There is nothing quite as lovely as a boat lying at anchor. She floats, self-contained, tethered to the seabed below. There is a quiet, unassuming sturdiness as wind and wave have her tugging at the anchor. It is a working, complementary relationship between security and freedom; the elasticity of the rode holding her in balance. She dances on the surface according to length, beam, and depth; ever- grounded.
Within the respite of an anchorage, I love looking forward across the water at the cove or island that protects us. I love looking astern at the open water that beckons. The boat gently rocks, awaiting the next leg of the journey.
Clarity exists in the space between the safety of a boat at anchor and the dangers of the unseen hazards ahead.