It must be January. A pale sun didn't provide much warmth this morning as I went down to the river. Once on the water, I found my rudder was frozen and I had to work the pedals gently for several minutes until the lines came free.
But I was dressed for the cold, and once I got moving I was reasonably comfortable. A north breeze was blowing, but not the sort of screaming gale that makes me want to ditch my boat and hop the next one-way flight to the equator. And the temperature had risen above the freezing point by the time I got back to the dock: the water that had dripped onto my deck and my pogies was in its liquid state.
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