In a semi-awake state I noted the boat was rocking considerably, shifting my weight from side to side. I struggled to shirk the unwanted consciousness and keep sleeping. When the brightening light and continued rocking willed me out of bed, I saw the night’s calm had been replaced by boat wakes, their makers stop-starting to …
In the morning, after our best efforts to sleep through too many twilight boat wakes and the sound of a hard plastic mooring rapping on the hull, we went back to the town dock. Andrew paid for the night’s mooring. It actually did not belong to the town, as it turned out, but we had …
The row to the dock at Lunt’s Dockside Deli was long, we passed a surprising number of fellow transient sailboats in the harbor. The town of Frenchboro sits on either side of the shallow cove; steep hillsides provide good views even to houses far from the waterfront. A small school, church, post office, ferry landing, …
