But more than watching boats from the shore, I love to be on a boat and taking in the sweeping view of the land. How beautiful places look from the water! You can see so much and so far; you can get a real sense of a place as a whole. Are there secret spots of greenery amid the buildings? Does a tall tower watch over the village? Are houses in neat lines or delightfully higgledy-piggledy?

In my novels, I sometimes weave in ‘the view from the water’, because it gives my heroine a unique perspective on a setting. Being on the water, not on the land, means she is detached, outside the place, and can take it all in. She views the scene like an artist preparing to paint it, considering the composition: light and shade, colours, depth, texture, movement and stillness. The view can be deeply profound for the heroine, stirring the imagination – and her romantic sensibilities.

In my debut novel, Burning Embers, the story begins on a ship bound for Mombasa, Kenya. Coral is returning to the land of her birth, and her first sight of Africa is at sunrise:

Variant tones of pink were gently spreading into the sky, struggling to seep through the symphony of blues. A few moments later the sun burst forth, dazzling in this multicolored canopy, and the dark outline of the landscape gradually loomed on the horizon, transforming first into the dark green, gray, and russet skirt of the jungle before revealing the bush, rising in layers toward the backcountry. Soon after, the port of Kilindini became visible, comfortably tucked away at the end of the estuary in the midst of vigorous vegetation. Coral could see it peeping out from behind serried ranks of coconut palms and wispy casuarinas trees, while its old lighthouse winked with steadfast tranquility in the half light. To complete the picture, the coastline of thin rolling sand dunes appeared, creating here and there immaculate white beaches.

In Masquerade, set in Spain, Luz takes in a view off the coast of Cádiz at twilight:

On the way back the boat hugged the coast until they reached the secluded beach in the cove of Puesta de Sol. Afloat in twilit waters, sliding across the setting sun, they watched an orange sunset flow like molten gold behind the cliffs, while along the bay the lights of Cádiz twinkled on. Dazzling colours filled the sky. Lonely white clouds turned into flaming swords, deep orange and red marking the west; the peak of the many rocky hills rose like church steeples, shooting forth tongues of flame from the reflecting sundown. In the distance the sinking orb gilded the houses of Cádiz with a special fleeting glory, their windows winking and flashing in the fading sun. Small vessels and steamers were moored alongside the quays; work was over for the day, everything still and tranquil. Soul stirring, the scene was all poetry and romance, depth and mystery.

In my novel The Echoes of Love, Venetia and Paolo take a gondola ride in Venice, which makes Venetia see the city anew:

The sleek black, slightly crooked, boat headed out of the parking lot into the lagoon. There was a kind of breathtaking mystery to the scenery contemplated from this lazily moving romantic boat, differing completely from the experience of watching it from a vaporetto or a motorboat. The Grand Canal was floodlit, throwing a dramatic greenish glow over the ancient buildings, making it look like a theatre stage with palazzi standing transfixed in the limelight…

Venetia caught her breath. ‘I’m moved by the scenery of your beautiful country.  It’s the most marvellous sight in the world. It’s strange, but looking at the same view from a gondola gives a totally different perspective to it.’

Finally, my favourite ‘view from the water’ of them all: Lake Como, as pictured above. Catriona, heroine of my new novel Concerto, is travelling across the lake by ferry to reach the Monteverdi estate, where she is commencing work. She is awestruck by the beauty and serenity of the setting:

Under bright sunlit skies the view of Lake Como was wondrous to behold. A deep sense of serenity overcame her as she stared in rapture at the expanse of blue that lay before her. The lake was the finest of mirrors, never reflecting exactly what was above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudged and broken.

Although Catriona had been tired she found the slow and leisurely ferry ride over the lake exhilarating and almost heart-stopping in its beauty – a lyrical gouache of colour stabbed at intervals by the solemnity of the stately cypress, a tree very much native to Italy. On both sides of the boat the magnificent rocky shores were studded with the gardens of Italian belle époque villas crowded with a wealth of rare trees, exotic flowers and broad lawns, with narrow pink or mellow yellow stone staircases that went down to the edge of the lake. As the ferry glided past, her vivid and romantic imagination conjured up bygone scenes of gentlemen in striped flannels and straw boaters on deck, with ladies in side-buttoned kidskin boots holding their parasols.

Towering over all, and filling half the round of the horizon, reared the mighty Alpine chain with its base wrapped in a robe of imperial purple, flinging its countless crests towards the blue heaven like the defiant arms of the mythic Titans. In the warming rays of the afternoon sun, fragrant blooms were launching their scent on the balmy air while the boat rocked to the liquid ripple of the lake in the infinite silence.

Do you have a favourite ‘view from the water’? I would love to hear about it.