Old Castle Point

Upon soft sands of night, beneath a blanket of stars, jagged edges of a new day dance across the running tide. Dawn’s earliest light shimmering in shades of deepest green liken to ten thousand emeralds all across the small bay as it splashes up against the Old Castle Point breakwater. A ragged thicket of trees runs down to the shoreline from the headland standing in stark silhouette against the whisper of morning streaking the canvas of the distant mainland sky in golden hues. 

Due west towards West Cowes, sheets can be heard in the stillness of dawn ringing and singing against the waving masts belonging to the mass of small bobbing sailing craft moored in the river Medina’s estuary as the early, pearly morning brings a  strengthening breeze. Further out into the Solent salt white horses have started leaping, spraying wave to wave, it will a great day for the sailing.