Monday dawned blowing a gale again and raining hard, so my grand daughter’s first sail was confined to moving berths to make way for the Challenger yacht fleet.
We then commandeered the Brownsea island ferry (the only passengers) and set off in our bright red foul weather gear to explore the island. The sheltered woodlands soon had us stripping off and enjoying the muggy warmth finding peacocks, and perky bantam cockerels but no red squirrels.
There is a large stone commemorating the first scout camp on the island, and there is still an actively used site where Scouts and Guides come to enjoy the magic of the island. It all reminded me of the many good times I had as a boy scout, and all the fun we had camping, learning to cook on open fires, and constructing complex tables and frames with logs and sisal baling twine. Baden Powell's bust stands proudly near the entrance to the Castle. He did very well - but it is sad that this is much less widely enjoyed by young people.