Her days run from a swim off the stern at noon to dinner in the cockpit at dusk.
In the sun
The days are spent out here, between the swim platform and the bow.
Late morning, running down the bay at 30 knots, the wake folding white behind you and the shore sliding past.
Heading out with open water ahead, and nowhere you have to be before lunch.Afternoon off a wooded shore, the platform down and the water a step below your feet.
Anchored off a sandy beach, the bow is yours for a long read in the sun and a nap after it.
Anchored over green water with the shade up aft, and a quiet corner of the deck for each of you.Near sunset the sunbeds up top are still warm, and the platform aft is down for one last swim.
A long lunch under the overhang, bare feet on warm teak and the water close enough to hear.
Under the sail after a swim, salt drying on your shoulders while the table is set for later.Stepping in from the cockpit, where the glass doors open wide and the breeze follows you into the salon.
Out on the bow at anchor, cushions at your back and the whole of the bay laid out in front of you.
A lunch that runs into the afternoon, the shade still up and nobody in a hurry to leave the table.
Out of the sun
The salon for slow mornings, and the cabins for the nights after.
Back inside after a swim, a throw on the sofa and the water still in view on both sides.
A slow morning, walking forward through the salon with a coffee and the bay on every side.Mid-afternoon on the sofa, a throw across your knees and the sea running past at eye level.
Breakfast at the dinette, flowers on the table and the morning shore in the window beside you.
Late afternoon in the salon, the skylight open and the cockpit table waiting just past the doors.Up front beside the helm, watching the next anchorage come up through the windshield.
Evening in the master cabin, towels rolled on the bed and a sun hat left where you dropped it.
The guest cabin at night, the reading lights low and the blanket turned back for sleep.
