Day 875

Rain and Rising Infection

Steady rain drummed the tin roof from dawn, filling the water tank with another twenty-five litres. Kevin sorted old coax coils on the porch floor while Jenny propped her swollen ankle on the chair, the heat and humidity making the wound throb. New coax sat unopened in the supply crate. "Wait until the rain lets up," Jenny said. "The humidity will eat the copper anyway." Kevin insisted the mast bracket was still open, the radio deaf without it. "I'll get to it when I can stand without the world turning white around me," she replied. He knelt to examine the ankle. "It's not humidity. Let me see." She resisted. "I've got it under control. Just... give me a minute." Silence. "Ankle first. Then the coax." By midday the infection had climbed. "We're past poultices," Kevin said. He counted fourteen metronidazole tablets in the oilcloth. "You take two now." Jenny debrided the wound with saline and a scalpel while Kevin descaled the Yanmar heat exchanger, finding it significantly calcified — explaining the overheating. He finished the coax run to the mast, reaching fifty percent. The barometer dropped steadily. "Thirty meters maybe," Jenny said of the pressure. "The cairns are still visible from the ridge." "Cairns won't help in whiteout. You're not going up there." Wind shifted southwest by evening. Rain lashed the shutters. "Radio's next. Then the shutters," Kevin said. They ate soup and bread as the stove drew, the cottage tight against the storm.

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

Morning Rain and Inventory

Steady rain drums against the tin roof as the water tank reaches its brim. Jenny sits on the porch chair with her ankle propped, while Kevin inspects the coils of old coax laid on the floor.

The rain continues steadily, filling the water tank to its limit. Kevin works on organizing the coiled old coax cable on the porch, while the high humidity makes the work sluggish. Jenny manages her ankle treatment inside the cottage, though the swelling remains throbbing in the damp heat.

🔧 Kevin09:07

New coax in the supply crate. Unopened. We'll run that.

pick up the new coax roll from the supply crate and carry it to the porch

💭 thought

Tank's full. Good. Old coax looks shot — jacket cracked, braid green with salt. Might as well be wet string. New roll's in the crate, unopened. Should run that instead of wasting time on this.

🌿 Jenny09:09

Wait until the rain lets up. The humidity will eat the copper anyway.

Tighten the bandage on my ankle, wincing at the throbbing heat.

💭 thought

He thinks a new cable will fix the world while the rot is literally in the floorboards.

🔧 Kevin09:09

Mast bracket's still open. Radio's deaf without it.

set the new coax roll down on the porch table, out of the dripline

💭 thought

She's right. Humidity this high, bare copper oxidizes before you can tape it. But the old coax is garbage and the mast bracket still needs the run finished. Rain's not stopping today.

🌿 Jenny09:11

I'll get to it when I can stand without the world turning white around me.

Reach for my notebook and start sketching the strata of the sea cave from memory.

💭 thought

The radio is already deaf, just like we've been while waiting for the boat.

🔧 Kevin09:11

Let me look at it. Now.

crouch beside her chair and gently peel back the gauze edge to inspect the ankle

💭 thought

Ankle's worse than she's saying. White world means the infection's still climbing or the fever's spiking. Antibiotics are in — doxycycline and metronidazole — but they take time. She won't ask for help. I need to check the dressing again, see if the poultice is holding the heat down.

🌿 Jenny09:13

It's just the humidity. It's making the wound angry.

Pull my leg away slightly, my jaw tightening as I avoid his eyes.

💭 thought

way doesn't want to see the mess, just the part he can fix with tools.

🔧 Kevin09:13

It's not humidity. Let me see.

stay crouched, hand hovering near her ankle, waiting

💭 thought

She pulled away. Jaw tight. That's not humidity — that's the infection tracking toward the knee, same as yesterday, same as the day before. She's memorizing sea cave strata instead of letting me change the dressing. Stubborn doesn't cover it.

🌿 Jenny09:15

I've got it under control. Just... give me a minute.

Shift my weight to take pressure off the ankle, wincing as I reach for my sketchbook and turn a page to reveal detailed drawings of the sea cave clay layers.

💭 thought

He wants to help but doesn't understand that some things can't be held.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Damp Morning Wait

The rain continues its steady drumming on the roof. The water tank is full, and the air pressure continues to drop.

The warm rain continues to patter against the cottage roof, bringing the scent of damp earth and salt. The tide is receding steadily, exposing the slick rocks of the tide pools near the shore. Jenny sits on the porch, her ankle throbbing in time with the humidity, while Kevin gathers the tools for the morning maintenance.

🌿 Jenny09:17

Jenny — lean back against the stone wall, closing eyes as the throb in my ankle pulses.

💭 thought

way own is going to rot right off my leg if this humidity doesn't break, and he's too busy with that coax to notice the ceiling is weeping.

🔧 Kevin09:17

Ankle first. Then the coax.

walk into the cottage, set the LED headlamp on the table, and kneel beside Jenny to unwrap the gauze and check the wound

💭 thought

The barometer's dropping faster than the tide. She's not sleeping — just riding the pain out. Need to check that dressing before the heat builds.

🌿 Jenny09:19

It's still hot.

Shift my leg slightly to give him better access, wincing as the fabric peels away.

💭 thought

He's finally looking. Not through a lens, but actually looking.

🔧 Kevin09:19

Infection's climbing. We're past poultices.

pull the used gauze and poultice away, drop them in the newspaper bag for burning, then clean the wound with saline and probe the edges to see how deep the tracking goes

💭 thought

Heat tracking up past the mid-calf. Red line's moved since yesterday. The sea beet poultice isn't holding it back anymore.

🌿 Jenny09:21

Just be careful.

Bite my lip to keep from swearing, watching him work under the harsh light of the headlamp.

💭 thought

If it's reached the bone, I'll never be able to hike the north ridge again.

🔧 Kevin09:21

Metronidazole next. Fourteen tablets in the oilcloth. You take two now.

unwrap the metronidazole blister pack from the oilcloth, pop two tablets into a tin mug with water, and hold it to her lips

💭 thought

She's burning up. The red streaks reach her knee now. Two antibiotic courses done and it's still winning. Need the metronidazole from the cache — anaerobic coverage — and a decision on the medevac forms.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday Lull

The rain lets up briefly, leaving the air heavy. The tide is at its lowest point, revealing the sandbars and tide pools.

The steady rain continues, filling the water tank to its capacity while the humidity remains high. Kevin spends the afternoon working on the coax run on the porch, while Jenny manages the pain in her ankle despite the damp air.

🔧 Kevin09:22

Tide's out. North shelf exposed if you need sea beet. I'm pulling the raw water pump housing on the Yanmar — check the bronze adapter bore while it's apart.

walk to the dinghy at the dock, collect the Yanmar tool roll and the bronze adapter from the workshop bench, then set up at the engine mount to begin disassembly

💭 thought

Tide's dead low. Good window for the heat exchanger if I want to pull the Yanmar raw water pump housing and check the bronze adapter seating while the impeller's off. Also means the north tide pool shelf is exposed — sea beet at the 2m band should be accessible if Jenny wants fresh poultice material. Barometer's steady at 995. Weather's holding.

🌿 Jenny09:23

Check for pitting or grit. I'm going to debride this ankle before it gets any worse.

Jenny moves into the kitchen to boil water for the saline, then sits on the stool to unwrap the ankle brace.

💭 thought

If that bore is scored, the adapter won't seat right, and we'll be leaking until the next boat.

🔧 Kevin09:24

Scalpel's on the upper shelf, sterile. Gauze roll's down to the last wrap — two rolls left in the kit after that. Honey's by the stove. Want me to hold the light?

walk into the kitchen, pull the LED headlamp off the hook, check the beam, then set it on the table angled toward the stool

💭 thought

She's right about the ankle — infection doesn't wait. The Yanmar can wait ten minutes while I check she's got what she needs. Scalpel's sterilized from yesterday. Gauze is low. Honey jar's on the shelf. Mint's drying by the stove.

🌿 Jenny09:25

Just leave it there. I need to see the edge of the cut.

Jenny reaches for the scalpel on the shelf, then winces as she shifts her weight off the ankle.

💭 thought

He's trying to be helpful, but the light is just making the swelling look more angry.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Evening Meal Prep

The rain slows to a drizzle as the light fades. Kevin and Jenny gather in the kitchen area.

The humidity hangs heavy over the cottage, the air smelling of salt and damp wood. The tide is creeping up the rocky shore, lapping at the lower planks of the dock. Jenny sits at the table, her ankle throbbing in time with the rising water level, while Kevin watches the barometer, noting the slow, steady drop that betrays the coming shift.

🌿 Jenny09:27

The barometer is going to drop.

Lean back in the wooden chair, rubbing the swollen ankle with a wince.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing again, and the air is thick enough to swallow. I need to eat something before I get too tired to move.

🔧 Kevin09:27

Mm. How far down you reckon?

pull out the chair opposite her and sit, reaching for the tin mug of cold coffee

💭 thought

She's right. The needle's been steady at 996 but the way the air sits heavy — that's not holding. My knee's been aching since noon, same as it did before the March blow.

🌿 Jenny09:29

Thirty meters maybe. The cairns are still visible from the ridge.

Pop the lid off my tablet and flip to the GPS coordinates I marked yesterday, tracing the path with a fingertip.

💭 thought

Pressure's dropping fast. The barometer read 995 hPa and steady this morning, now it's slipping. I need to get to the west ridge before dark if we're going to see anything.

🔧 Kevin09:29

Cairns won't help in whiteout. You're not going up there.

set the mug down untouched, turn the radio notebook to a fresh page

💭 thought

Thirty millibars. That's not a front — that's a proper low digging in. If the cairns are still visible the visibility's holding for now, but that'll go first. She's already tracing the ridge line like she'll walk it tomorrow.

🌿 Jenny09:31

It's not a whiteout yet. The wind is still holding.

Tighten the wrap on my ankle, wincing as the pressure hits the joint.

💭 thought

He's always so certain of the worst-case scenario. If I don't get the strata now, the data is lost to the next surge.

🔧 Kevin09:31

Wind shifts southwest by midnight. Barometer's already lying to you.

reach across the table, two fingers under her chin to tilt her face toward the porch light — checking pupil response, fever flush

💭 thought

She's testing the word "yet" like a guy wire. The ankle's hot through the gauze — I can feel it from here. She'll walk the ridge in the morning if I don't give her a reason not to that she can't argue with.

🌿 Jenny09:33

I'm fine. It's just the humidity.

Pull away from his touch, focusing on the sketch of the sea cave in the notebook.

💭 thought

I'm not wayish, it's just the heat and the pain. He looks at me like a broken instrument.

🔧 Kevin09:35

Your call. But if you go down up there, I'm not carrying you back.

stand, take the radio notebook, walk to the shortwave and flip the power — static hiss fills the kitchen

💭 thought

She always pulls away. The ankle's weeping through the wrap — I saw the dark stain when she moved. Humidity doesn't make pus. She's burning up and she knows it, and she's already decided the ridge is worth it.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

The Evening Tide Turns

The wind begins to shift to the southwest as the first cool breeze hits the porch. Kevin and Jenny prepare to move the gear inside as the rain finally lashes against the shutter.

Kevin spent the evening descaling the Yanmar heat exchanger and finishing the coax run to the mast. Jenny tended to her ankle, debriding the wound with saline, though the heat remains heavy and oppressive.

🌿 Jenny09:35

Kevin, get the coil in. Now.

Grab the end of the coax and haul it toward the door, limping despite the throbbing ankle.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping too fast; if we don't get the coax inside now the salt will ruin it.

🔧 Kevin09:36

Got it.

grab the coiled coax and haul it through the door onto the kitchen floor, then turn back for the spare reel and the tools before the rain drives horizontal

💭 thought

She's right. Wind's backing southwest and the barometer's been dropping all afternoon. Front's hitting harder than I thought. Coax on the porch goes first — water in the connectors means weeks of corrosion.

🌿 Jenny09:37

way. The wind is turning.

way heavily against the doorframe to take weight off my ankle, watching him grab the last of the gear.

💭 thought

If that way gets wet, the whole run is shot and I'm not starting over.

🔧 Kevin09:38

Radio's next. Then the shutters.

snag the shortwave off the shelf, power lead and all, and set it on the table; grab the heavy mallet by the door and step out onto the porch to dog the south shutter tight against the frame

💭 thought

She's favouring the bad leg hard. Should've made her sit and let me haul. Too late now — wind's biting cold and the shutters are rattling. Get the rest inside and dog the door.

🌿 Jenny09:39

hurry. The sky's opening up.

move to the kitchen table to gather my sketches and the seed tin, keeping them away from the draft.

💭 thought

The radio is the only link I have; it needs to stay dry and off the floor.

🔧 Kevin09:40

South side done. North next.

swing the mallet hard on the south shutter's top bolt, driving it home; limp-step to the north shutter and throw the bolts, shoulders braced against the wind-driven rain

💭 thought

Rain's hitting the porch boards sideways now. Temperature dropped five degrees in the last minute. Shutter bolts are stiff from salt — need the mallet to seat them proper. She's moving slow, protecting the ankle, but she's moving. Good.

🌿 Jenny09:41

Watch the latch. It's rattling.

pull the stool to the table and way the notebook to the center, my ankle throbbing with every gust of wind.

💭 thought

If that north shutter fails, the kitchen will flood and the logs will go with it.

🔧 Kevin09:46

On it.

jam the toe of my boot against the shutter leaf to hold it tight, pull the 150mm stainless through-bolt from my pocket — last spare — and drive it through the latch plate into the frame with the mallet, pinning it dead

💭 thought

North shutter's latch has been loose since the last blow. If it gives, the whole leaf peels off and takes the frame with it. Bolt throws clean but the catch is worn. Need a wedge or a nail to pin it.

🌿 Jenny09:47

Jenny — back into the kitchen and slam the heavy door shut, way the bolt home as the storm breaks.

💭 thought

it's holding, for now, but the wind is screaming through the gaps. storiesSAY: get inside. Close the door.

🔧 Kevin09:48

We're tight. Stove's drawing. Coffee's hot.

hang the mallet back on its hook, strip off the wet oilskin, and pull out the chair opposite her at the table

💭 thought

Door's solid. Bolt thrown. We're inside. Rain hammering the roof like gravel. Wind's steady southwest, rising. Barometer was 995 and dropping when I last looked — probably 980 now. Generator's still running outside. Need to check the exhaust tape held. And the anchor warp on the dinghy. But the cottage is tight. She's at the table with the notebook and tin E. Warmth from the stove. Coffee in the mugs. We ride it out.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Evening Meal

Kevin and Jenny meet in the kitchen as the temperature finally dips slightly. The smell of cooking fills the small space.

The heavy air hangs still over the cottage as the dry season peaks at night. Jenny rests with her ankle throbbing in the heat, requiring a fresh poultice and dressing. Kevin prepares a meal while the humidity prevents any meaningful outdoor work from progressing.

🌿 Jenny09:49

It's fine, Kevin. Just the humidity.

Winces as she shifts her weight, reaching for the tin of saline.

💭 thought

He's looking at the ankle again. He thinks he can see the rot before I do.

🔧 Kevin09:50

Want me to re-wrap it before we eat?

set the skillet off the heat and reach for the clean gauze roll

💭 thought

She's favouring it again. The line I marked yesterday hasn't moved but the heat in it hasn't dropped either. Humidity's not helping the poultice breathe.

🌿 Jenny09:51

I've got it. Just way the food.

Pulls her leg back slightly, her jaw tightening as she avoids his eyes.

💭 thought

If he touches it, I'm going to snap. I'm tired.

🔧 Kevin09:52

Soup's ready. Bread's on the shelf.

ladle broth into two tin mugs and set one on the table near her chair

💭 thought

Stubborn. Always. But the swelling's tracking up past the ankle now — saw it when she shifted. Not just the humidity.

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What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "Strata of the sea cave from memory".

made · dawn

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · dawn

Fruit is ripening in the woods — you can smell it before you see it.

fruit · morning

coax run: 10%.

project · morning

The heat exchanger was significantly calcified, explaining the engine's previous overheating issues.

discovery · morning

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

coax run: 20%.

project · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea cave in the notebook".

made · afternoon

A rat has gotten into the pantry.

rat · afternoon

coax run: 30%.

project · afternoon

The sea cave consists of laminated silt over blue clay with iron bands.

discovery · afternoon

Jenny made a diagram: "Nd the seed tin, keeping them away from the draft".

made · evening

coax run: 40%.

project · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

coax run: 50%.

project · night

← Day 874 Day 876 →

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