We are again in familiar waters, with their familiar weather radio voices, tugboats, madronas, lean little swallows, cormorants, banana slugs and extremely bitter IPAs. We wake up and it's still dark out, summer must be slipping away; the sun looks all burnt up, red and angry against the morning fog. The music aboard is changing to an appropriate shoegaze, as if to match the sound of rustling of leaves and wind wailing through the shrouds.
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