like to arrive at the seaside. Smelling the salt mixed with sun screens.
I want to toss the suitcases in the room and run. Have a look towards the islands, and one of them will be our journey tomorrow morning.
The sign post in front of the hotel has come to life. No parking, life boat access. Seahouses has its own life boat, and we picked a good day to come as they are hauling it out of the harbour right on the spot.
The boat could be one of the tumblers, when thrown upside down in storm weather, the newest life boats now have a certain load of ballast that makes the boat tilt back up, to normal position. I would definitely want that kind of life boat to come and save me…
The boat has her own way of getting to and from the harbour. A giant engine with tank tires to have grip on the slope down to the water.
It’s funny to see all the people follow the ship, what is it with people that makes us happy to see such a thing happen. A life boat getting out of the water into the boat house…
I can not even get my own car backward into our garage at home, let alone driving the boat in from behind. That rules out me ever becoming the person parking the Grace Darling… Our bit of exitment for the day ends up nice and dry inside, the crowds disperse. The sea fret is still present, and not budging.
Pretty much wind still on that lovely Sunday, the colors in the harbour muted.
Sailing to Inner Farne, we will be taking one of the Glad Tiding ships, probably nr III, hoping that it won’t rain, no inside cabin available for bird watchers who want to cross to the Islands.
The cabins are for the Holy Island trips, a 3 hour long sailing along the islands without landing.
We walk along the pier, the fog rising and coming down again, at times hiding the whole sea front.
The fog horns trumpet their low sound over the waves, warning vessels that the harbour break walls are in their possible collision path.
I am loving the special light brought on by the sea fret. A band of brown reveiling the blue skies hidden behind.
From where we stand on the pier we can see the other break wall, and a couple of kids are scooping up the last of the sunlight for the day.
We are standing right next to the Fog horn. The little white tower at the end of the pier.
And I have no idea of when the horn goes off, in fact every two minutes. Mr Wonderful has that figured out already. I haven’t so when the horn sounds I am jumping half a meter high. Beneath are the decibels to compare with.
And this is the view that I am talking about on the splendid video at the end of this post.
At times I forget I am filming, so that is the dangling you see, I forgot again, am shooting with my normal camera, talking to Mr Wonderful.
A messy movie. But the sound of the foghorn captured for all my blog readers.
Crank up de sound on your computer and try not to startle… The horn is at the end of the movie… I am ready for some filming classes!
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