BR33: A New Day

A quiet morning, a working boat, and children at play.

A Soft Start

Just after sunrise, before the working day begins, the slipway at Arniston feels calm. There's a soft breeze coming off the sea, and the sky is full of streaky cloud that hints at rain later. But for now, the light is gold. Still and open.

On the edge of the frame, three children are playing in the shallows. One throws a stick for the dog to chase. Another runs to beat the waves. It’s winter, but the air is warm enough for bare feet and games before school.

In the centre of it all stands BR33, one of the local fishing boats that has spent more mornings than anyone can count on this concrete slip. Painted grey, streaked with rust-red near the base, and solid as ever—it’s not out at sea today. It waits.

The Name That Stays

BR33 is the code painted on the side, and locals know the boat by that number more than any official name. It’s been repaired a few times over the years, patched, sanded, re-coated, but never replaced. It's the kind of boat that carries stories—some told, some not. Fishermen here know which boats are dependable and which ones make trouble. BR33 has a good reputation. Not fast. Not fancy. Just strong, and still seaworthy.

It’s often used by crews fishing for kabeljou or snoek when the swell is right. Sometimes it launches early and returns before the weather turns. Other days, like this one, it stays on land.

Work and Weather

The boat’s absence on the water doesn’t mean nothing is happening. In Arniston, decisions are made by the sea. Wind, tide, cloud cover, the way the ocean feels underfoot—it all plays a role. That morning, clouds started gathering over the horizon. Not enough to cancel a trip entirely, but enough to make a cautious crew wait. Winter rains can arrive quickly here. And when they do, the sea can shift from calm to challenging in half an hour.

Some skippers take that as a sign to hold off. Better to keep your boat dry than risk engine trouble out on the water with a storm moving in.

The Slipway Routine

Arniston’s small harbour operates without fuss. Boats like BR33 are pulled onto the slip by tractor or winch. Nets are stacked nearby. Fuel tanks and tackle are stored in sheds just off the path. And when the boats don’t launch, the slip becomes a playground.

Children often come down before the morning rush. Locals pass by with coffee. Dogs wander freely. The air smells like seaweed and salt, sometimes fish, and sometimes diesel. It’s part of the daily pattern here—a rhythm shaped by generations of fishing families.

The children in the photo aren’t posing. They’re simply living in that moment—running between the lines of sea and shore while the adults keep half an eye on the sky.

More Than a Working Boat

BR33 may be built for work, but in this image, it becomes something else—a kind of landmark. The children don’t stop to admire it. But they run past it, around it, as if it’s always been there. That’s the nature of boats in communities like this. They’re not separate from the town. They’re part of the background—the furniture of everyday life. Used, repaired, relied on, occasionally cursed at—but never forgotten.

Some of the kids playing may one day help push BR33 into the surf. Or maybe not. These days, fewer young people take up fishing. But for now, the boat is still part of their mornings.

A Morning Like Many Others

Not every image needs drama to tell a story. Sometimes it’s the ordinary that holds your attention—a boat on land, children near the shore, a sunrise in progress. Later that day, the clouds thickened, and a light rain settled in. The harbour quieted down. But in this moment, the sea was calm, the dog was happy, and BR33 waited without urgency.

About The Arniston Stories
The Arniston Stories is a photographic series capturing the quiet resilience, heritage, and rhythms of life in the coastal village of Arniston (Waenhuiskrans), South Africa. Through a collection of fine art images and accompanying narratives, the series offers a window into the textures, histories, and natural beauty of this unique place—told one story, one photograph at a time.