Now that the Trow exists as a 3d structure it seems unfair to continue referring to the boat with the impersonal ‘it’ or ‘my Trow’. The hull is a physical presence in the garden. What were six unwieldy sheets of plywood 3 months ago now compose a form of jaw-dropping harmony. (Excuse the purpling of my prose, I’m bewitched.) And the fine-lined expression of beauty demands a name and a gender. So here goes, the official online baptism. Onawind Blue.
Onawind Blue has the distinction of being one of the most pleasing fixed forms that it has been my pleasure to ogle. Her hull, though still not faired, has surprise moments of unqualified beauty. There's the sweetest hint of flare on the bilge chine just at the shoulder where the bows open to the beam. Such traces of modest grace are almost impossible for the camera to capture; they are the elusive inhabitants of the third dimension that wink at us only in moments of fortuitous alignment. And when they wink it’s like (I’m afraid I can’t find a pc way to express this.) a chance view of the perfect cleavage, that leaves your eyes wide and your pupils unnaturally dilated.
Then there’s the line of the sole rocker that blossoms into the even spread of the stern. Again beyond the capacity of the camera’s lens. It’s a gentle transition that’s so natural, so stylish it’s like (ehem, I’ll try and do better than with the previous simile.) the elegant unfolding of a leaf as it reveals a mature form.
This boat’s going to be a head-turner alright and I’ll bet she’ll set many a lubber with the gleam of the sea in their eye to dreaming.
(Well that was all rather over the top, Onawind Blue seems to have loosened what little grip I had on the legendary British reserve.)