On our way home, as we passed through Grays Reef, I snapped this image of the abandoned lighthouse. Something about this old structure gives me hope. When I ponder the troubles we face due to overpopulation, global warming, mass extinctions, I can get overwhelmed by it all. I love the metaphor presented in this scene. The top of the old light looks like a bird cage, yet now that it has been vacated by man, the birds have taken over. Free. Uncaged.

Day 6

After picking up friends in Little Current, we head northeast to the famous fjord Bay Fiene with the plan to anchor in a protected natural harbor called the Pool. A long narrow bay, Bay Fiene is lined on the north side by the White Granite mountains. And they are. White granite dotted with pines. As we anchor at sunset, we see two otters splashing about, fishing. Otters are usually rather shy, but these two seem accustomed to boats being here.

The next morning I’m up before dawn, all bundled up with a hot cup of tea, listening to them in the dark. Splash, crunch crunch devouring a fish. Splash some more. The sound echoes off the rock walls. Nature. Beautiful.

Day 4

Finally, a quiet anchorage where we can watch the sunset in solitude.

Day 5

We’ve found a snug little anchorage, tucked in a cove of Turnbull Island, a giant rock sprouting perfectly formed white pines. Similar smaller islands surround us, an archipelago, all dotted with pines and painted in brushstrokes of orange and yellow lichens.

The sun is still high in the sky, but we decide to take a dinghy ride around to explore. On the other side I find a beaver dam and plan to wait there at dusk to see if anyone is home.

Back at the boat, after lunch, as I’m lounging with a book, I hear a rustle in the bushes on the shoreline. I quickly grab the binoculars to see a raccoon making his way along on the edge of the water, moving between the rocks, fishing. Every once in a while a splash, then crunch-crunch-crunch of a fish being devoured. Raccoons are usually nocturnal, so I’m surprised a bit, but what a delight to witness.

At sunset, we head out as planned in the dinghy, only to find the beaver is already out and about. I don’t know who spots whom first, but soon enough, he dives under with a slap of this mighty tail and is gone.

A cold front moves in during the night, and we leave that spot in a gusty rain.