Day 702
Tide, Timber, and Infection
Dawn found the tide dropping fast, exposing the south piling. Kevin worked beneath it while the Yanmar idled, checking vibration mount bolts. Jenny sat on a crate wrapping her ankle, watching the water pull away from the reef. Air still, smelling of drying kelp and diesel. "Tide's dropping fast. Gives us another hour before the south piling's dry enough to sister proper," Kevin said. Jenny limped to the generator shed for the crowbar and heavy-duty tarp. "Crowbar's on the porch. Tarp's under the generator shed bench. Don't drag it — the rot goes through to the joist on the third plank." She checked the oil slick on the shed floor while Kevin probed the piling joint with a knife. "The wood is softer than it looked yesterday," she said. By morning Kevin had secured the storm tarp with chain and timber strips and begun sistering the south pilings using greenheart offcuts and the last stainless through-bolt. Jenny found advanced rot in three seaward dock planks, rot line extending into the stringer at the third. She reset the Carex transect cairns on the north ridge — no new movement since last survey. Midday: barometer steady at 1005 hPa. Supply boat due in two days at high tide. They ate broth and limpets on the porch. Kevin ran the Yanmar at full throttle, dinghy held fast against doubled mooring lines. The greenheart sister-joint showed no movement or weeping. Jenny monitored closely. Yanmar vibration at half-throttle had been solely prop shaft misalignment, now corrected by bronze sleeve. Afternoon: Kevin climbed the radio mast to replace the shattered aerial insulator with the filed ceramic spare, sealing it with self-amalgamating tape. She checked the water tank for leaks and tended her ankle. Evening: wind rattled shutters. Temperature dropped. They discussed inventory for the supply boat. Radio log confirmed three days at high tide, two-hour window; captain acknowledged on 2182. Front stalling southwest of Santa Cruz. Kevin checked the med cache — fourteen doxycycline, fourteen metronidazole, sealed in oilcloth. Courses completed, blister packs burned. Jenny had sea beet poultice with pine resin. "That's what slows it when the infection tracks. Hold the resin treatment ready. I need to debride twice daily if it spreads past the margin."
Dawn found the tide dropping fast, exposing the south piling. Kevin worked beneath it while the Yanmar idled, checking vibration mount bolts. Jenny sat on a crate wrapping her ankle, watching the water pull away from the reef. Air still, smelling of drying kelp and diesel. "Tide's dropping fast. Gives us another hour before the south piling's dry enough to sister proper," Kevin said. Jenny limped to the generator shed for the crowbar and heavy-duty tarp. "Crowbar's on the porch. Tarp's under the generator shed bench. Don't drag it — the rot goes through to the joist on the third plank." She checked the oil slick on the shed floor while Kevin probed the piling joint with a knife. "The wood is softer than it looked yesterday," she said. By morning Kevin had secured the storm tarp with chain and timber strips and begun sistering the south pilings using greenheart offcuts and the last stainless through-bolt. Jenny found advanced rot in three seaward dock planks, rot line extending into the stringer at the third. She reset the Carex transect cairns on the north ridge — no new movement since last survey. Midday: barometer steady at 1005 hPa. Supply boat due in two days at high tide. They ate broth and limpets on the porch. Kevin ran the Yanmar at full throttle, dinghy held fast against doubled mooring lines. The greenheart sister-joint showed no movement or weeping. Jenny monitored closely. Yanmar vibration at half-throttle had been solely prop shaft misalignment, now corrected by bronze sleeve. Afternoon: Kevin climbed the radio mast to replace the shattered aerial insulator with the filed ceramic spare, sealing it with self-amalgamating tape. She checked the water tank for leaks and tended her ankle. Evening: wind rattled shutters. Temperature dropped. They discussed inventory for the supply boat. Radio log confirmed three days at high tide, two-hour window; captain acknowledged on 2182. Front stalling southwest of Santa Cruz. Kevin checked the med cache — fourteen doxycycline, fourteen metronidazole, sealed in oilcloth. Courses completed, blister packs burned. Jenny had sea beet poultice with pine resin. "That's what slows it when the infection tracks. Hold the resin treatment ready. I need to debride twice daily if it spreads past the margin."
Night: water boiled. Kevin prepared the scalpel over flame. "Last sterile gauze used this morning. Saline empty. Scal
Scenes
the dock · dawnLow Tide Inspection and Maintenance
Kevin works beneath the exposed pilings while the Yanmar engine idles, checking the vibration mount bolts. Jenny sits on a crate nearby, wrapping her ankle as she watches the tide pull away from the reef. The air is still and smells of drying kelp and diesel.
The tide is receding quickly, exposing the lower sections of the south piling. Kevin and Jenny work together to retrieve the crowbar and a heavy-duty tarp from the generator shed before the water returns. Jenny limps to the shed to check the oil slick on the floor while Kevin uses a knife to probe the joint between the piling and the sister timber.
The wood is softer than it looked yesterday.
Tighten the bandage on my ankle and wince as the pressure hits the swelling.
💭 thought
Tide's dropping fast. Gives us another hour before the south piling's dry enough to sister proper.
Tighten the last vibration mount bolt with the 19mm wrench, then wipe grease off my hands on a rag and crouch to sight along the dock stringer where the rot line was marked.
💭 thought
I'll get the crowbar and the heavy-duty tarp from the shed.
Stand up slowly, leaning heavily on the driftwood cane to take the weight off my ankle.
💭 thought
Crowbar's on the porch. Tarp's under the generator shed bench. Don't drag it — the rot goes through to the joist on the third plank.
Stand, stretch the stiffness from my lower back, and walk to the south end of the dock where the piling sits exposed in the falling tide, crouching to probe the sister brace joint with the tip of my knife.
💭 thought
I'll check the joist while I grab the tarp.
Limp own the generator shed, favoring the throbbing heat in my ankle with every step.
💭 thought
Watch the floor in there. Oil slick by the generator mount.
Scrape marine growth from the south piling's base with the knife tip, exposing the greenheart sister timber's lower edge, and tap it with the mallet to check for hollow sounds.
💭 thought
I'll check the oil after I get the tarp.
Step into the shed, avoiding the dark patch to reach for the crowbar and the tarp under the bench.
💭 thought
Toss the crowbar out first. I'll pull the tarp.
Lever the knife blade deeper into the joint between piling and sister timber, feeling for give, and glance back toward the shed door.
💭 thought
On it.
Grab the crowbar and slide it toward the dock with a heavy thud.
💭 thought
Kevin — pick up the crowbar, set it against the dock plank nearest the south piling, and wait for the tarp to come sliding out.
💭 thought
the dock · morningMorning of Day 702
Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the tide begins to turn in. The tarp is laid over the affected area, and the supply boat is now expected in one day.
Kevin secured the storm tarp with chain and timber strips, then began sistering the south pilings using greenheart offcuts and the last stainless through-bolt. Jenny probed the north dock planks, finding advanced rot in three seaward planks, and reset the Carex transect cairns on the north ridge before the tide turned.
One day. Make sure the tarp is weighted down tight before the swell catches it.
Jenny shifts weight to her good leg, wincing as the ankle pulses, and reaches into her pocket to touch the small tin of seeds.
💭 thought
Chain's in the shed. Timber strips by the garden wall. Back in twenty.
Walk to the generator shed, retrieve the 6mm galvanized chain coil and two fresh timber strips, return to the dock.
💭 thought
I'll start checking the moorings on the north side. They look loose again.
Jenny sits on a weathered crate, pulling out her way to begin mapping the pattern of the cracks in the stringer.
💭 thought
Don't test the planks. Probe them first. I'll secure the tarp and meet you there.
Lay the chain along the tarp's seaward edge, weigh down with timber strips at each corner and midpoints, pull tarp drum-tight against the dock structure.
💭 thought
Be careful. The wood is soft as a sponge near the water-line pilings.
Jenny presses her pencil to the paper, sketching the jagged line of a spruce crack while her ankle throbs in time with the waves.
💭 thought
I know. Sistering the south pair first. Greenheart offcuts are on the dock. Bolts staged at the east shutter.
Retrieve the greenheart offcuts and the last 10mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut from the east shutter, carry to the south pilings.
💭 thought
I'll watch the water level. If the tide rises too fast, the swell will lift the tarp.
Jenny closes her sketchbook, wincing as she stands and shifts her weight to check the swollen ankle poultice.
💭 thought
Go sit. Radio watch at the cottage. I'll call if the boat shows early.
Clamp the first greenheart sister against the south piling, drill the through-bolt hole, drive the 10mm stainless bolt with washer and nyloc nut, torque to 35Nm.
💭 thought
the keeper's cottage · middayMidday meal and supply boat watch
Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage porch. The storm tarp is secured, the first south piling sistered, and the north dock planks marked. The barometer holds steady at 1005 hPa. The supply boat is due in two days at high tide. They share broth and limpets, check the radio, and plan the afternoon.
Kevin ran the Yanmar at full throttle for a sustained period while the dinghy was held fast against doubled mooring lines, and the greenheart sister-joint at the dock showed no movement or weeping. Jenny monitored the repair closely throughout the test, confirming the structural integrity of the dock reinforcement under load.
Broth's hot. Limpets done. Radio check at 1400 if the ionosphere holds. Afternoon: Yanmar under load for the hour, then the insulator. You want the hilltop or the dock for the test run?
pour two mugs of limpet broth from the pot on the stove, set one on the porch table beside Jenny, take the other for myself, sit on the porch step facing the garden
💭 thought
The dock. I want to check the sister-joint before the tide rises and they<strong> the gear.
Take a slow sip of the hot broth, watching the half-weeded garden in the wind.
💭 thought
Dock it is. Yanmar in the dinghy, run the prop under load against the mooring lines. Watch the sister at high slack. Then the insulator.
finish the broth, set the mug down, stand, stretch the shoulders, walk down the porch steps toward the dock path
💭 thought
I'll follow you. Just keep an eye on the tension while the engine is screaming.
Grab the cane and the notebook, hobbling toward the dock to watch the tide.
💭 thought
Lines are doubled. Bow and stern. Warp's clear. I'll bring her up slow, hold at half-throttle, then full for ten minutes. You watch the greenheart — any weep, any movement, shout.
step into the dinghy, check the throttle linkage, turn the fuel valve, hit the decompression lever, crank the starter
💭 thought
I'm watching. Don't pin it too fast.
Lean on the way, eyes fixed on the sister-joint where the greenheart meets theings.
💭 thought
She's warm. Bringing her to half.
ease the throttle to half, grip the tiller against the prop walk, watch the RPM gauge climb, glance at the sister joint through the spray
💭 thought
Hold it there. way for a second.
Tighten the grip on the cane, leaning forward to see the gap between the wood.
💭 thought
Steady at eighteen hundred. No movement. No weep. Going to full.
push the throttle to full, brace a boot against the transom knee, watch the RPM needle settle, count the seconds
💭 thought
Watch the bolts!
Squint against the spray, eyes locked on the sister-joint for any sign of movement.
💭 thought
the keeper's cottage · afternoonShortwave insulator replacement
Kevin climbs the radio mast at the cottage to replace the shattered aerial insulator with the filed ceramic spare, sealing it with self-amalgamating tape. Jenny sits on the porch with her notebook, updating the sea beet transect sketches and watching the sky. The barometer holds at 1005 hPa. The supply boat is due tomorrow.
Kevin spent the afternoon testing the Yanmar engine under load to monitor for vibrations while the wind intensified. Jenny checked the water tank for leaks and tended her ankle before sketching the fallen spruce tree near the path.
The wind is shifting to the north; check the fuel level on the generator one last time.
sketch the way the light hits the salt on the stone wall.
💭 thought
Generator's three-quarters. Enough for a week if the boat doesn't show.
climb the radio mast, ceramic insulator and self-amalgamating tape in pocket, test the coax connection at the base before going up
💭 thought
Just make sure the connection is tight; I need it if the weather turns.
remove the poultice from my own and check for heat.
💭 thought
Connection's clean. Ceramic seats flat. Taping now.
wrap the self-amalgamating tape around the ceramic base and coax junction, overlapping half-width, pull tight each turn to activate the bond, work down to the mast bracket, tug test the aerial wire
💭 thought
Take your time. I'm checking the water level in the tank.
walk to the back of the cottage and check the gauge on the 400-litre tank.
💭 thought
Tape's set. Aerial's solid. Coming down.
descend the mast, feet finding the rungs by feel, drop to the porch roof, step down to the ground, wipe tape residue from hands on trousers
💭 thought
Water's good. We're set for a few days.
sit on the porch steps and rub my way own, watching the waves break on the reef.
💭 thought
Yanmar's warm from the test. If they call on the hour, we're loud and clear.
walk to the radio shelf, flip the power switch, hear the familiar hiss of static, set the squelch, tune to 2182 kHz, rest a hand on the mic without keying it
💭 thought
the old shrine · eveningEvening Prep for the Supply Boat
The wind continues to rattle the cottage shutters as the temperature drops. You and Jenny meet inside to discuss the inventory for the arrival in two days.
The evening air at the shrine is heavy and still, the 31°C heat clinging to the stone as the tide begins its slow retreat, exposing the slick rocks of the shore below. Kevin and Jenny sit together in the fading light, the smell of salt and drying wood drifting between them as they focus on the encroaching infection on Jenny's ankle.
Radio log says three days at high tide, two-hour window. Captain acknowledged on 2182. Front's stalling southwest of Santa Cruz — could pin them in the lee. We'll know more at 0600.
pull out the supply crate inventory list and set it on the table beside the storm lantern
💭 thought
Two days is a long time for a storm like this. Check the inventory for the antibiotics first.
Jenny leans heavily on the table, tracing the list with a shaky, swollen finger.
💭 thought
Cache in the floor — fourteen doxy, fourteen metro, sealed oilcloth. Courses completed. Blister packs empty, burned.
tap the inventory list at the medical line, then reach for the tin mug of broth and slide it closer to her
💭 thought
Doxy's done, but I've got the sea beet poultice with pine resin. That's what slows it when the infection tracks. Hold the resin treatment ready. I need to debride twice daily if it spreads past the margin.
Jenny grabs her notebook, flipping to the medical section where she's been marking the infection's boundary with a pen. </think>THOUGHT: If the infection crosses the margin before the boat comes, I'm dead out here. Jenny uncaps a small vial
💭 thought
Last sterile gauze used this morning. Saline empty. Scalpel needs flame. I'll boil water, make saline from salt and the filtered tank water. Resin vial's in the med kit — you warmed it yesterday?
turn toward the stove, lift the kettle to check water level, then move to the workbench for the scalpel and medical kit
💭 thought
It's in the kit. Just make sure the temperature is right; the skin is already screaming.
Jenny reaches for the medical kit, her fingers trembling as she avoids the sharp edges of the tools.
💭 thought
Water's heating. I'll test the resin on my wrist first. You mark the new margin.
set the kettle on the stove, pull the medical kit close, and lift the resin vial to the light to check clarity
💭 thought
It's there. way don't burn me with it—the skin is sensitive enough as is.
Jenny leans over the notebook, tracing the red line around the edge of the swelling with a heavy hand.
💭 thought
the old shrine · nightEvening Treatment Preparation
The water reaches a boil as Kevin prepares the scalpel over the flame, the first stars of night appearing on the overcast horizon.
Kevin prepares the Yanmar engine for a high-load test to verify the recent vibration fixes, while Jenny stays at the shrine, managing her ankle infection and preparing supplies for the supply boat's arrival in two days.
Just be quick, Kevin. I can't stand the smell.
Jenny grips the edge of the stone stone and exhales slowly through her nose.
💭 thought
Hold the mug. Both hands.
lift the scalpel from the simmering water with the pliers, wipe the blade on the clean cloth, kneel beside her ankle, and make a quick, controlled incision at the center of the swelling where the skin is thinnest and whitest
💭 thought
I'm ready. Don't slip.
Jenny clenches the mug with both hands, her knuckles white, and stares fixed at the horizon.
💭 thought
Kevin — set the scalpel aside on the clean cloth, press thumb and forefinger on either side of the incision to milk the wound, wipe the flow with fresh gauze, repeat until the discharge runs thin and pinkish, then scoop the sea beet-mint-honey poul
💭 thought
Clean. Finally, it's clean. Clean. Finally, it's clean.
Jenny releases the mug and lets her hands drop to her sides. </think>THOUGHT: The infection lines are receding at the edges, just like the poultice should. Jenny releases the mug and lets her hands drop to her sides.
💭 thought
Good. Hold still — packing it now.
scoop the fresh sea beet-mint-honey poultice onto the gauze, press it gently into the incision and over the surrounding redness, wrap the ankle firm with clean strips, tie off the ends, then reach for the metronidazole blister pack and the
💭 thought
Is it tight? I can feel the pulse already.
Jenny leans her head back against the weathered stone, watching his hands work the bandage.
💭 thought
Firm. Not tight. Pulse means it's working.
press the last metronidazole tablet into her palm and hold out the tin mug of warm broth, then stand and stretch the stiffness from my knees while she swallows
💭 thought
What changed
a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.