His hat looked as though it had been a rich brown at one time although at this point it was a washed out tan. Dust was embedded into it from years of being stowed away in the winter and revived in the summer without even a simple shaking off. The wrinkles on his face were deep and true, jutting into his leathery skin that held just a touch of red from the sun’s many beating hours. His step was a swagger, slow but sure. The hairs on his arms glistened.
If someone warned him that the wind was too strong he disregarded the advice, knowing that he had battled stronger gusts.
If the warning was against a sun too hot, he knew he had endured more powerful rays.
He had experienced every emotion on this boat, and every one was experienced alone. That’s what everyone said anyway, although to him they were shared with his greatest friends, the water, the boat, and his best ally-his sails.