Sea as lumpy as a sailors chin, sixteen hands frozen to oars, sun bouncing off paddles, rhythm as steady as a heartbeat, the bow a dolphins dive, eight happy women, hands thawing on pontoon. ©
Unnamed black & white bird, smooth carney waves, mist of rain whispered across ocean from the lizard, men’s crew sliding on a greenly pontoon. ©
Sea as tricky as a basket of eels.Effortless, amused guillemot riding the curve of the waves, watching us with a birdy glint. spray from oars a lemonadey fizz. Mens boat a sliver of silver under winter sun. Into the harbour we turn back to Yellow and Blue, arms a twist of muscly rope, or so it seems. Hearts pumping like beam engines, dreaming of Scilly's seas. ©
An offshore north by north- west, a south-easterly blowing a Captain Harvey's bellow. Up by Low-Lee, a teasy breeze off shore and inshore, whipping up a westerly Sally Gunn, chased closely by a western-easterly-southerly-nothern gust of a midshipmans chest. The sea's a tricky lover, tempting us out with a gentle offshore-inshore kiss-of-a breeze, then up by lifeboat, tossing us carelessly aside like a salty Don Juan. A hard row in against "the like a cat in a bonfire, don;t know which way to turn" wind, we were all to one side like Smoothy's crab. Gulls welcomed us in, like frantic bunting against a steely sky. ©
We slip out of the narrow gaps as if carrying contraband, rum and lace, brandy and dubloons. Sea a turquoise aquamarine, quiet as a sock draw. Past the gape of Penlee quarry, past the rust and burnt umber ferns on the cliffs, not a gannet or gull in sight. They must know something. Second row, a streak of blue sky to tempt us, rumours of rain backing off up to the Lizard . Then, out at Low Lee, in it comes, slanty and wetter than a bucket of fish, sea bad tempered, a sneaky mist with it's friend the wind. Back to the loving arms of Newlyn harbour, Neil the cox a human shiver, the rest of us Wet- Ass -No- Fish. Back home dry-clothes-warmth creeps over me like a sigh. ©
Cleaning the boats, tip side up, keel a beard of seaweed and barnacles, methinks I glimpsed a tattoo of finger marks on the bow, five on each side, a lonely mermaid perhaps? The ghost of Captain Weirdbeard trying to catch a lift home? Wind too teasy for us today, sea outside the harbour a basket of wrestling kittens and lions. Up and down past the restless fishing boats, our oars like windmills. ©
Every year hundreds of ladies dress in pink and take part in the Race for Life raising much needed funds & awareness for Cancer Research UK. This year, 2014, some of Pendeen ladies took part, not only did they represent the club but they ran their hearts out for a great cause.
If you would like to donate to help the ladies raise funds for such a worthy cause please use the email facility at the bottom of this page.
WELL DONE LADIES YOU DID US PROUD