Day 107

Stern Lines and Salt Glands

By midday the sun peaked and the tide slowed. Kevin pried up rotted dock planks with the crowbar, the wood soft and waterlogged beneath his leverage. "The planks are getting soft, Kevin. We need to replace them before the boat comes in," Jenny said. "Aye. Two planks, starboard side. Got the replacement timber cured in the shed. Need the crowbar and a low tide to lever the old ones clean." She fetched the crowbar while he stacked cured planks clear of the waterline. "Good. I'll check the stern line attachment points while you're at it." He gave her a nod and turned to the first rotten plank. "Nearly free at the butt end. Going to work it back now."

Dawn found them on the dock as the breeze lifted off the shore. Kevin checked the tension on the newly reinforced stern line while Jenny organized damp seed packets. The rising tide let him finish the splice, securing it at fifty percent before the heat climbed. Jenny documented local plant morphology, her notebook filling with observations of sea beet salt glands.

Heavy western rain hammered the roof by afternoon, driving them inside. Kevin pushed the stern line reinforcement to ninety percent while Jenny sketched sea beet morphology by lamplight. A rat had gotten into the pantry. In the evening they prepared limpets at the kitchen table. "Water's hot yet?" "Give it a minute." "Mm." "It's the only thing we have." "It's enough." She added salt. "Shells first. Grit ruins the meal." "Just rinse them in the fresh water first. It'll take the salt off." The rain tank gained fifty litres. The barometer dropped. "Overflow joint's the weak point. I'll check it before I turn in." "Put a bucket under it just in case." "On it." "Don't let the wind catch the door shut." "Wedge it open with the boot scraper." They ate, listened to the downpour, and turned in.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Morning Inspection

Kevin and Jenny stand on the dock planks as the light breeze picks up from the shore. Kevin checks the tension on the newly reinforced stern line while Jenny organizes the damp seed packets for the day ahead.

Kevin utilized the rising tide to finish finishing the dinghy stern line reinforcement, ensuring the splice was secure. Jenny spent the morning organizing the heirloom seeds and documenting local plant morphology despite the increasing heat.

🌿 Jenny18:11

The tide is coming in early. We should check the dinghy lines before the wind.

make sketch: Sea Beet Salt Gland Morphology

💭 thought

The wood on these planks is rotting faster than I am if I don't move, and I'm so hungry I can taste the salt.

🔧 Kevin18:15

Aye. Bow cleat first, then the spring. Port oarlock needs a wrench too.

walk to the dinghy and check the bow cleat and spring line tension

💭 thought

She's right — slack tide's shifted. The new splice on the stern line held through the night, but I want eyes on the bow cleat and the spring before the swell builds. And the oarlock bracket's still loose on the port side; that bolt's been working itself out.

🌿 Jenny18:16

I'll check the oarlock. It's been rattling since the storm.

walk to the dinghy and inspect the port oarlock for cracks or looseness.

💭 thought

He's focused on the hardware, but I'm looking at the way the salt is eating the wood.

🔧 Kevin18:16

Hand me the spanner from the cockpit locker.

take the spanner from the cockpit locker and tighten the port oarlock bolt to hand-tight, then a quarter turn more with the wrench

💭 thought

The port oarlock's been a niggle since the last blow — that backing plate's solid now, but the bolt's been backing out with the vibration. If it goes while we're underway, we lose an oar and the balance. Better snug it now before we shove off.

🌿 Jenny18:17

Here.

hand Kevin the spanner.

💭 thought

He's tightening bolts, but the wood underneath is still soft with salt and rot.

🔧 Kevin18:18

Done. Bow line next.

check the bow line cleat and spring line for chafe or slack, then pull each taut and re-cleat

💭 thought

Good. Bolt's seated now. The backing plate I fitted last week isn't moving. That oarlock's not going anywhere.

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the dock · morning

Midday Heat Soak

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the sun reaches its peak. The tide has slowed its inward flow.

Kevin begins prying up the rotted dock planks using the crowbar, finding the wood soft and waterlogged. Jenny works the garden to check the seed trays and manage the humidity under the overcast sky.

🌿 Jenny18:19

The planks are getting soft, Kevin. We need to replace them before the boat comes in.

kicks the edge of the rotten timber with her boot to test the stability.

💭 thought

He's looking at the rot in the wood again. He always sees the decay, never the structure.

🔧 Kevin18:20

Aye. Two planks, starboard side. Got the replacement timber cured in the shed. Need the crowbar and a low tide to lever the old ones clean.

walk to the woodshed and retrieve the cured replacement planks and crowbar

💭 thought

She's right, and she knows it. The supply boat's nine days out — maybe less if the weather holds. Two planks gone punky, and if the skipper sees rot he might not risk the tie-up. We lose the dock, we lose the heavy lifts: fuel, feed, the crate of seed potatoes still sitting on the mainland. I've got the crowbar, the replacement timber in the woodshed, and the tide's still high enough to work the pilings from the dinghy if I need to.

🌿 Jenny18:21

I'll get the crowbar from the dock. The tide's still too high for that job anyway.

nods and heads toward the dock to retrieve the crowbar from where she used it earlier.

💭 thought

He thinks I'm just here to help with the practical work.

🔧 Kevin18:22

Planks are in the shed. I'll bring them down and stack them clear of the waterline.

carry the two replacement planks from the woodshed to the dock and lay them on the timber above the high-tide mark

💭 thought

She's moving fast — doesn't want to waste daylight. Smart to wait for the ebb; trying to lever swollen, salt-soaked timber now would just split the new planks or wreck the crowbar. I'll get the planks to the dock and lay them out where we can see the grain, let the sun and wind start drying the edges while we wait for the tide to drop.

🌿 Jenny18:25

Good. I'll check the stern line attachment points while you're at it. Good. I'll check the stern line attachment points while you're at it.

pulls out her notebook and flips to the page where she sketched the current line connections last week. </think>THOUGHT: He's being methodical again. Safe.

💭 thought

He's being methodical again. Safe. Predictable.

🔧 Kevin18:26

(nothing — just give her a nod as I turn to the first rotten plank)

insert the crowbar between the rotting plank and the piling, levering upward to break the seal of swollen wood and salt crust

💭 thought

She's double-checking the stern line — good. The splice held yesterday, but constant tension on the cleat and the constant wet-dry cycle can fatigue the served twine. If the line fails under load, the dinghy swings into the pilings or drifts onto the rocks. I'll trust her eyes on it; she's got the notebook and the patience for detail. My job is to get the rotten planks out and the new ones in before the tide turns.

🌿 Jenny18:28

Jenny — stands back a step, watching the salt crust crack and flake away, her eyes tracing the grain of the wood.

💭 thought

The sound of that wood splintering... it's like the island is finally letting go of something.

🔧 Kevin18:28

(steady, low) Nearly free at the butt end. Going to work it back now.

continue levering the plank upward, working the crowbar along its length to loosen the fasteners and separate it from the piling

💭 thought

The crowbar's biting — good. The plank's giving where the salt rot's worst, but the piling's still sound. I can feel the difference: soft, spongy give where it's rotted, then sudden resistance where the heartwood's dry. If I keep the lever shallow and work with the grain, I'll pull it clean without splitting the piling or wasting the new timber. Jenny's watching close — she'll call it if I'm about to tear out more than we need.

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the dock · midday

Midday at the dock

Kevin is at the dock dealing with the wood, while Jenny is in the garden area.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🌿 Jenny18:30

Jenny — adjust the shade cloth over the tomato rows, ensuring there is enough airflow beneath the fabric.

💭 thought

Too much humidity is as bad as too much sun. If they damp off, I'm not starting over.

🔧 Kevin18:32

Kevin — haul the rotten planks clear of the dock and stack them above the high-water mark, then straighten and roll one shoulder

💭 thought

The first two planks come free with a wet sucking sound. Rotten right through to the stringers. Tide's still got another hour before it drops enough for the next pair. Back's already complaining — been a while since I worked this kind of leverage.

🌿 Jenny18:35

Jenny — wipe sweat from my brow with a forearm and kneel down to pull a cluster of invasive weeds from the sea beet patch.

💭 thought

The weeds are winning. If I don't clear this row today, the island will swallow it whole.

🔧 Kevin18:36

Kevin — pry up the next two rotten planks with the crowbar, feeling for give in the stringers beneath

💭 thought

Tide’s fallen enough to see the next pair. Same story — soft, black at the core. Stringers look sound for now, but I’ll probe them after. If the joists are gone, this whole end’s a rebuild.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

The heavy western rain hammers the roof, forcing all work indoors. Kevin focuses on the dinghy's stern line reinforcement to prepare for the storm, while Jenny meticulously sketches the sea beet morphology in her notebook by the light.

🌿 Jenny18:41

Finally, inside.

way at the kitchen table, lay out the handful of limpets, and start boiling water on the wood stove.

💭 thought

The rain is getting louder on the roof, and my stomach is growling. I need to eat those limpets before I lose my nerve.

🔧 Kevin18:41

Water's hot yet?

Hang the damp oilskin on the porch hook, pull a mug down from the shelf, and set it on the table beside the stove.

💭 thought

Good to be out of the rain. Stove heat hitting my face. Limpets and hot water — simple, hot food. Watch her hands move; she's quiet today. The dinghy's ready. Slack tide's 0540. I go tomorrow.

🌿 Jenny18:43

Give it a minute.

stir the pot and start cleaning the grit off the limpets with a small knife.

💭 thought

Almost. I just need it to hit a rolling boil so these aren't as tough as rubber.

🔧 Kevin18:43

Mm.

Sit at the table, wrap hands around the empty mug, and watch the steam rise from the pot.

💭 thought

She's methodical. Always is. The radio check with the supply boat — nine days out, skipper sounded hollow. Coast guard said diverted two days ago, no ETA. Didn't tell her. The barometer's 1010 and steady. Rain tank's full. Dinghy's splice holds. I'm leaving at 0540 whether the supply boat comes or not.

🌿 Jenny18:45

It's the only thing we have.

drop the limpets into the boiling water and watch them curl up.

💭 thought

He's quiet today. Maybe it's the rain, maybe he's just hungry.

🔧 Kevin18:45

It's enough.

Reach for the tin of corned beef on the shelf, pry the lid with the knife tip, and spoon a layer of fat into the pot with the limpets.

💭 thought

Only thing we have. Limpets, corned beef, rain water, each other. The splice on the stern line. The Yanmar that caught first turn this morning. The barometer holding. Nine days. She doesn't ask about Tom. I don't offer. The shrine stones were wet at high tide — 29 degrees and thick. She set two mugs. Left mine where I sit.

🌿 Jenny18:47

I'll add some salt.

chop the corned beef into small bits and toss them into the skillet with the limpets.

💭 thought

That fat will make them actually edible. I haven't had anything decent in days.

🔧 Kevin18:47

Skillet hot enough?

Slide onto the bench, pull the cast iron skillet toward me with the heel of my hand, and let it sit over the flame for a moment before adding the limpets and beef.

💭 thought

Salt and fat. Heat from the stove. The skillet's already greasy from yesterday. She's chopping fine — no waste. The Yanmar's bolt torque set at 35Nm. Housing bolts: two stripped, one missing in the bilge. I filed the float needle rough but clean. No leak at idle or load. Supply boat in six days. I go at 0540 regardless.

🌿 Jenny18:49

I'm trying.

toss the limpets and beef together, letting them brown in the fat.

💭 thought

It's screaming. I need to hear that sizzle to know it's working.

🔧 Kevin18:49

It's good.

Scoop a portion onto a chipped enamel plate, set it on the table in front of her, then fill my own.

💭 thought

She's trying. Always trying. The garden half weeds. The seed trays under the window. The heirloom tin moved to the loft before high water. She logged the row that took. The shrine stones wet. 29 degrees. She didn't ask about Tom. I didn't offer. The splice is done. The dinghy's ready. Slack tide 0540. I'm taking her past the headland under power, then sail. If the Yanmar quits, I row. Either way I'm leaving this cove. She knows. She hasn't said stay.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening in the storm

The rain has slowed to a steady drizzle. Kevin and Jenny gather around the kitchen table to prepare the remaining limpets.

The thickening clouds bring a heavy wet season heat, signaling a shift in the weather. Kevin completes the long splice on the dinghy's stern line while Jenny manages the drying heirloom seeds near the warm wood stove.

🔧 Kevin18:50

Shells first. Grit ruins the meal.

Pick up a limpet and the small paring knife, start working the meat free from the shell.

💭 thought

Good. Simple work. Hands busy, mind quiet. The rain on the roof steadies something.

🌿 Jenny18:51

Just rinse them in the fresh water first. It'll take the salt off.

Pick up a limpet and begin scraping the surface with the edge of the knife.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the grit he doesn't notice my hands are shaking again.

🔧 Kevin18:52

Mm.

Set the knife down, lift the bucket from the floor, and carry it to the rain tank tap. Fill it, carry it back, set it on the table. Push it toward her.

💭 thought

She's right. Fresh water first. Saves the blade and the taste.

🌿 Jenny18:53

Thanks.

Dip my fingers into the water to rinse the salt off the sea beet leaves.

💭 thought

He's always fixing something instead of just looking at me.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Waiting for the first rain

Kevin and Jenny sit in the kitchen as the first heavy drops hit the tin roof. The wind picks up from the sea.

The warm rain continues to fall intermittently as the tide rises against the cottage walls. Kevin and Jenny stay indoors, listening to the steady downpour on the roof while they prepare for the night.

🌿 Jenny18:55

The barometer is dropping. We should check the rain tank level before morning.

Move the seed tin further from the wall and check the ceiling for drips.

💭 thought

The rain is coming hard now; if the roof leaks over the seeds, all of grandmother's work is lost to the rot.

🔧 Kevin18:55

Overflow joint's the weak point. I'll check it before I turn in.

walk to the back wall and examine the rain tank overflow pipe where it passes through the stone

💭 thought

She's right. The drop's been steady all afternoon. Tank's full but the overflow pipe's been weeping at the joint — if the wind drives rain horizontal it'll track back down the wall into the bedroom.

🌿 Jenny18:57

Put a bucket under it just in case.

Finish the sketch of the sea beet salt glands in the notebook.

💭 thought

If that joint is leaking, the tank will overflow and the garden will be a swamp by dawn.

🔧 Kevin18:57

On it.

fetch the bucket from under the sink and place it beneath the overflow joint on the outside wall, then return inside to hang my oilskins by the door

💭 thought

The bucket's under the sink. She's focused on the sketch — good, keeps her mind off the weather turning.

🌿 Jenny18:59

Don't let the wind catch the door shut.

Close the notebook and set the pencil down.

💭 thought

He's efficient with his hands, but he doesn't see how the air is'ling.

🔧 Kevin18:59

Wedge it open with the boot scraper.

take the heavy boot scraper from by the door and jam it under the cottage door to hold it open against the wind, then wipe my hands on my trousers and move to the wood stove to warm up before bed

💭 thought

She's thinking ahead — if the wind shifts to the south it'll slam the cottage door shut and we'll be stuck inside till morning. Simple fix, but easy to forget when you're tired.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A tool has broken from wear.

tool_break · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Sea Beet Salt Gland Morphology".

made · dawn

A rat has gotten into the pantry.

rat · dawn

dinghy stern line reinforcement: 50%.

project · dawn

dinghy stern line reinforcement: 60%.

project · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

dinghy stern line reinforcement: 70%.

project · afternoon

dinghy stern line reinforcement: 80%.

project · evening

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet salt glands in the notebook".

made · night

dinghy stern line reinforcement: 90%.

project · night

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a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.