We were that close. Standing next to Fortuitous, having just found that the restrooms at our quite-closed marina had already been winterized, the bitter wind whipped through the yard at over 20kts. I was picturing the best way to orient the boat to tuck in a reef, but Jen was probably correct that the relentless chill on the water would have quickly grown intolerable. For the most part, I let her third veto stand. The weekend was far from a total loss though (nautically speaking), because I’d already been messing about on boats for the better part of the morning.

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This is not the last log entry of the season. The last log entry of the season will follow the last sail of the season, which hasn’t happened yet. Never mind that the marina is closed. Never mind that every day is colder than the last, or that the wind is like having bricks thrown at you, or that everything around me seems to be operating as if the gears were missing teeth. Gravity as my witness, I will make it down that boat ramp at least one more time.

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