There is a sonar screen on the dash of the Thea G. It announces the depth in large numbers as well as an ever-changing graph of the sea floor that displays the lay of the underwater land. I think how good it would be to have one of these built into my body. A mechanism to show me groundswells; when abrupt drop offs are near where depth charges are hidden.
I pull on my rubber boots and head for shore with Teak and my camera. Remnants of a cannery protrude from soggy grasses. I snap shots of a blue shipwreck covered in grasses and moss, almost invisible. I must take a look at both sides to make out the complete name: the Blue Empress. She's from Shelby, MT. Oh, to know her story. I love my boots. They give me access to water-logged areas, shore and waves. Their support and traction allow me to hike.
Teak and I return to the boat. Ron is asleep on his mattress in the galley. I grab a cigar and another jacket and return to the deck. It's almost 11:00 p.m. and the waters are a soft tangerine orange with sunset. Two seals swim off the port side; bald eagles cry, fly and scrape the water with their talons.
I am at ease in this calm on the edge of the wild.