Day 888

Dock Failure and Rising Infection

Dawn broke under heavy western rain as the tide fell, exposing the dock's barnacled pilings. Kevin inspected the Yanmar's vibration, then moved to the transom mount. The third plank from the seaward end was rotted through at the bracket. Bolts spun in soft wood. "Transom's soft. Bolts spinning in the wood. Bracket's working loose every cycle," he said. Jenny, soaking her swollen ankle in warm salt water on a crate, replied, "We'll have to sister the thing out or reinforce with a plate. It's not holding anymore." She retreated to the cottage as humidity thickened.

By morning the rain had slowed to drizzle. Kevin staged juniper sister planks and 150mm stainless through-bolts. "Doubler plates. Greenheart. Inside and out. Eight 150mm through-bolts. Last of the stainless," he said. Jenny watched from the porch, ankle throbbing, red streaks tracking up her calf despite two antibiotic courses. "The rot is deep, Kevin. We need to sister those pilings before the next tide shift, or the whole thing will shear off."

Midday: Kevin drove the final bolt on the forward piling, torqued to 35Nm. "Hand torque only. Quarter turn past seat. The wood'll settle into it." Jenny monitored the rising tide and barometer at 998 hPa, steady.

Rain returned hard by afternoon, driving them inside. They shared a tin of corned beef. "Eat anyway. Medicine needs something under it," Kevin said. Jenny managed a few bites. "okay. Just..."

Evening radio check yielded only static. Kevin would try Tom's frequency at dusk. The supply boat was due in six days, two-hour window at high tide. Jenny sketched red veins on her calf and rain on window glass. The pressure held, for now.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Low Tide Inspection and Maintenance

Heavy rain lashes the island as the tide recedes to expose the barn-covered pilings. Kevin inspects the Yanmar engine's vibration while Jenny sits on a crate, soaking her ankle in warm salt water.

The heavy western rain saturates the dock as the tide recedes, exposing a critical structural failure. Kevin inspects the transom mounting area and discovers a deep fissure and soft rot where the bracket bolts in. Jenny retreats to the cottage to manage her swelling ankle as the humidity makes outdoor work impossible.

🔧 Kevin05:06

Mast bracket bolts. Want eyes on them while the water's down.

Walk to the dinghy at the end of the dock, crouch at the transom, and inspect the mast bracket through-bolts and alignment with a 19mm wrench.

💭 thought

Vibration's worse at 1800 RPM. Prop shaft true, sleeve holding. Mast bracket's the only thing left — slight misalignment from the storm torque. Need to check the through-bolts while the tide's out and the hull's accessible.

🌿 Jenny05:07

Check the threads on the way out; the salt is eating the bronze alive.

Jenny dips her ankle deeper into the bucket, wincing as the salt hits the raw skin, and begins to sketch the rotted dock planks in her notebook.

💭 thought

If those bolts are stripped, the whole rig will own the first time we hit a gust off the channel.

🔧 Kevin05:11

Threads first. Then the bracket seat.

Pull the 19mm wrench, back off the four through-bolts on the mast bracket one by one, inspect threads for corrosion and galling, then check the bracket seating face against the transom for movement or cracking.

💭 thought

She's right. Bronze doesn't like this air. Check the threads, check the bracket, check the hull where it bites. Tide's giving us twenty minutes of dry bilge.

🌿 Jenny05:11

Watch for fraying in the wood. That area looks like a wet sponge.

Jenny stops sketching and stares at the grey water, noting the way the rot in the dock wood mirrors the decay in her own joints.

💭 thought

If the wood is soft, the bolts will just pull right out the moment we tension the sail.

🔧 Kevin05:17

Transom's soft. Bolts spinning in the wood. Bracket's working loose every cycle.

Pull all four through-bolts completely, probe the bolt holes with a nail set to gauge rot depth, then scrape the bracket seating face and transom contact area clean to assess the damage.

💭 thought

Wood's punky. Bracket's moving under load — hairline gaps at the forward corners. Salt's got the bolts too. Need to pull them, clean, epoxy bed, and re-torque. If the transom's gone soft, it's a scarf joint or a new transom. No time for half measures.

🌿 Jenny05:17

We'll have to sister the thing out or reinforce with a plate. It's not holding anymore.

Jenny pulls her leg from the bucket, the salt water splashing onto the deck, and watches Kevin probe the wood.

💭 thought

If the transom is mushy, the whole mast step is going to fail when the next storm hits.

🔧 Kevin05:18

Doubler plates. Greenheart. Inside and out. Eight 150mm through-bolts. Last of the stainless.

Retrieve the two greenheart offcuts from the supply crate, measure and mark for the transom width and bolt pattern, then drill clearance holes in both plates at the bench.

💭 thought

She's seen it. Transom's punky to thirty mil around each hole. Sistering won't bite — not enough sound wood. Need a doubler plate inside and out, through-bolted the full width. Greenheart offcuts in the crate. Two plates, eight bolts, epoxy bed. Half a day if the tide holds.

🌿 Jenny05:19

Make sure the edges are flush. I don't want any stress points on the wood.

way stands up slowly, her ankle throbbing in sharp rhythm with the rain, and moves toward the cottage to check the radio.

💭 thought

Greenheart is heavy, but it's the only thing that won't rot out next season.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Morning of Day 889

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as you meet inside to plan the dock repairs before the supply boat arrives.

The humidity is a physical weight, making the clothes cling to the skin as Kevin works. The tide is fully out, exposing the barnacle-slicked dock pilings where the rot has softened the wood. Jenny stays on the cottage porch, her ankle throbbing in time with the heavy air.

🌿 Jenny05:21

The rot is deep, Kevin. We need to sister those pilings before the next tide shift, or the whole thing will shear off.

rubs the throbbing ankle and sketches a quick diagram of the

💭 thought

If the dock goes, the dinghy goes, and I'm stuck here forever with a rotting ankle and a failing garden.

🔧 Kevin05:22

Juniper's staged. Bolt's at the east shutter. Need to drive the sister plank before the water covers the mortise — gives us about two hours on this tide. You stay put. I'll do the heavy work.

walk to the east shutter and retrieve the 150mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut, then carry it down to the dock

💭 thought

She's right. The forward piling's got maybe three sound inches left at the mudline. If we don't sister it with the juniper and that last 150mm bolt before the tide comes up, the dock walks away. Her ankle's tracking hot — I can see the red line past the knee from here. She shouldn't be putting weight on it, but she's here drawing diagrams instead of staying off it.

🌿 Jenny05:23

Make sure the pilot holes are clean; if the wood splits, the bolt won't hold the tension anyway.

watches him through the window, tracing the outline of the dock on her sketch with a shaky finger.

💭 thought

He thinks he can fix the world with a single bolt while the humidity eats everything else from the inside out.

🔧 Kevin05:27

Holes will be clean. You take the next dose now — both pills, full glass of water. I'll shout if I need a second pair of eyes.

climb down onto the exposed dock structure, auger in hand, and begin clearing the mortise for the sister piling, working the bit carefully through the greenheart to avoid splitting

💭 thought

She's not wrong about the pilot holes — greenheart's dense, juniper's brittle when it's this salt-cured. If I rush the drilling the grain splits and we lose the bite. But her hand's shaking on that sketch and she's pretending it's the cold. The red line on her calf crossed the knee two poultices ago. She needs the antibiotics in her, not a diagram.

🌿 Jenny05:27

I'm taking them. Just watch the grain—the wood is much softer than it looks near the waterline.

swallows the pills with a grimace and leans back against the counter, watching him work through the glass.

💭 thought

He's always giving orders when the pressure gets high, like a pill schedule will stop the rot.

🔧 Kevin05:29

The grain's running diagonal here - I'll need to ream the hole slightly to match the wood's direction, not force it straight.

set down the auger and run my palm along the exposed piling grain, feeling for the soft sections where rot has hollowed out the wood, then mark the pilot hole angle with a chalk line

💭 thought

She took them. Good. The infection's still tracking up her leg but maybe the doxycycline's bought us time. Her voice is steadier now that the pills are down. I can see the grain on the dock piling from up here - it's not just soft wood, it's rot eating through the cambium layer. The juniper sister needs to go in clean, true, before the tide shifts again.

🌿 Jenny05:31

Good. The wood is basically waterlogged down there, don't give it too much torque.

shifts her weight off the swollen ankle, watching the throbbing pulse in time with the rain.

💭 thought

If he misses the angle, the whole dock will shear the first time a swell hits it.

🔧 Kevin05:31

Hand torque only. Quarter turn past seat. The wood'll settle into it.

switch to the 19mm socket and torque wrench, set it to minimum click, and begin threading the 150mm stainless through-bolt through the pre-drilled sister joint, feeling for resistance with each turn

💭 thought

She's watching the pulse in her ankle like it's a tide gauge. The wood's waterlogged alright - my thumb sinks half an inch at the mudline. Too much torque on the bolt and the juniper crushes, the greenheart splits, and we've got nothing holding the dock. Need to hand-tighten the nyloc, then give it just a quarter turn past snug. Let the wood compress slow.

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the dock · midday

Sistering the forward pilings

Kevin prepares to drive the sister plank into place before the tide begins to turn back.

Kevin secured the juniper sister plank to the forward dock piling with the final 150mm stainless through-bolt, torqued to 35Nm. Jenny monitored the rising tide and her worsening ankle infection while the barometer held steady at 998 hPa.

🔧 Kevin05:32

Kevin — walk to east shutter, retrieve 150mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut, carry to dock, position juniper sister plank against forward piling, drive home with mallet, drill through-bolt hole through sister and piling, insert b

💭 thought

Tide's still giving me time. Need to get this juniper driven home and the last through-bolt through before the water comes back over the rot line. Bolt's staged at the east shutter. Jenny's ankle heat was tracking past the poultice margin this morning — if the antibiotics don't catch by tonight I'll need to debride again. Can't think about that now. Wood first.

🌿 Jenny05:33

The tide is coming back fast, Kevin. Don't rush it.

Watch him from the porch, clutching my throbbing ankle while the air thickens.

💭 thought

If that bolt doesn't hold, the whole jetty will shear in the next swell and we'll lose the dinghy.

🔧 Kevin05:34

Got it. Two minutes.

brace drill steady, finish boring through-bolt hole through juniper sister and into sound piling timber, blow chips clear, drive 150mm stainless through-bolt through with washers both sides, thread nyloc nut, torque to 35Nm

💭 thought

She's right. Water's already licking the lower bolt hole. If I rush the drill I'll snap the bit or wallow the hole in this punk wood. But if I don't get the bolt home before the tide covers the joint, the sister won't set tight. Two more minutes on the drill. Then drive the bolt. Then it's done.

🌿 Jenny05:35

35Nm - that's what the torque wrench says?

💭 thought

Good. He's actually doing it right this time.

🔧 Kevin05:36

Set. Watch the nut.

fit 19mm socket on torque wrench, turn nyloc nut until wrench clicks at 35Nm, check bolt alignment, wipe salt sweat from eyes

💭 thought

She's tracking the numbers. Good. Means her head's clear enough to watch the details I might miss. Torque wrench is set. Bolt's through. Just needs the final turn.

🌿 Jenny05:37

Let's hope it holds when the boat comes in.

way against the cottage posts, watching the water start to lick the pilings.

💭 thought

At least one thing is solid today, even if the wood is mostly mush.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Evening assessment and supply boat watch

Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage porch as daylight thins. The Yanmar test is done, the dock repair complete. Jenny's ankle is freshly dressed but the red streaks remain. The supply boat is due in 6 days. The barometer reads 998 hPa, steady. A flat sky, cloud cover thickening. They share a tin of corned beef and watch the tide turn.

Heavy rain lashes in from the west, forcing both indoors at the cottage. Kevin and Jenny wait out the storm, watching the water turn the garden paths into slick, while Jenny's ankle infection throbs in the rising humidity and damp air.

🌿 Jenny05:39

The pressure isn't dropping, Kevin.

sit on the porch steps, prop the ankle up on a crate, and sketch the pattern of the red veins on the calf.

💭 thought

The heat is moving toward my knee; if that boat doesn't come with the heavy antibiotics, I'm going to lose the leg.

🔧 Kevin05:41

Holding. For now.

sit on the porch step beside her, pull the tin of corned beef from my pocket, pry the lid with the church key, and hold it out

💭 thought

She's right about the barometer. Steady at 998 means the front's holding offshore for now. But she's tracing those red lines like they're contour intervals on a chart — mapping the advance. Six days until the boat. Four doses of metronidazole gone. Two of doxycycline left. The math doesn't comfort me.

🌿 Jenny05:41

I'm not hungry yet.

take the tin with a shaking hand and stare at the rain starting to hit the stone.

💭 thought

He's trying to fix everything with a tin of salt while my skin turns to fever.

🔧 Kevin05:42

Eat anyway. Medicine needs something under it.

set the tin on the step between us, pull the wool blanket from the porch rail, and drape it over her shoulders

💭 thought

Hand's shaking. Could be the fever. Could be the antibiotics tearing through her gut. Could be the weight of six days stretching out with that red line creeping toward her knee. I've seen sepsis take a man in forty-eight hours on a ship with a doctor and a radio that worked. Here there's me, a tin of corned beef, and a barometer that won't drop.

🌿 Jenny05:43

okay.

wrap the blanket tighter against the shivering, take a small bite of the meat, and watch the first drops of rain wash the dust off the porch.

💭 thought

He thinks food and a blanket will stop the infection from reaching the bone.

🔧 Kevin05:44

Barometer's steady. Boat's on schedule. Six days.

lean back against the porch post, watch the rain sheet across the garden, and listen to the shortwave chatter static in the kitchen

💭 thought

She's cold in twenty-eight degree air. That's the fever talking. The blanket's thin but it's dry and that matters. Six days. The supply boat captain said high tide, two-hour window. If the barometer holds, the sea state'll be manageable for the crane. If it doesn't — I've got the ditch bag packed. Letter to Tom. Seed tin E. Notebook. Spare impeller. Medevac forms signed. We go when the boat comes, or we don't go at all.

🌿 Jenny05:45

I hope the boat is early.

swallow the salty meat, feel the throb pulse in the ankle, and look at the half-cleared garden in the dark.

💭 thought

Six days is a long time for a fever to travel up a leg.

🔧 Kevin05:46

Captain said high tide. Six days. Two hour window.

reach into my jacket pocket, pull out the folded letter to Tom, turn it over once in my fingers, then tuck it back unopened

💭 thought

Early. She means before the six days. Before the red line reaches the joint. Before the fever spikes and the shaking turns to rigors. I hope for the same thing. But hope's not a navigation tool. The captain gave me a window. High tide in six days. Two hours. The Yanmar runs clean. The dinghy's rigged with double stern springs and a storm anchor. The dock holds — for now. Everything else is weather.

🌿 Jenny05:47

Two hours is usually enough.

lean my head back against the cold stone, close my eyes, and try to ignore the heat spreading in my calf.

💭 thought

He doesn't want to see what I'm writing to him.

🔧 Kevin05:48

Usually.

stand, walk to the kitchen doorway, and check the shortwave — gain at maximum, squelch open, nothing but atmospheric noise

💭 thought

Usually. On a calm day with a sound dock and a crane operator who knows the tide. Here the crane's thirty years old, the dock's held together with epoxy and prayer, and the swell wraps around the point even on good days. Two hours is the window. One hour to offload supplies, load us, and clear the finger pier before the ebb sets. If the rot in the landward stringer lets go under the crane's weight — I should've sistered that one too. Didn't have the bolts.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Waiting out the deluge

The rain continues to drum against the roof as the afternoon fills with the smell of wet earth. You sit together in the gloom, waiting for the storm to break.

The heavy rain lashes down from the west, making any outdoor work slick and nearly impossible. Kevin stays inside to monitor the radio for any supply boat updates, while Jenny manages her swelling ankle in the cottage. The humidity is stifling, preventing any progress on wound-related projects.

🔧 Kevin05:48

Radio check at eighteen hundred. If the boat's not answering, we run the ditch bag protocol.

Check the shortwave gain and scan 2182, 4125, 6215 for any traffic.

💭 thought

The radio's been quiet too long. Not even static on Tom's frequency. Jenny's ankle heat hasn't broken in three days of antibiotics — if the streaks hit femoral, we're past what poultices and pills can touch. Barometer's still falling.

🌿 Jenny05:51

I'll check the frequencies. Just need to move my leg.

rub the swollen skin around the ankle and wince as the fabric brushes against the infection.

💭 thought

He thinks a protocol will save us, but the rot is already under our feet.

🔧 Kevin05:51

Don't. I'll run the scan. You keep the leg up.

Cross to the radio shelf, switch on the shortwave, and work the gain through 2182, 4125, 6215 while she stays put.

💭 thought

She's trying to normalize it. The wince she won't let become a sound. Three days of doxy and metro and the heat's still tracking — I can see the red line creeping past the old marker from this distance.

🌿 Jenny05:53

Fine.

prop my ankle up on a chair and reach for my sketchbook to draw the way the rain streaks the window glass.

💭 thought

He's so sure of the radio, but the island is eating the cottage.

🔧 Kevin05:53

(nothing — just the knob turning, the speaker hissing)

Dial through the frequencies slow, logging each dead channel in the radio notebook. 2182: static. 4125: static. 6215: a faint Spanish coastal forecast, barely readable. Note the time and signal strength.

💭 thought

She draws what she can't say. The sketchbook's become her record of what the island takes — first the garden, now her. I should've evacuated her at the first streak. Pride and the barometer both lied.

🌿 Jenny05:55

Jenny — press the pencil to the paper and sketch the jagged line of a raind hitting the pane.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come, those seeds will just rot in the mud anyway.

🔧 Kevin05:55

Nothing on the sched. Boat's not calling. I'll try Tom's frequency at dusk — sometimes the skip comes in different.

Log the dead check in the radio notebook. Set the shortwave to Tom's old working frequency (3885) and leave it monitoring, squelch open. Pour two mugs of the last decent coffee. Set one beside her sketchbook.

💭 thought

The Spanish forecast means propagation's alive — just nobody talking to us. Supply boat's six days out if it comes. Her ankle decides whether six days matters.

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the keeper's cottage · night

NIGHT

The rain continues to pour as night falls, turning the world outside into shadows. You huddle together inside, waiting for the storm to break.

The heavy humid air sits motionless over the cottage as the pressure continues to drop. Jenny rests her throbbing ankle while the heat lingers in the room, and Kevin monitors the barometer for signs of the approaching storm.

🔧 Kevin05:56

Radio's quiet. You want the last of the corned beef?

Check the barometer again, then stir the fire to keep the cottage warm through the night.

💭 thought

The rain's rhythm on the roof has been steady for hours. Barometer's still falling — 994 and dropping. This isn't breaking tonight. Jenny's ankle heat radiates through the blanket between us. Three antibiotic doses left between doxycycline and metronidazole. If the supply boat doesn't make it in six days... I should've radioed the medevac forms yesterday. Pride or stubbornness, same thing.

🌿 Jenny05:57

I'm not hungry. way... tired.

Lean back, wincing as the ankle shifts, and watch the firelight.

💭 thought

He thinks food is the answer to everything, like calories can fix the rot in the wood or my leg.

🔧 Kevin05:58

Need something in you before the next dose. Broth at least.

Ladle hot limpet broth into a tin mug, blow across the rim to cool it, and hold it out to her.

💭 thought

She's burning through reserves fighting this infection. The wince tells me the swelling's pressing the wrap. Antibiotics are fourteen hours apart — last dose was 0600. Next at 2000. Two hours. She needs calories before then.

🌿 Jenny05:59

okay. Just...

Take the mug with both hands and take a small, slow sip.

💭 thought

It's always something with him. I just want the throbbing to stop for once.

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What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.

dolphins · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Rotted dock planks in her notebook".

made · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Nd stares at the grey water, noting the way the rot in the dock wood mirrors the".

made · dawn

The transom third plank from the seaward end is rotted through at the bracket mount.

discovery · dawn

Jenny made a diagram: "The".

made · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "With a shaky finger".

made · morning

Found: jper plank.

item · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

A new project: Dock forward piling sistering.

project_started · midday

Ankle infection heat is tracking up the calf — systemic spread despite two antibiotic courses

discovery · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "Pattern of the red veins on the calf".

made · afternoon

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · afternoon

Jenny made a sketch: "Way the rain streaks the window glass".

made · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

← Day 887 Day 889 →

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