There is something faintly poetic about listening to the marine forecast, and familiar. The voice I hear is the same I've heard in North Carolina for three summers now and, though we've never met, I feel as though we could be old friends.
This morning in rainy Beaufort, ready to go but weather-wary after rainstorms and tornado warnings chased me on yesterday's drive to the coast, the small-craft advisory for the entire weekend set the tone. First, I thought, well, it's only 20 to 25 nor' westerlies (onshore) with seas five to seven feet. But common sense, the desire to paddle another day, and a faint voice in San Diego invariably won over; and the fear of being a discussion point on some such forum as paddling.net on the silly bugger who'd heard the warnings but set out anyway.
And I wouldn't want to be remembered as my dad would sing - which I only recently learned, after hearing the tune for nigh on 46 years, is about a chap, Charlie, in fact, stuck forever for lack of a dime, in the Boston subway - "and she never returned, no she never returned, and her fate is still unlearn'd..." (Perhaps that's the only line of the song my dad knows - I'll have to ask him - not much discussion of Boston in NZ, unless you're an NBL fan - though most Kiwis have a good giggle at the concept of "The World Series".)
And another fact learned by repeatedly listening to the marine forecast; when the chap says "small craft advisory until late Sunday", it never changes, no matter how many times you listen to it.
Update: 1622hrs: The advisory is now through 'til Thursday! And I have plans to head down again this coming weekend...