Day 492

I’ll get the shims in before it lifts. Hold the line steady.

wedge cedar shims into the north piling mortise while the ring's unloaded, then drive them home with the rising water seating the ring.

Got it. I’ve got the shims seated. Keep pulling—I’ll watch the pile.

watch the north piling for any shift or groaning while Jenny stabilizes the dinghy with the way line.

Gap’s closed for now. But we need a sister on that piling—greenheart, through-bolts, before the next tide. I’ll get it ready after slack.

scan the gap between the north piling and the mooring ring for movement or water seepage while Jenny maintains tension on the way line.

Slack’s in two hours. I’ll have the sister ready. You get off that line before it takes you down.

check the greenheart offcuts on the dock for straightness and length, then measure the north piling’s circumference for bolt placement.

I see it. Easy on the line—I’ll take the hold now. Breathe.

take the way line from Jenny, brace my feet against the jetty, and pull steady to stabilize the dinghy while she rests her ankle.

Got it. Ease off slow — let the warp take it.

step to the bow line, take the strain onto my shoulders, and hold the dinghy steady against the piling so she can shift weight off the bad leg

Pilings tired. We sister at slack. For now, just breathe — I've got the line.

keep tension on the bow warp with both hands, feet braced on the dock, watching the north piling for any give or splash under the surge

I'm good. Keep watching the shims — if they shift, call it.

scan the mortise where the shims meet the ring, feel the line in my grip, and adjust my stance to share the load with my legs, not my back

Aye. Next low tide I'll drive the greenheart sister. You stay off it.

hold the warp steady, eyes on the piling base where water meets rot, feeling for any sudden give in the timber

I’m going to fire up the Yanmar for a quick test. Be back in twenty.

walk to the dinghy, untie the bow line, climb aboard, and pull the starter cord.

Won’t be long. Just checking she’s still got her voice.

turn the key, let the Yanmar turn over twice, then ease the throttle to idle and listen for knock or shake.

She’s holding steady. Oil’s good. Temp’s climbing normal.

glance at the gauges, rest a hand on the warm casing to feel for vibration, then reach for the kill switch after a full minute of smooth running.

Engine’s clean. I’m coming in.

flip the kill switch, step off the dinghy, pull the bow line tight to the cleat, and walk up the porch steps into the cottage.

Boat's due in two days. Dock's solid but I'll check the ring wedges again at low tide tomorrow. You want to put a list together for the skipper?

walk to the porch and sit on the step, wiping grease from my hands with a rag

Doxycycline, bandages. Coffee. Fuel filters for the Yanmar. Another injector seat if they've got one. What about you — anything personal?

lean back against the porch post, watching her write

Seeds and twine. I'll add a roll of heavy line for the dinghy mooring. The chafe guard's holding but the warp's seen better days.

reach for the mug of cold tea on the step beside me and drink it down

Better line, later replacement. Got it.

stand up and stretch, rolling one shoulder

Tank's holding. Generator fuel down a touch. What else we need written down before light goes?

walk to the porch and pull the notebook from the shelf, flipping to a fresh page

Antibiotics, gauze, saline. Got it. Fuel for the generator too — burned near two litres today. Coffee. The jar's sealed but we're halfway through.

write the items in the notebook with the ballpoint pen, hand steady despite the tremor that's lived in it for years

Antiseptic soap. And check the seed tin — if it's going, better we know now.

lean over Jenny's shoulder, not touching, just to see the spread seeds under the fading light, squinting for any fuzz or dark spots

Looks clean. No mold I can see. We'll dry them slow overnight on the porch — out of dew, out of direct sun.

reach for the notebook again, not to write, just to feel its weight in my palm before setting it gently on the table beside the seed tin

I'll check the generator oil before bed. And the dock lines — tide's coming up.

walk to the generator on the porch, pull the dipstick, wipe it on a rag, check the level, then walk to the dock to eye the mooring ring and cedar shims in the last light

Broth's on the stove if you want it. Going to check the ring one more time before dark.

walk to the dock with the LED headlamp, test the mooring ring by hauling hard on the bow line, watch for any shift in the mortise or movement of the oak wedges under tension

Just leaning on it. Not hauling.

put weight on the bow line gradually, feet braced on the dock planking, watching the mooring ring mortise for any play — stop the moment the wedges bite or the wood groans