Day 313

Tide’s low enough to start. I’ll auger the hole first—keep an eye on the pressure. If it drops fast, we stop and secure the dinghy.

Walk to the tool rack, grab the soil auger and maul, carry them to the south piling. Kneel at the waterline, place the auger tip where the new greenheart will go, and begin turning it clockwise to bore the hole.

Start the transect. I'll call if the alignment shifts. Seacocks can wait till after the piling—supply boat's tomorrow.

Keep turning the auger, driving it deeper into the piling base, clearing the hole for the new greenheart. Sweat drips onto the wood. The bite feels clean—no hidden rot this far down.

Keep the samples dry. I'll shout if the barometer drops.

Lean into the auger, turning it with both hands, feeling the torque as it cuts through the wet silt. Wood chips and clay spiral up the shaft. Hole's almost deep enough—just need to break through the hardpan at the bottom.

Hole's ready. Grab the greenheart from the skiff when you're done there.

Pull the auger free, shake the muck off the flights. Set it aside. Walk to the skiff, haul the greenheart plank onto the dock—sixty kilos of salt-cured ironwood. Position it over the hole, align the bolt holes with the pilot marks.

Jenny, I’m starting on the piling now. Low tide’s our window.

walk to the shed, grab the auger, maul, and greenheart plank, then head to the south piling at the dock.

Back before noon. Radio on channel 16 if anything changes.

set the auger bit against the piling's base, brace my shoulder, and start turning.

(grunting) This piling’s gone further than we thought.

keep turning the auger, clearing the hole, then reach for the maul and the greenheart brace.

(to myself) Come on, hold.

position the greenheart plank in the augered hole, grip the maul, and swing—first strike to seat it.

Kevin — walk to the end of the dock, inspect the two rotten planks marked for replacement, test the greenheart brace stock against the south piling for length.

Kevin — fetch the ship's auger and brace from the workshop, carry them to the dock, kneel on the planking and start the 25mm hole through the greenheart brace stock.

Kevin — hold the brace stock against the south piling at 45 degrees, scribe the cut line on the piling where the top of the brace will sit, then auger the pilot hole into the piling following that line.

Brace won’t hold. Hole’s not deep enough. We gotta replace the planks first—south side’s worst. I’ll rip out the rotten ones, you pass me the sound cores from the shed. We’ll sister new two-by-fours under the joists, then lay and spike. Low tide’s in two hours—enough time if we move.

Walk to the shed, grab the three salvaged dock planks and a crowbar, return to the dock, and begin prying up the two rotten planks at the south end of the jetty.

Got it. Gentle on the first one—see if the nails bite or crumble.

Wedge the crowbar under the nearest rotten plank, apply slow pressure, and lift it free in one piece if the nails hold, letting it drop onto the dinghy deck to clear the work face.

Next one coming up.

Pry the second rotten plank free, toss it aside, then take the straightest salvaged board from Jenny and position it against the exposed joist, aligning the bolt holes.

Two bolts per end, staggered. I'll follow with the carriage bolts and washers.

Hold the sister board firm against the joist while Jenny drills, then feed 150mm stainless carriage bolts through each hole as she finishes, adding washers and threading nyloc nuts finger-tight.

On it.

Snug each nyloc nut with the heavy wrench, checking the sister board sits flat against the joist with no rock, then signal for the first replacement deck plank.

Together.

Lift the opposite end of the deck plank, settle it onto the sister boards flush with the existing deck line, then hold it steady while Jenny drives the first ring-shank spike through the pre-drilled hole at the end.

Dock's holding. South section's solid now. How's the garden?

walk into the kitchen, set the heavy wrench on the table, pull out a chair and sit down heavily

Yeah. It's brutal. We'll rig a second layer of cloth tonight — double it over the tomatoes and basil. Give 'em a break till first light.

push the rusted seed tin gently toward the center of the counter with two fingers, then stand and walk to the porch door to grab the spare roll of shade cloth from the hook by the frame

We hit the worst spots with crushed lime tonight. Just a handful per hill — raise the pH where it counts. No point fighting the heat if the soil's eating the roots.

return to the kitchen with the shade cloth roll tucked under one arm, set it on the counter beside the tin, then open the cupboard and pull out the small sack of crushed lime we keep for the beds

Yeah, check it. I'll measure out what we need — two trowels full for the pepper strip, one for the basil. We'll do it after supper, when the sun's off the beds.

take the sack of lime, unscrew the top, and pour a small pile onto a clean piece of newspaper on the counter, then scoop two trowels' worth into a tin cup and set it aside, leaving the rest for later

I'll get it. You sit — your ankle's had enough today.

stand up, take the kettle from her hands before she can fill it, turn on the tap, and fill it to just below the spout, then set it on the wood stove to heat

Yeah. You're fine. I'll make the mackerel and sea beet. Ten minutes.

pull two tins of mackerel from the shelf, open them with the can opener, dump the contents into the cast iron skillet on the stove, then toss in the prepared sea beet leaves and stir with the wooden spoon

Hand me the maul. I'll drive it true this time.

walk to the south piling, pick up the maul, align the greenheart brace, and strike it firmly into the augured hole with three controlled blows, seating it deep and vertical.

Thanks. I'll tap it first—seat it gentle.

lift the maul just above the brace, let it fall slowly to tap the top of the greenheart, checking for shift or crack, then repeat twice more, feeling for solid seating before driving it home.

Yeah. I'll wait.

stand still beside the piling, one hand lightly on the brace to feel for vibration, the other resting on the maul handle, watching the tide edge creep in as the light fades.