A Journey Around My Room

I bought this wooden model of a fishing trawler on the island of Skye in 2006 when we visited Scotland for the second and probably last time. It wasn’t that it was particularly pretty or anything, though it is.

What it reminded me of was what I would see out the second-floor window of our room in a B&B in Portrey on the island of Skye. I would wake up before my wife and look out on to the dock and the bay. The B&B, which was above a pub, sat right on the dock in a line of connected houses, all painted in different and bright colors. Ours was purple; at least that was what it looked to me. I’m color-blind. It makes for some challenging viewing.

Anyhow, I would wake about seven each morning and sit at the open window – it had no screen, but the gulls who walked along the outside window ledge never came in – watching the birds and the boats bobbing at anchor in the small bay. A few minutes after the hour a small van would pull up along the ramp that ran down along the dock into the bay where there was a dingy waiting. The men – 2 or 3, usually no more – would get out and begin to unload the van, laying coolers, thermoses, fishing rods, and other necessary gear for the day. 

One man would carry things down to the dingy, get in, and wait for the others to bring the rest of the stuff. Once the van was unloaded, one man who was the driver would take it further along the dock and parked it, returning to the others.

Once the dingy was loaded and everyone was in the small boat, they untied it, started a small outboard motor, and began to move into the bay towards the anchored fishing boats. 

I could hardly hear the motor as the dingy quickly moved into the bay. When it reached the men’s fishing boat – similar to the picture I have of the small model – the process was reversed and everything was unloaded.

Next, the engine on the fishing boat was started – I could hear this as well as see the black smoke from it – and the men were sure everything was okay; the dingy was untied from the trawler, anchored in the bay to wait for the trawler’s return that evening. The trawler then began its chugging out of the bay for the day’s work.

From driving up to the dock to moving out of the bay took 20 minutes…every day. And I heard very little words spoken among them…very little.