At the end of a long road, there is a boatyard, where boats are suspended in the air, bottoms sanded, patchy, and naked. To the right of the entrance, there is a gate, and a dirt road leads to nowhere. Nothing on the map. But the guy said “G’day, Mate,” as he ran past me. A leash attached to his waist and an Australian Shepherd panting behind. So I climbed over the gate and walked around the yard and past dirt fields cleared of life. Past bushes and shrubs, and past the mangroves that line the shallows of Whangarei, until, on the horizon, I saw two masts. A schooner. I walked, looking for the bay, but there was no sea. Just fields of tall grasses and wildflowers, and floating above, a lone boat, anchored in the dirt.
Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section below. If you enjoy this story, click “like” to help more readers discover it.
This micro story is part of Harbour Stories, a collection of non-fiction accounts of the places and people I encounter at ports.
About Me
I’m Nestor Lopez-Duran, writing under the pen name N.L. Duran. I am a former psychology professor now sailing around the world with my wife on our sailboat named Blue Buddha. The stories published in Currents & Wind are inspired by the people, places, creatures, and events I encounter at sea.