The tale of storing Onawind Blue on land is lengthy and tiresome. Causing angst in various degrees she's lived in the communal garden, under a bridge, on some wasteland padlocked to a chain-link fence and in a passage way leading to the beach. Briefly she was an honorary member of the local sailing club. But her minor fame, uniqueness and stunning looks weren't sufficient to conserve her place on the sand and when a motion for her to pay up or move on was seconded she was hoisted onto her sorry trailer and trundled on the streets once more.
However, the opportunity to build, open and run a beach bar at the same club arose. I dug out all those bits of driftwood and rope I'd been saving for years, built the bar, furnished and stocked it and then, needing an iconic centrepiece, rolled OB back in from the street, washed off the grime and set her up with spotlights inside illuminating the masts against the night skies.
And so while I poured beers, peeled potatoes, grilled fish, flipped pancakes and mixed G&Ts she spent the summer being decorative. Her hull remained dry for months but she was under my wing and at busy moments I would shoot her a glance and feel her calming presence.
It wouldn't be true to say that I built and ran a bar and worked myself to the bone all for my boat but for the sake of romance lets say that it is.