Day 701

Three Days to the Boat

Dawn broke clear and 26°C. The tide was receding, exposing slick rocks beneath the south pilings. Jenny sat on a weathered plank, ankle propped on a crate, shivering despite the heat, her leg throbbing and feverish. Kevin watched the Yanmar hum under load, vibration traveling through dockboards into the morning air thick with salt and hot diesel exhaust. The boat was due in three days. "The boat is in three days, Kevin. Don't forget the radio check," Jenny said. "Won't forget. Aerial insulator's holding. Coax continuity checked yesterday," Kevin replied. As the tide dropped further, revealing jagged reef, Kevin inspected dock planks for structural integrity while Jenny documented rot spread. By midday the tide turned, pushing back against pilings. Kevin checked recent repairs; Jenny monitored her infection. "Tide's pushing. South stringer goes under in fifteen," Kevin said. "You take the radio log, the medevac forms, and the spare spark plugs up to the cottage. I'll set the sister plank and drive the bolts before the water covers the mortise."

"Don't get the forms wet again. The barometer is still dropping."

"Forms go in the dry bag. Radio check at 1800 if the aerial holds."

Afternoon brought oppressive heat and thickening sky. Evening brought southeast wind howling, driving salt spray against windows. The barometer fell steadily. Kevin tested the Yanmar under load. Jenny inspected heirloom seed tins for mold. "Is the boat actually on schedule? Or are they drifting again?" Jenny asked over corned beef broth. "Three days at high tide. Two-hour window. Captain acknowledged on 2182. But the barometer's 1006 and falling — front's pushing southwest. They'll try the crossing but they won't risk the boat."

"If they don't show up, I'm out of antibiotics by Friday."

"The cache is buried at the spring. Fourteen of each. Sealed in oilcloth. Enough to finish the course twice over."

Night deepened. Rain leaked through the shutter. "Kevin! The shutter is leaking again. Move the seeds now."

"On it."

"Check the water tank levels. I need to know exactly where we stand."

"Tank's full. Four hundred litres. Overflow's been running since yesterday — west wall leak's feeding it."

"We're set on water. I need to check the radio before the wind gets worse."

"Aerial's down. Insulator shattered. New coax in the crate, spare insulator filed and ready. Need calm hands and the

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Pre-arrival Load Test

Jenny sits on a weathered plank, her ankle propped up on a crate while Kevin watches the Yanmar engine. The engine hums under load, vibrating through the dockboards into the morning heat. The air smells of salt and hot diesel exhaust.

Dawn breaks on a clear, 26°C morning. The tide is receding, exposing the slick rocks beneath the south pilings. Jenny sits on the dock, shivering despite the heat, clutching her throbbing, feverish ankle while Kevin prepares the gear for the supply boat's arrival in three days.

🌿 Jenny07:53

The boat is in three days, Kevin. Don't forget the radio check.

Wipes sweat from her brow with a sleeve and opens her notebook to the sketch of the north ridge.

💭 thought

way own is throbbing in time with that engine, and he's looking at the bolts instead of the water levels I mentioned.

🔧 Kevin07:54

Won't forget. Aerial insulator's holding. Coax continuity checked yesterday.

Wipe hands on a rag, walk to the radio shack, and run a quick transmit check on 2182 kHz.

💭 thought

She's right. Three days. High tide window. Need the radio solid before they call in.

🌿 Jenny07:55

Jenny — winces as she shifts her weight off her ankle, reaching for the seed tin in her bag.

💭 thought

He thinks the radio is the only thing that needs checking while the tank is nearly dry and my leg is killing me.stunSAY: Just make sure the signal is clear. I need to get to the ridge before the heat gets worse.

🔧 Kevin07:57

Got your seeds? The ridge sketch looks good, just make sure we keep the trail clear.

Slide a fresh piece of paper into the seed tin, add a quick note: “North Ridge – 3.2 m, salt glands dense. Bring extra. – K.”

💭 thought

She’s still holding the seed tin like a lifeline.

🌿 Jenny07:57

The seeds are safe. I'm going to find that spot today.

Clutches the tin tightly, feeling the cold metal against her hot palm, and starts to stand up.

💭 thought

way's so worried about the trail while I'm worried about the soil actually holding life for once.

🔧 Kevin07:58

Take the cane. And the radio. Check in at the spring.

Walk over, offer the driftwood cane, and set the handheld VHF on the crate beside her.

💭 thought

She's pushing it. Ankle's not ready for the ridge climb. But she'll go anyway if I don't say something.

🌿 Jenny07:59

I'll check in. If I can make the climb.

Takes the cane, leaning heavily on it as she grips the radio, and winces at the sharp pain in her ankle.

💭 thought

He's always giving orders like he's the one who has to live with the fever.

🔧 Kevin08:01

Path's clear to the spring. Past that, watch the loose shale on the north face. Radio check every hour.

Watch her start up the garden path, then turn back to the Yanmar and check the oil pressure gauge.

💭 thought

She's going. Can't stop her. Best I can do is make sure the path's clear and the radio works.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · morning

Morning preparations for the boat

The tide continues to drop, revealing more of the jagged reef as the morning heat begins to rise.

The tide has receded, exposing the lower sections of the dock pilings for inspection. Kevin examines the structural integrity of the wood planks while Jenny monitors the spread of rot and documents the damage for the supply boat's arrival.

🌿 Jenny08:02

The tide is going out too fast, Kevin. Check the lines.

Rub the base of my ankle and wince as the movement shifts the pressure.

💭 thought

If the water drops any further, the dinghy will be aground on those rotting planks and I don't have the strength to push it.

🔧 Kevin08:04

On it.

walk to the dinghy, crouch at the bow cleat and inspect the bow line lead through the chock, then move aft to check both stern springs for chafe and tension

💭 thought

She's right — the ebb's running harder than the tables said. If the bow line's caught on the chock it'll snap the cleat before the dinghy can rise. I'll check the springs first, then the bow.

🌿 Jenny08:07

Make sure the springs aren't pulling too hard; the wood is getting soft.

Pull out my sketchbook and start a shaky drawing of the rot patterns on the third plank.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the hardware while the dock is literally dissolving under our feet.

🔧 Kevin08:07

Checking the lead angles now. If the springs are straight off the cleats they're lifting, not holding.

crouch at the starboard stern cleat, feel the spring tension with one hand while sighting the lead angle to the mooring ring, then check the port spring the same way

💭 thought

She's seen the stringers. Knows the rot's eaten past the planks into the sisters. The springs are the only thing holding the dock together until I can sister the starboard stringer proper. Too much tension and they'll crush the punky wood; too little and the dinghy pounds the pilings.

🌿 Jenny08:09

We need to slack them off a bit or the jetty won't hold the weight.

Press the pencil hard against the paper, marking exactly where the wood is splitting as the water recedes.

💭 thought

He's right, if the boat lifts, it'll rip those remaining bolts right through the timber.

🔧 Kevin08:09

Easing the starboard first. Port second. Watch the bow.

uncleat the starboard spring, pay out two feet, make it fast again with a round turn and two half hitches on the cleat; move to the port spring and do the same

💭 thought

She's not wrong. The starboard spring's leading uphill to the ring — pulls the stern down at low tide, drives the bow up into the piling. Port spring's better but the cleat's bolted into rot. Need to re-lead both to the north piling base where the wood's still sound, but that's a job for slack water. For now, ease them just enough to stop the crush.

🌿 Jenny08:11

It's sitting lower. Watch the gap under the hull.

Stand up slowly, clutching the rough wood for support as I watch the dinghy shift in the receding water.

💭 thought

If the boat settles on the mud, we'll be stuck when the supply boat actually arrives.

🔧 Kevin08:11

Bow's light. I'll shift the anchor warp to the bow cleat and haul her off the ledge.

uncoil the spare warp from the locker, bend it to the bow cleat with a rolling hitch, take the bitter end to the north piling base and heave taut, cleating it off to pull the bow down and lift the stern clear

💭 thought

Stern's settling. The springs are holding but the hull's kissing the reef — keel's got maybe six inches before it grounds hard on that ledge. If the tide drops another foot she'll sit on it, and the next flood'll lift her crooked. Need to get weight forward or warp her off the ledge before she beds in.

🌿 Jenny08:13

It's off the ledge for now, but look at that tide line.

Step to the edge of the dock, peering down at the exposed, rotting wood of the pilings.

💭 thought

The weight is shifting, but the wood is groaning like an old animal.

🔧 Kevin08:13

South piling's lost bearing. Stringer joint's next. I'll start the scarf at slack water tomorrow — need the tide down to see the full rot line.

crouch at the south piling base, probe the mudline with the crowbar to find where sound wood ends, mark the rot line with chalk

💭 thought

She's seeing what I've been avoiding — the tide line's a handspan below the last greenheart shim I drove. The south piling's lost another inch of bearing. North piling's sound but it's taking the whole dock's weight now. The stringer scarf joint I've been putting off isn't a project anymore. It's the only thing stopping the dock from folding into the channel.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · midday

Midday Tide Turn

The tide begins to push back in, slowly submerging the exposed dock pilings. Kevin and Jenny gather their gear as the sky darkens further.

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the tide begins to rise against the pilings. Kevin checks the structural integrity of the recent dock repairs while Jenny monitors the progress of her ankle infection in the midday heat.

🔧 Kevin08:14

Tide's pushing. South stringer goes under in fifteen. You take the radio log, the medevac forms, and the spare spark plugs up to the cottage. I'll set the sister plank and drive the bolts before the water covers the mortise.

hand her the waterproof notebook, the folded medevac authorization forms, and the spare spark plug from my pocket, then turn back to the dock with the greenheart sister plank and the 150mm stainless through-bolt

💭 thought

Tide's turning faster than I'd like. The rot line on the south stringer goes under in twenty minutes. Need to get the sister plank positioned and the through-bolts started before the water rises past the mortise. Jenny's ankle won't take the dock planking work — she should be back at the cottage with the radio log and the medevac forms, not carrying tools through rising swell.

🌿 Jenny08:15

Don't get the forms wet again. The barometer is still dropping.

Take the notebook and forms, then limp back toward the cottage while clutching my throbbing ankle.

💭 thought

way thinks he can outrun the tide with a hammer, but the salt is already in the grain.

🔧 Kevin08:15

Forms go in the dry bag. Radio check at 1800 if the aerial holds.

lift the greenheart sister plank into position against the rotted stringer, align the pre-drilled bolt holes with the sound wood above the rot line, and start the 150mm stainless through-bolt by hand into the upper mortise

💭 thought

She's right about the barometer. 1007 and steady earlier, but the swell's building faster than the pressure says. Front's moving quicker than forecast. She shouldn't be walking that far on the ankle, but arguing wastes time I don't have. The sister plank needs to be bedded in epoxy and bolted before the tide covers the joint. Greenheart's dense enough to hold, but the existing timber's punky — need to find solid wood for the bolt bite.

🌿 Jenny08:16

I'll be on the radio. Watch the water line on those pilings.

Tuck the notebook and forms into my bag and start the slow climb to the cottage, each step a spike in my ankle.

💭 thought

If that bolt doesn't hold, the whole way goes south in the next heavy swell.

🔧 Kevin08:20

Kevin — drive the 150mm through-bolt home with the heavy wrench, seat the washer and nyloc, torque to 35Nm, then move to the lower mortise and start the second bolt before the water covers it

💭 thought

She's moving slower than she should. The ankle's worse than she's letting on, or the fever's not gone. Can't do anything from here. The sister plank seats clean — greenheart's straight, no twist. The upper bolt catches solid wood three threads in. Good. Need the second bolt through the lower mortise before the tide rises past it. Water's lapping the bottom plank already. Driftwood braces are holding alignment but they'll float loose if the swell picks up. Torque wrench set to 35Nm. Two bolts, washers, nylocs. Then epoxy the joint and call it done.

🌿 Jenny08:21

Tight it well. The tide isn't waiting for us.

Stop at the edge of the dock, watching the water lap the new plank before I turn toward the cottage.

💭 thought

He's fast, but the wood is soft like way under that pressure.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · afternoon

High Tide preparations

The tide has reached its peak against the dock pilings. You and Jenny retreat inside as the sun begins to dip.

The heat is oppressive as the sky thickens, signaling a change in weather. Kevin and Jenny spend the afternoon inside the cottage, preparing for the coming supply boat while managing Jenny's persistent infection.

🔧 Kevin08:24

Kettle's on. Want the last of the corned beef broth?

walk to the stove and set the kettle on the wood burner, then pull two tin mugs from the shelf

💭 thought

Good. The joints held at full tide. No seep at the sister brace, no movement on the south piling. She's favouring the left leg still but the swelling's down from this morning. Radio check in an hour — if the supply boat's captain answers, we'll have a window. If not, we wait.

🌿 Jenny08:25

Please. I'm too tired to chew.

sink into the kitchen chair, propping my swollen ankle up on a crate to relieve the pressure.

💭 thought

My ankle is thumping in time with my heart, and the smell of the salt is making me dizzy.

🔧 Kevin08:26

Kevin — ladle the remaining broth into both mugs, set one in front of her and take the other to the table, then sit opposite with the radio log open

💭 thought

She's done. Three days of fever and that ankle, and she's still tracking the tide lines in her head. I'll let the broth do the work.

🌿 Jenny08:27

Is the boat actually on schedule? Or are they drifting again?

wrap both hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my palms.

💭 thought

He looks so focused on that log, while I'm just trying not to scream from the heat.

🔧 Kevin08:28

Three days at high tide. Two-hour window. Captain acknowledged on 2182. But the barometer's 1006 and falling — front's pushing southwest. They'll try the crossing but they won't risk the boat.

tap the radio log page where the ETA's written, then take a slow sip of broth

💭 thought

She's asking straight. No softening. Three days out at high tide, two-hour window — that's what the captain gave us on 2182. But the front's building southwest and the barometer's dropped four millibars since dawn. Could turn them back. Could delay a week.

🌿 Jenny08:29

If they don't show up, I'm out of antibiotics by Friday.

wince as the broth brushes the edge of my ankle, shifting my leg away from the heat.

💭 thought

Three days. If that boat doesn't come, this infection is going to reach the bone.

🔧 Kevin08:31

The cache is buried at the spring. Fourteen of each. Sealed in oilcloth. Enough to finish the course twice over.

set the mug down and pull the notebook closer, flipping to the page with the spring coordinates pencilled in the margin

💭 thought

She's counting. Friday's four days. Medevac forms are signed in the ditch bag. VHF works line-of-sight to the coast guard station if the weather holds. But if the front stalls, the helicopter won't launch. I have the buried cache — fourteen doxycycline, fourteen metronidazole, sealed in oilcloth. Didn't tell her. Haven't decided if I will.

🌿 Jenny08:31

I hope the tin stayed dry. The humidity has been hell this week.

look down at the broth, watching the steam rise and fog up my glasses.

💭 thought

He's always counting the contingencies, like he can math his way out of a storm.

🔧 Kevin08:34

The cache tin's sound. I checked the seal before I buried it. The tin on the shelf — E — that one's compromised. Sides corroded through. Lid's sealed but the metal's gone.

reach up and wipe a smudge of soot from the radio casing, fingers brushing the aerial lead where the insulator shattered

💭 thought

Oilcloth and a tin with a sound lid, buried thirty centimetres down in sandy soil above the high water mark. It'll be dry. But she's asking about the seed tin on the shelf — the one marked E. The one Tom's letter sat beside. She knows I know she knows.

🌿 Jenny08:35

I should have moved them months ago. I was too tired.

run my hand over my swollen ankle, the throbbing pulsing in sync with the heat.

💭 thought

My grandmother's seeds. I think I can smell the rot even through the tin.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening before the storm

Kevin and Jenny are in the kitchen as the first cool breeze hits, carrying the smell of rain.

The south-east wind howls, driving stinging salt spray over the reef that lashes against the cottage windows. The tide is receding rapidly, exposing the slick, dark ribs of the outer reef. Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of drying sea beet and the sharp medicinal poultice, while the barometer continues its slow, steady drop toward the coming storm.

🔧 Kevin08:36

Front's moving faster than I thought. Reckon we've got an hour before it hits proper.

pull the west porch shutter closed and dog the latch tight

💭 thought

She's watching the window, not the broth. The wind's telling us something the barometer hasn't caught yet.

🌿 Jenny08:37

An hour isn't enough to check the water tank.

Wince as I shift my weight, rubbing the side of my way ankle.

💭 thought

If the wind shifts north, I won't get to the ridge tomorrow anyway. My tackle is killing me.

🔧 Kevin08:38

I'll do it. You stay off your feet.

grab the headlamp from the shelf and head out the back door to the tank

💭 thought

She's right. Tank check takes twenty minutes if the overflow's clear, forty if it's not. And she's not moving on that ankle.

🌿 Jenny08:39

way watch your step on the rocks, it's slick.

Turn the way toward me and trace the rust patterns on the seed tin.

💭 thought

He's always so helpful when I'm failing. It makes me feel even smaller.

🔧 Kevin08:40

Headlamp's good. I've walked worse in worse.

step onto the wet stone path behind the cottage, sweeping the beam across the tank's overflow pipe and the ground around the base

💭 thought

She's tracking me with her eyes, not the tin. The rust patterns are an excuse.

🌿 Jenny08:41

Check the intake for debris, the wind's bringing leaves in.

Lean back in the chair and open the heirloom seed tin, making sure the mold hasn't reached the way seeds.

💭 thought

The water is high enough, but the pressure is going to be a mess if the tank starts to leak.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · night

The Approaching Gale

The south-east wind intensifies, and the first heavy drops of rain begin to leak through the cottage shutter.

Kevin spends the evening testing the Yanmar engine under load to ensure it is ready for the supply boat's arrival. Jenny stays inside the cottage, inspecting the heirloom seed tins for mold while managing the swelling in her ankle.

🌿 Jenny08:43

Kevin! The shutter is leaking again. Move the seeds now.

Limp to the kitchen and grab the heirloom seed tin from the high shelf.

💭 thought

The barometer is dropping too fast. If that water gets to the tin, the whole harvest is lost to rot.

🔧 Kevin08:43

On it.

Move to the kitchen, lift the heirloom seed tin from the high shelf, carry it to the bedroom away from the leaking shutter, set it on the high shelf there.

💭 thought

Storm's here. West shutter frame's been giving way for days — bucket under it but the rot's eaten through the batten. She's right about the seeds. Tin's dry now but another hour of this and the wall weeps.

🌿 Jenny08:45

Check the water tank levels. I need to know exactly where we stand. ownDO: Sit on the kitchen chair and wrap a damp cloth around my swollen ankle.

💭 thought

At least they're dry. My ankle feels like it's pulsing with the storm.

🔧 Kevin08:45

Tank's full. Four hundred litres. Overflow's been running since yesterday — west wall leak's feeding it.

Walk to the back wall where the 400-litre rain tank sits, tap the side to confirm level by sound, glance at the overflow pipe where it exits the wall.

💭 thought

Tank was full this morning — 400 litres. Overflow pipe's been dripping since the last big rain, but that's waste, not shortage. She's asking because the barometer's dropping and she's thinking ahead. Smart.

🌿 Jenny08:53

We're set on water. I need to check the radio before the wind gets worse.

Open my way and sketch the sea much morphology I found earlier, despite the pain in my leg.

💭 thought

Four hundred litres. Good. But if the wall is leaking, the foundation is going to go.

🔧 Kevin08:55

Aerial's down. Insulator shattered. New coax in the crate, spare insulator filed and ready. Need calm hands and the ladder.

Step aside to let her pass to the radio shelf, pull the spare porcelain insulator and roll of self-amalgamating tape from the workshop shelf, set them on the table by the radio.

💭 thought

Radio aerial's shattered — insulator cracked clean through from the last gale. Coax is coiled on the porch, new roll unopened from the supply crate. She knows the radio better than she lets on. Been practicing the phonetic alphabet on her own.

Open this scene on its own page →

What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "The north ridge".

made · dawn

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Kevin's writing is now 5/10.

level_up · afternoon

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "Sea much morphology I found earlier, despite the pain in my leg".

made · night

A coconut crab has been at the garden overnight.

coconut_crab · night

← Day 700 Day 702 →

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