Boathouse winch

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At the southern end of Loch Awe, a moderate stroll from home, is an old boathouse behind a shingle beach. Ahead of it lies over 20 miles of Britain’s longest freshwater lake (a term used solely with deference to its technical universality) and this would have been a fine location for a boathouse in the days-long-gone of steam launches and Victorian picnics amidst the midges on the water. The roof is long gone, and only the walls and winch remain, rusting in remembrance of past pleasures.

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