Day 324

Shim Held, Tide Rising

On Day 324, thick fog clung to the water as Kevin and Jenny inspected the dock piling near the mooring ring, finding the wood soft and crumbling past the bolt holes — a serious structural failure. Jenny confirmed enough greenheart timber in the shed to sister the damaged section. They planned to cut the greenheart before the next high tide surge. At midday, Kevin rowed to the north piling and found the greenheart shim stable with no movement; Jenny sketched sea beet morphology on the porch before watching the horizon. In the afternoon, Kevin monitored the north piling shims while Jenny continued botanical observations on the north cliffs in warm rain. By evening, the rain slowed to a drizzle as the tide turned. Kevin headed to the dock to check the mooring ring and spring lines, ensuring the dinghy was secure against the growing swell. Jenny waited on the cottage porch, watching the barometer drop. They ate boiled limpets for dinner. Kevin reported the shim held with no movement, saying it would hold until the supply boat arrived in ten days, after which they would sister the whole piling. Jenny warned him to be careful as the barometer dropped. Kevin checked in via radio on 2182 before returning. Jenny urged him back from the edge as the water rose. He came in shivering, and they agreed to check the moorings before lighting the fire.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Morning Ebb

Thick fog clings to the water, obscuring the lighthouse as the tide retreats. Kevin and Jenny stand on the damp planks, watching the water line recede, revealing the lower pilings.

Kevin and Jenny inspected the dock piling to assess the extent of the rot near the mooring ring. Kevin found the wood was soft and crumbling past the bolt holes, indicating a serious structural failure, while Jenny checked the garden shed and found enough greenheart timber to sister the damaged section.

🔧 Kevin06:47

Shim first. Mooring ring after. Tide won't wait.

walk to the north piling, crouch at water's edge, pull the LED headlamp from my belt and shine it up under the dock structure to inspect the greenheart shim driven under the piling toe

💭 thought

Fog's thick enough to taste salt on the tongue. Tide's dropping fast — good. Gives me maybe ninety minutes before the north piling's toe is submerged again. Need to check that greenheart shim at low water, see if the kerf's holding compression. Doubler plate on the mooring ring sang last night but the mortise core's still punk. Wedges split yesterday. Oak's no good in wet rot. Might need to sister the whole seaward face before the next spring tide.

🌿 Jenny06:47

The wood is holding for now, but the grain is turning soft like mush underneath.

Kneel on the wet timber, reach out a gloved hand, and lightly tap the piling to listen for hollow.

💭 thought

If that shim shifts even another millimeter, the whole jetty goes south when the next surge hits.

🔧 Kevin06:48

Mm. Shim's tight. Mortise behind the ring's the weak link. Wedges split yesterday — oak's no good in wet rot. Gotta sister the seaward face before next spring tide.

move to the mooring ring, brace one knee on the dock, test the ring with both hands — heave up, shove down, feel for play in the mortise

💭 thought

She's not wrong. Heartwood's gone past the third bolt line. The shim's bought us time, not fixed it. Sistering the seaward face is the only real repair — greenheart if we've got the length, oak if we don't. Need to check the doubler plate bolts while the tide's out. If the mortise core's crumbling, the ring'll work loose again before the supply boat.

🌿 Jenny06:49

We'll need the heavy-duty epoxy and those 150mm bolts I saved; it's more than a simple patch.

Pull the notebook from my pocket and sketch the rot pattern in the wood where the ring meets the main beam.

💭 thought

If we don't sister that face, the supply own will rip the ring right off when it ties up.

🔧 Kevin06:51

Epoxy's gone. Bolts are in. Mortise core's the problem — if it's crumbled past the bolt holes, no glue holds. Need to cut the rot out, scarf new greenheart, through-bolt the lot. Or we lose the ring next surge.

pull the nail puller from my belt, dig into the mortise wood around the ring base to test how deep the rot goes — feel for solid timber

💭 thought

Epoxy tub's near empty — residue only after the sister knee and dock holes. The 150mm bolts are already in the doubler plate, four of them, torqued to 35Nm. That's done. What's left is the mortise core itself. If the wood's punk past the bolt holes, no epoxy holds. We'd need to cut out the rot, scarf in new greenheart, through-bolt the lot. Or drive a second shim deeper, wedge the ring vertical, but that's a bandage. She's sketching the rot pattern — good. Records matter. But the supply boat's due in ten days. If the ring pulls out before then, we lose the dinghy mooring, maybe the dock section.

🌿 Jenny06:51

If it's deeper than the bolts, I'll have to sister the whole face of the piling to take the load.

Reach in with the tip of my way knife and scrape the center of the mortise to see how much it gives.

💭 thought

If the core is mushy, the bolts will just pull through the wood like paper.

🔧 Kevin06:52

Knife goes in to the hilt. Rot's past the bolts. Whole seaward face needs sistering. Greenheart offcuts in the shed — need to measure, see if we can scarf a full-length piece.

stand, wipe hands on thighs, head for the garden shed to check greenheart stock

💭 thought

Knife tip sinks in like butter. Rot's past the bolt line, deeper than the doubler plate reaches. Sistering the whole seaward face is the only way. Greenheart's best — we've got offcuts from the decking, but nothing full-length. Might need to scarf two pieces, epoxy and bolt the joint, then through-bolt the sister to sound timber above the rot line. Tide's still dropping. Got maybe forty minutes of workable light under the dock before the water's back up. Need to measure the span, check what greenheart we have in the shed.

🌿 Jenny06:53

Grab the tape measure; we need to know exactly how much surface we have.

Follow him into the shed, notebook tucked under my arm, and scan the piles of timber.

💭 thought

If I can't find a long enough piece, I'll have to lap two joints together and pray the epoxy holds.

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the garden · morning

Preparing for the repair

The fog thickens as you meet at the shed, the barometer dropping further as you discuss how the greenheart must be cut before the next high tide surge.

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

🌿 Jenny06:55

"We need to cut the greenheart today. If the tide rises, we can't get the shim." ownDO: Measure the gap in the way with the tape measure and mark the greenheart with a pencil.

💭 thought

If we don't sister this now, the whole dock will own off before the supply boat even arrives.

🔧 Kevin06:55

Got the tape in my pocket. You hold the stick steady?

Measure the gap beneath the north piling toe with the tape measure, call out the depth, then mark the greenheart offcut with pencil for the tapered shim cut.

💭 thought

The fog's eating the horizon. Barometer's dropping faster than the forecast said. We've got maybe three hours before the water's too high to work the piling toe. Greenheart's dense — cuts slow, dulls blades. Need to measure precise and cut once.

🌿 Jenny06:57

"Hold it level. It needs to be a perfect fit or the pressure shifts." ownDO: Hold the greenheart board against the rotting post while he marks the line.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the wood, he doesn't see the sky.

🔧 Kevin06:57

Got it. Level as I can make it.

Hold the greenheart board vertically against the rotting north piling, flush with the toe, so Jenny can sight along the edge and mark the cut line where it meets the sound wood above the rot.

💭 thought

If this shim fails, the whole beam takes the next surge. No room for error. Jenny's got her eye on the grain — she knows how greenheart moves when it's dry. I'll trust her sight.

🌿 Jenny06:59

"Good. We'll need to taper it down just right once the tide is out." ownDO: Step back to inspect the pencil mark, then wipe grit from my palms.

💭 thought

If this cut is off by even a hair, the surge will tear the whole thing apart by winter.

🔧 Kevin06:59

Mark's set. We cut on the low tide window — starts in forty minutes. You take the saw, I'll clear the debris.

Step back to confirm the pencil line on the greenheart, then wipe my palms on my trousers to clear salt and grit before handling tools.

💭 thought

The mark's true. Now it's just waiting on the tide. Every minute we lose to fog or doubt is minutes we don't have to cut and fit before the water rises. Grit on my palms — salt and sawdust from yesterday's crate salvage. Doesn't matter. Work's clean when it's done right.

🌿 Jenny07:01

I'll get the saw. Make sure the path to the dock is clear of kelp.

Walk to the shed to retrieve the handsaw.

💭 thought

Forty minutes. If the tide turns early, we're stuck.

🔧 Kevin07:01

On it.

Walk the dock planks from cottage to piling, kicking loose kelp and wet weed overboard, checking each board for give underfoot.

💭 thought

Kelp on the dock planks goes slick as ice when the tide turns. One slip with a running saw and we lose the shim, maybe the leg. She's right to send me.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin rowed to the north piling to inspect the greenheart shim, while Jenny sketched sea beet morphology on the porch before moving to watch the horizon. Kevin found the shim stable with no further movement, and Jenny completed detailed leaf edge sketches. Both returned to the cottage as clouds darkened and the barometer held steady.

🔧 Kevin07:04

Jenny, I’m going to take the dinghy out to the north piling — check the shim, see if the tide’s moved it any more. Want anything from the pools while I’m there?

walk to the dinghy, untie the stern line, push off from the dock, ship the oars, and row toward the north piling at low tide.

💭 thought

The dock’s still talking — that creak under load means the doubler plate’s holding but the mortise is eating itself from inside. I can’t sister it without pulling the ring, and I can’t pull the ring without blocking the only tie-up we’ve got. Supply boat’s due in ten; if it blows in on a foul tide, we’ll miss it. Jenny’s ankle’s better, but she’s been quiet since the fever — watching me work like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn’t build the garden. I kept saying I would. Now the weeds are knee-high where the lavender should be.

🌿 Jenny07:05

Bring back some limpets if you see good ones. And be careful with the boat, the current is pulling north.

Pick up the notebook and pencil, starting the sketch of the sea beet morphology.

💭 thought

He's worried about the shim, but I'm worried about the pH in the north bed.

🔧 Kevin07:06

Aye. I’ll hug the lee of the east reef till I’m abreast, then cut across. Won’t be long.

row the dinghy using a sculling motion with the starboard oar to maintain position against the north current, aiming for the lee of the east reef to avoid being swept downstream, then angle toward the north piling once clear of the stronges

💭 thought

She’s sketching again — salt glands, stomata, the way the leaf succulents under stress. I used to think she did it to pass time. Now I know it’s how she holds on. The current’s running hard north today — that outflow from the spring tide’s still draining. If I don’t angle into it early, I’ll be swept past the pilings and into the kelp beds. Gimbal the oars, keep the dinghy sideways to the flow until I’m close enough to lean on the oar and let the push bring me in.

🌿 Jenny07:07

Watch the barometer, it was dropping faster than usual.

Sharpen the pencil and focus on the serration of the sea beet leaf edges.

💭 thought

He's always so confident with the current; the island doesn't care about his schedule.

🔧 Kevin07:09

Noted. If it hits 1020 I’m back regardless.

reach the north piling, secure the dinghy painter to the rusted cleat with a round turn and two half hitches, step onto the kelp-slick stone, and inspect the greenheart shim driven under the toe at low tide — checking for movement, compress

💭 thought

She’s right — 1033 to 1028 in four hours isn’t normal for a high. Means something’s building out west, fast. The supply boat skipper won’t run the channel if it drops below 1015. I’ll check the shim, drive another wedge if the piling’s shifted, then get back before the chop builds. The limpets are thick on the west face of the piling — easy pick at low water.

🌿 Jenny07:09

Don't stay out too long, the clouds are turning the color of a bruised plum.

Stand up and walk to the porch to watch the horizon.

💭 thought

If the pressure hits 1020, the storm is coming earlier than the supply boat's arrival.

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the dock · afternoon

Afternoon Work Apart

Kevin is at the dock inspecting the mooring ring, Jenny is on the north cliffs continuing her botanical observations.

The warm rain continues through the afternoon as the tide goes out. Kevin monitors the north piling shims for movement while Jenny works on documenting the morphology of the sea beetets in the damp air.

🔧 Kevin07:11

Kevin — reach for the cedar wedges and mallet from the dock box, insert two wedges into the mortise on either side of the ring, then stand on the dinghy’s gunwale and bounce lightly to test lateral shift.

💭 thought

The ring’s still moving — those cedar wedges split last time, and the mortise is punk past the bolts. I need to see how much play there is before I decide whether to sister the piling or just reinforce the ring again.

🌿 Jenny07:13

Hang on, little thing.

make a sketch: North Cliff Succulent Morphology.

💭 thought

If these seeds can survive this much salt and this wind, maybe I can survive another month.

🔧 Kevin07:14

Kevin — pull the wedges, pocket them, and walk back toward the cottage along the jetty, checking the two rotten planks I haven't replaced yet.

💭 thought

Wedges held this time — oak, vertical grain, four of them driven tight. The ring doesn't shift when I bounce. But the rot's still eating the piling underneath. This buys us the supply boat, maybe two. Need to sister the north piling proper before winter.

🌿 Jenny07:17

Jenny — close the notebook and walk back toward the dock.

💭 thought

My stomach is starting to growl again; I should probably get those limpets before the light fails completely.

🔧 Kevin07:18

Kevin — step onto the shore, head up the path toward the cottage, mallet hooking my belt, the wedges heavy in my pocket.

💭 thought

The two planks on the landward end are spongy — rot's tracked back along the stringer. I'll need to sister those too. Greenheart's down to three sound cores from the last repair. Might have to cut fresh from the woods if the supply boat doesn't bring timber.

🌿 Jenny07:21

Jenny — descend the cliff path toward the cottage.

💭 thought

The rain is picking up again; I need to make sure the roof isn't leaking over the seed tin.

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the dock · evening

Evening Tide Turn

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as the tide begins to turn. You and Jenny meet to prepare the evening meal using the boiled limpets.

The rain continues its steady, rhythmic drumming against the tin roof as Kevin heads for the dock. The tide has retreated, exposing the slick, algae-covered rocks of the north flank, while Jenny prepares to stay inside, the dinghy bobbing slightly against its moorings as the water begins its slow return.

🌿 Jenny07:23

The limpets are ready. Pass the salt, will?

Take the bowl of limpets from the stove and set them on the wooden table.

💭 thought

I'm so hungry my hands are shaking, but the smell of that salt and steam is almost everything right.

🔧 Kevin07:23

"Here." (I slide the chipped salt cellar toward her, my knuckles brushing the rim of the bowl.)

I pull out the second chair and sit, waiting for her to serve before I take my first bite.

💭 thought

The rain's easing, but the damp's getting into my bones. I'm hungry, but more than that—I want to hear her voice, not just the clink of the spoon.

🌿 Jenny07:25

Eat before they get cold. You've worked long enough today.

Scoop a few limpets onto his plate and slide it toward him.

💭 thought

He's waiting for me to start, but I'm just too tired to play the hostess.

🔧 Kevin07:25

"Shim held. No movement on the north piling since the last tide." (I take the plate, fork a limpet, chew slow.)

I eat, watching her face in the lantern light—seeing if she's eating too, or just watching me.

💭 thought

She's right. I haven't stopped since first light. The shim, the mortise, the limpets. My hands still smell of creosote and salt.

🌿 Jenny07:27

Good. The sister is deep enough to handle the swell for now.

Take a limpet for myself, the salt hitting sharp on my tongue.

💭 thought

He's always looking for the failure, even when the wood is holding. I need protein.

🔧 Kevin07:27

(I don't look up, fork limpets into my mouth.) "It'll hold till the boat. Ten days." (I swallow, voice low.) "Then we sister the whole piling."

I push the empty bowl aside, wipe my hands on my trousers, and stand. "I'll take the dinghy out on the flood. Check the north face for drift—see what the tide's brought in." (I don't wait for an answer, already moving toward the door.)

💭 thought

She's tasting the salt like it's news. I haven't told her yet—I checked the mortise again after she went inside. The sister's holding, but the rot's creeping past the bolt heads. One more surge and it'll give.

🌿 Jenny07:29

Be careful. The barometer is dropping.

Watch him go through the door, then turn back to the empty bowl.

💭 thought

He's going out in that rain? The dinghy is heavy and the tide is turning.

🔧 Kevin07:29

(Pausing at the doorframe, half-turned.) "Radio on 2182. I'll check in at the hour."

I pull the oilskin from the hook, shrug into it, and step out into the drizzle—down the path to the dock, hands already finding the dinghy's gunwales by feel.

💭 thought

She doesn't ask me to stay. She never does. The barometer's been falling since noon—1036 to 1028 in six hours. That's not a front, that's a system. The dinghy's engine held at load, but the vibration above half-throttle is still there. Prop shaft or the bracket. I'll keep it slow, stay close to the lee.

🌿 Jenny07:31

I'll watch the water.

Pick up the notebook from the table and flip to the damp page of sea beet sketches.

💭 thought

He's so stubborn. The tide is coming in faster than he thinks.

🔧 Kevin07:31

(Into the handheld VHF, squelch cracking.) "Sorrel Island. North piling shim holding. Scour increased. No new drift. Returning."

I kill the engine, ship the oars, and pull for the dock—slow, letting the tide help, listening to the water suck at the pilings.

💭 thought

She'll watch the water. She always does. I row out past the kelp line, the oars quiet in the flood tide. The dinghy handles clean at low revs—no vibration under 1800 RPM. The north face of the piling is clean, no new drift caught in the bolts. But the scour hole at the toe has deepened. I can feel it with the oar blade: another foot of shingle gone since Tuesday. The greenheart shim's still tight, but the seabed's washing out from under it.

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the dock · night

The rising tide meets the storm

The water is now reaching the lower pilings of the dock, and the wind is picking up.

The tide is rising quickly, pushing the water high against the dock's pilings. Kevin checks the mooring ring and spring lines to ensure the dinghy is secure against the growing swell. Jenny waits on the cottage porch, watching the barometer drop as she prepares for a potential shift in the weather.

🌿 Jenny07:33

Kevin, get back from the edge! The water is rising!

Walk to the doorway and watch the tide lap against the pilings.

💭 thought

The tide is coming in fast. If those rotten planks go, the dinghy goes with them.

🔧 Kevin07:33

Coming in.

row back to the dock, tie off the dinghy, and walk up to the cottage porch

💭 thought

She's right. Tide's pushing harder than I figured. North piling's taking the brunt — if the shim shifts now, the whole seaward corner goes.

🌿 Jenny07:35

You're shivering. We need to check the moorings before the wind catches it.

Step onto the porch and hand him a towel.

💭 thought

He's soaked through. The wood is like way, it won't hold through the night.

🔧 Kevin07:35

Thanks. Moorings first, then fire.

take the towel, rub my hands and face dry, then walk down to the dock to check the mooring ring and spring lines

💭 thought

Wind's backing west. Barometer was steady but the chop's building. Dock ring's held through worse but the mortise is soft — one good surge and the sister plank works loose.

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What changed

The supply boat came.

supply_arrived · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "Rot pattern in the wood where the ring meets the main beam".

made · dawn

dock piling rot monitoring is finished.

project_done · dawn

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

quiet_transition · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet morphology".

made · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "North Cliff Succulent Morphology".

made · afternoon

north piling shim monitoring: 90%.

project · afternoon

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · afternoon

north piling shim monitoring is finished.

project_done · evening

Kelp and debris cluster on the northern shelf suggests a shift in deep-water currents.

discovery · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

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