They are the avenues that connect me to the world. The path that brings me home. The sole attachment between my domicile and terra firma. Aside from 40 or so days a year at anchor they represent the easiest egress ashore.
The lowly dock can be a high-tech creation of concrete and steel or rickety wooden slates laid haphazardly on a floating log. Either way, the intent is the same and they, in all their manifestations, bring me close to the things I love the most about living on the water.
This dock view, like many I see everyday, changes with weather and tide. One day a visiting ship, the other a cluster of dinghies ready for someone to row or a passerby’s camera.