Day 789

Crate Haul and Rising Water

Dawn found Kevin hauling a waterlogged crate onto the dock as the rising tide tugged the lower pilings. Jenny sat on a cedar beam, watching the barometer drop while rain intensified. The drizzle turned planks slick and dark. Kevin secured the crate: "Crate's secure. Double bowline on the seaward cleat, half-hitches on the landward. Won't walk off on us." Jenny said, "Check the landward side again. The rot is deeper than it looked last week." Kevin replied, "Landward cleat's in the rot zone. I'll sister a sound plank behind it before the tide peaks." Jenny told him to use stainless bolts: "The wood is like way right now." Kevin listed the plan: "Stainless. Two 150s with washers and nylocs. Sound core's spruce — not greenheart, but it's dry and straight." As tide climbed, Jenny warned, "Check the tension on that line. The water is coming in faster than the forecast." Kevin said, "Line's loaded. Swell period's shortening." At midday, Kevin pried the crate open, revealing partially waterlogged supplies protected by salt. He inventoried: "Pipe wrench, 18-inch. Copper sheet, two by three feet — enough for the spillway extension. Heavy wiring, galvanized, fifty feet maybe. Three tins corned beef, labels intact. Box of fishing hooks, assorted. Canvas roll, heavy duty, dry. And this." Jenny examined the sealed tin: "Let me see the seal. Don't open it yet, the humidity is spiking." Kevin confirmed, "Seal's clean. No vinegar smell, no rust weep at the crimp. Lid seats flat." They waited for pressure to drop. Evening brought rising water to the third piling. Kevin reported, "Coffee. Corned beef — six tins. Half-inch rope, fifteen meters, dry.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Tide-locked crate

Kevin hauls the waterlogged crate onto the dock as the rising tide toges the lower pilings. Jenny sits on aed beam, watching the barometer drop while the rain begins to intensify.

The rain continues as a steady, warm drizzle, turning the dock planks slick and dark. The tide is rising steadily, water lapping at the rocks where the heavy wooden crate is wedged. The air pressure is holding steady for now.

🌿 Jenny09:34

Jenny is quiet for a moment.

flagged: empty

💭 thought

That crate is going to take the jetty with it if he isn't careful, and I'm too damn tired to

🔧 Kevin09:34

Crate's secure. Double bowline on the seaward cleat, half-hitches on the landward. Won't walk off on us.

Tie off the crate lines, check the knots twice, then walk back to the cottage porch to check the barometer reading myself.

💭 thought

Tide's pushing harder than I expected. Crate's heavier than it looks — salt-crusted wood soaks up water like a sponge. Jenny's watching the barometer, not the water. She knows what falling pressure means here.

🌿 Jenny09:35

Check the landward side again. The rot is deeper than it looked last week.

Reach for the notebook to note the pressure at 998 hPa; the rain is falling harder now.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping too fast for his 'secure' knots, and the tide is already licking the wood.

🔧 Kevin09:36

Landward cleat's in the rot zone. I'll sister a sound plank behind it before the tide peaks.

Walk back to the dock, probe the timber around the landward cleat with the nail puller, then grab a salvaged sound core and the 150mm through-bolts from the east shutter staging area.

💭 thought

She's right. The landward cleat's bolted into the same rot that took the south planks. If the tide surges with this pressure drop, the crate becomes a battering ram against pilings that are already compromised.

🌿 Jenny09:37

Make sure you use the stainless bolts. The wood is like way right now.

Stand up slowly, wincing as my ankle throb, and go watch him work in the rain.

💭 thought

If he doesn't sister that plank right, the whole thing will shear into the sea with the next surge.

🔧 Kevin09:38

Stainless. Two 150s with washers and nylocs. Sound core's spruce — not greenheart, but it's dry and straight.

Drill pilot holes through the salvaged spruce core into sound timber behind the rot, drive the stainless through-bolts, torque to 35Nm, then re-tie the crate's landward line to the new sister.

💭 thought

She's watching. Good. Means she'll see if the sister holds. Stainless won't rot out in a season like the galvanized did. Wood's wet through to the heart — drives different when it's this soft.

🌿 Jenny09:39

Check the tension on that line. The water is coming in faster than the forecast.

Reach out and touch the new wood, feeling the vibration of the swell against the dock.

💭 thought

I hope that spruce holds; the tide is already fighting the pilings.

🔧 Kevin09:40

Line's loaded. Swell period's shortening.

Check the landward line tension, pay out two feet of slack through the cleat to let the crate rise with the surge instead of jerking the sister, then step back and watch the water climb the pilings.

💭 thought

She feels it through her fingers — the dock breathing with the swell. Line's singing already. Tide's pushing harder than the forecast, and the barometer's still dropping. Crate's acting like a sea anchor on that cleat.

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the dock · morning

Rising Tide and Persistent Rain

The tide continues to climb, submerging the lower rocks near the dock. The rain hasn't stopped, making the ground soft and work difficult.

Kevin works on the heavy salt-crusted crate secured at the dock while the tide remains high against the pilings. Jenny monitors the thickening cloud cover from the ridge, noting the shift in the dry air.

🌿 Jenny09:41

The water is getting too high for the dinghy lines.

Walk to the edge of the dock and kick the rotten timber to check for stability.

💭 thought

The tide is going to take the jetty if I don't sister those planks soon. I need to check the water in the tank.

🔧 Kevin09:42

Aye. Let her breathe — pay out the bow line two feet, then snub the stern spring on the north piling. I'll watch the chafe.

walk to the dinghy, ease the bow line off the cleat, pay out two feet of slack, re-cleat it, then take the stern spring to the north piling and tension it with a rolling hitch

💭 thought

She's right — the dinghy's riding high on the swell now, lines singing. If one parts she'll drift broadside into the pilings. Need to ease her out and double the springs before the tide peaks.

🌿 Jenny09:43

way don't pull too hard, the wood is like sponge.

Squat down by the

💭 thought

He's so focused on the mechanics, ignoring the rot under his feet. If those planks go any further, the whole structure is going to shear under its own weight.

🔧 Kevin09:44

Not pulling hard. Just taking the slack. The load's on the piling, not the plank.

stand by the north piling, one hand on the spring line feeling for shock loads, the other braced against the greenheart sister plate, watching the timber for movement where it meets the seabed

💭 thought

She's testing the piling itself — smart. The greenheart sister's holding but the old spruce core behind it could be hollowing out. If that gives, the whole seaward corner walks.

🌿 Jenny09:45

The ground is already shifting, I can feel it moving under the tide.

Reach out and press a thumb into the softest part of the rotten plank.

💭 thought

He's right about the load, but the piling is only as good as the wood holding it. If the clay shifts, the whole thing goes into the surf.

🔧 Kevin09:46

The piling's walking. We need to drive the wedges deeper at the base before the next big set. Got the sledge in the shed?

step back onto solid dock planking, glance toward the cottage where the sledge hangs, then back at the piling base where water churns around the greenheart sister

💭 thought

She feels it through the soles — the whole seaward corner's breathing with the swell. The piling's not driven deep enough in this clay. Every wave lifts it a hair, sucks it back. The sister plate's holding the plank but the piling's working loose underneath.

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the dock · midday

The Crate Revealed

Kevin kneels over the open crate at the dock while Jenny observes the approaching front.

Kevin finds a heavy wooden crate wedged between the rocks near the dock as the tide retreats. He manages to pry it open, revealing supplies that are partially waterlogged but protected by the salt.

🌿 Jenny09:49

Not today, not yet.

tuck the seed tin into my pocket and start the descent toward the cottage.

💭 thought

The storm is coming faster than the charts predicted. If I don't get these seeds in the ground now, the runoff will wash them right into the sea.

🔧 Kevin09:50

Kevin — pull back the crate lid and inventory what's inside

💭 thought

Let's see what the sea saw fit to give back.

🌿 Jenny09:53

Jenny — whistle sharply toward the dock to catch Kevin's attention.

💭 thought

The wind is picking up; I can smell the salt and heavy rain. Kevin needs to get that gear inside before the first real gust hits.

🔧 Kevin09:54

Kevin — haul the crate contents up to the cottage pantry, make two trips if needed

💭 thought

Good. The tins are sealed. Coffee's a luxury that'll keep. Rope's dry — that's the real find. Nineteen tins between corned beef and mackerel, plus whatever's in the provision boxes. Need to get this up to the cottage before the tide turns proper.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Inventorying the haul

Kevin and Jenny meet at the kitchen table as he lays out the contents of the crate.

Kevin and Jenny spent the afternoon at the cottage as the humidity rose and the tide fell. They inventoried supplies from a waterlogged crate and discussed the tasks ahead before the supply boat's arrival.

🔧 Kevin09:56

Pipe wrench, 18-inch. Copper sheet, two by three feet — enough for the spillway extension. Heavy wiring, galvanized, fifty feet maybe. Three tins corned beef, labels intact. Box of fishing hooks, assorted. Canvas roll, heavy duty, dry. And this.

set the small sealed metal tin marked 'E' on the table between us, wiping salt crust from its lid with a thumb

💭 thought

Good haul. Real tools, not the usual mainland cast-offs. That pipe wrench alone saves me improvising with a cheater bar on the Yanmar fuel line. And the copper sheet — finally enough to finish the spillway proper instead of patching it every storm.

🌿 Jenny09:57

Let me see the seal. Don't open it yet, the humidity is spiking.

Jenny reaches out, fingers hovering over the cold metal, checking for any scent of vinegar or rot.

💭 thought

He finally found the tin. If the seeds are damp inside, the whole year of this isolation was just for nothing.

🔧 Kevin09:58

Seal's clean. No vinegar smell, no rust weep at the crimp. Lid seats flat.

slide the tin back toward myself, pull the roll of self-amalgamating tape from my pocket, and wrap three tight turns around the lid-to-body seam, pressing each layer down with thumb and forefinger

💭 thought

She's right. Humidity's climbing fast — can feel it in the joints. Whatever's in tin E survived the crate; no sense letting island air ruin it now.

🌿 Jenny09:59

Wait for the pressure to drop before we crack it. I don't want the moisture hitting the seeds.

I pick up my notebook and a pencil, sketching the exact state of the tin and the tape Kevin applied.

💭 thought

If the seal is tight, I can finally test the south slope. I need to stop looking at the weeds and start planting.

🔧 Kevin10:00

Barometer hasn't moved in six hours. Could hold till morning. We'll wait.

pull out the chair opposite her, sit, and start cleaning the pipe wrench with a rag, working the jaws open and shut until the action's smooth

💭 thought

Pressure's holding at 1000 steady. Could be hours before it breaks. She's already logging it — good. Means she's thinking past today.

🌿 Jenny10:01

You're right. Let's make those six hours count.

I grab the spade and walk toward the south slope, intending to dig a test pit and assess the drainage.

💭 thought

Six hours to dry the soil near the volcanic outcrop, maybe. If I can get that south slope test done, I can finally plant grandmother's seeds.

🔧 Kevin10:02

Watch the north face. Crack's widened since yesterday.

set the pipe wrench down clean, pick up the 19mm socket and torque wrench, and walk out the porch door toward the dock to check the mooring ring bolts while the tide's still low enough to see them

💭 thought

South slope test pits. She's checking the intercept trench we dug last month — smart. Clay's been weeping since the rain started.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Preparing for the evening

Kevin and Jenny meet on the porch as the sun sets and the breeze dies down.

Kevin spends the low tide checking the dock's landward cleat and preparing for the supply boat. Jenny stays at the cottage to manage her ankle and prepare the remaining boiled limpets as the tide begins to turn.

🌿 Jenny10:03

The tide's coming in. We need to check the salt on the dock before it gets dark.

Sit on the porch steps, rubbing my swollen ankle while staring at the darkening horizon.

💭 thought

My ankle is pulsing again, and the air is so heavy it feels like trying to breathe through wool.

🔧 Kevin10:04

Aye. Give me five minutes to clean up.

walk to the workshop shed, wipe hands on a rag, grab the 19mm wrench and headlamp, then walk down to the dock

💭 thought

She's right about the tide. The dock took a beating last storm and the southeast swell's building. Need to check the mooring ring bolts and the south piling sister before dark.

🌿 Jenny10:05

I'll grab the lantern. Don't trip on the cleats, they are slick.

Stand up slowly, wincing as the weight shifts on my ankle, and head inside the kitchen for the flashlight.

💭 thought

Five minutes is an eternity when the tide is moving this fast and my leg is screaming.

🔧 Kevin10:06

I'll watch the cleats. You watch the steps.

step onto the dock planking, headlamp beam cutting across the wet wood, walk toward the seaward end where the mooring ring sits

💭 thought

She's moving slower than yesterday. The poultice helped the swelling but the joint's still hot. Should've made her stay off it another day.

🌿 Jenny10:07

Watch out for the algae! The water is already higher than the last check.

Pick up the heavy lantern from the counter, click it on, and step out onto the porch.

💭 thought

He's moving too fast for that surface; the wood is going to give way under his boots.

🔧 Kevin10:08

Wedges held last check. But the swell's different tonight.

crouch at the mooring ring, run fingers over the six oak wedges driven into the mortise, test each with the wrench handle for movement, then check the four 150mm through-bolts on the steel doubler plate

💭 thought

Tide's pushing harder than the tables said. Southeast swell stacking against the ebb. The mooring ring took the brunt last time — if the oak wedges have worked loose, the doubler plate bolts are the only thing holding.

🌿 Jenny10:09

Check the bolts again. Is there any shearing?

Lean against the way post, shining the lantern down to see where the water is hitting the pilings.

💭 thought

The swell is pulling at the island; if those wedges go, the dock goes with the tide.

🔧 Kevin10:10

Wedges are tight. No crush marks on the grain. Bolts...

put the wrench on each nyloc nut, apply steady torque, feel for any give or click of stripped threads in the greenheart

💭 thought

She's sharp even hobbled. Knows exactly what fails first. The wedges are vertical grain, driven tight — but greenheart's dense and the mortise splintered when the ring tore free. If the wedges crushed, the load transferred to the bolts.

🌿 Jenny10:11

Look at the water line. Is it rising faster than the last hour?

Squat down at the edge of the porch, shifting my weight to the good leg to watch the tide swirl around the rocks.

💭 thought

If the bolts are holding, the wood is just stressed, but the salt is deep.

🔧 Kevin10:12

Rising faster. Swell period's shortening — eight seconds between peaks. That's not just tide.

stand, brace a hand on the north piling, watch the water climb the greenheart, count seconds between wave crests hitting the dock face

💭 thought

She's watching the water, I'm watching the steel. Both matter. The swell's pushing up the dock face — each wave slaps the pilings and the whole structure shudders. If the south piling sister's working, the shudder stays small. If not...

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the keeper's cottage · night

Tide Creep

Kevin returns to the cottage as the water laps the lower pilings. Jenny is waiting inside with the evening water rations.

The air is heavy and humid, the flat sky darkening as cloud cover thickens over the dry season. The tide is steadily rising, water lapping at the third piling of the dock as evening approaches. Inside the cottage, the smell of drying sea beet and salt lingers while the rhythmic drip from the leaky shutter hits the floorboards.

🔧 Kevin10:12

Water's up to the third piling. Cleat's holding for now.

Walk onto the porch, wipe boots on the mat, step inside and set the crowbar by the door.

💭 thought

Tide's coming in faster than I'd like. Cleat held, but the mortise is still soft. Need to sister the landward stringer before the next spring tide or we lose the whole landward face.

🌿 Jenny10:15

Check the cleat tomorrow. Did you find anything dry in the crate?

Jenny lean back in the chair, rub the swollen ankle, reach for the tin of water on the table.

💭 thought

The tide is coming in faster than the charts predicted. My ankle is throbbing again.

🔧 Kevin10:15

Coffee. Corned beef — six tins. Half-inch rope, fifteen meters, dry. Rest's bait.

Pull out the chair opposite, sit heavy, reach for the tin mug and drink half in one go.

💭 thought

She's asking about the crate contents like I haven't already catalogued half of it in my head. Tin of coffee, six corned beef, that rope. Rest is salt-ruined.

🌿 Jenny10:17

We'll need that rope for the dock cleat anyway.

Jenny smile faintly, open the notebook, start a rough sketch of the sea cave clay's stability lines.

💭 thought

Six tins of beef. That's a week if the boat doesn't show.

🔧 Kevin10:19

Rope's earmarked for the dinghy stern spring first. Cleat can wait on the greenheart.

Set the mug down, pull the corned beef tins from the crate beside the stove, stack them on the shelf.

💭 thought

She's already planning the cleat repair in her head. Good. Means she's not thinking about the ankle, or the boat, or Tom.

🌿 Jenny10:20

If the dinghy goes, we're stranded regardless of the dock.

Jenny stop sketching, look at the stack of tins, tighten the wrap on her ankle.

💭 thought

He's always thinking about the boat while the island is eroding under our feet.

🔧 Kevin10:20

Stern spring's doubled already. New rope goes to the bow line — current one's chafing at the fairlead.

Slip a tin opener from the drawer, punch the first corned beef, slide the tin toward her.

💭 thought

She's right. Dinghy's the lifeline. Dock's just wood and iron.

🌿 Jenny10:21

The bow line is fine for now. The cleat is shifting.

Jenny take the fork, cut a small piece of the beef, watch the clouds thicken over the ridge.

💭 thought

He's right about the chafing, but the cleat is what's holding the whole structure together.

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What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A new project: dock repair (landward cleat sistering).

project_started · dawn

The rot in the landward dock pilings is deeper than estimated last week.

discovery · dawn

A fish run is moving through the shallows off the dock.

fish_run · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

A jellyfish bloom has drifted into the bay, pale and slow.

jellyfish · midday

Found: heavy tools.

item · midday

A heavy crate was wedged in the rocks near the dock

discovery · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "Exact state of the tin".

made · afternoon

Found: copper sheet.

item · afternoon

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea cave clay's stability lines".

made · night

The shortwave crackles with a voice, or static, at an odd hour.

radio_voice · night

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