#table bluff lighthouse

[dailylighthouse]

Table Bluff Lighthouse

Source: United States Coast Guard | Wikimedia Commons

Constructed: 1892

Automated: 1953

Decommissioned: 1971

Have a favorite lighthouse? Curious about lighthouses in general? Send an ask!

[flame-of-tar-valon]

End-of-Year Special 10: Beaconhill Lighthouse

Vivimani hummed to himself as he set the finishing touches on the meal presentation. It wouldn’t win the Dellemont d’Or, but it looked tasty enough by Vivimani’s standards. He just hoped his message would be enticing enough to convince his honored guest to follow him here. (It seemed a tall order — Beaconhill sat on a tall rocky bluff, its tunnels and battlements fitted with enough stairs to put Sasamo’s penance to shame.)

Vivimani needn't have worried, though: barely a quarter bell passed before he spied her on the ascent below. Good. She had guards, of course, but the builders of Beaconhill had made the doors Lalafell-sized, which would at least mitigate the size of the entourage she would bring.

Dewlala Dewla entered the tower alone, her guards positioned outside so that she and Vivimani could speak in confidence. Vivimani welcomed her with a deep courtesy, a warm smile on his face. “Might I say it’s a delight to see you so well, despite the… terrible damage the Sacrarium has suffered,” he greeted her as he showed her to the table. “That her Prioress should nevertheless be graced with a seat on the Syndicate truly speaks to Nald’s great blessings.” She did look well; she was not at all winded from the climb as far as he could ascertain.

Dewlala spent the next several seconds studying Vivimani’s face; finding nothing blatant to take umbrage to, she eventually spoke, keeping her voice carefully neutral. “It is the privilege of the Order of Nald’thal to counsel the Royal House of Ul. It is this duty that we place before all else.” She did her best to suppress a grimace. She must know she sounded defensive. And for what? She was the head of the city’s religious affairs, justifying herself to a mere adventurer after meeting him outside the city — at his invitation, no less. Oh, that must sting.

Dewlala’s eyes narrowed. The urge to smirk at her suspicion bubbled under Vivimani’s skin. Still, he pushed it down. In order for the veiled subtext of his speech to truly rattle Dewlala, she'd have to sift it out from Vivimani's affected piety herself: “How curious that the Sacrarium lies in ruins, yet its Prioress has the funds to purchase a seat on the Syndicate. I wonder if this ‘miracle’ holds up to more secular forms of bookkeeping?”

The table was set with a modest Thanalan dinner: roasted nopales, a spicy tuco-tuco loaf set on flatbread, and a couple meat miq'abobs, with a chilled pitcher of spiced Sil’dihn tea to accompany the food. Vivimani was curious to see if she would take any of it. She had no way of knowing if it were poisoned. 

(It wasn’t, at least by Lalafell standards; Vivimani never bothered to learn what ingredients were poisonous to the other humanfolk, but he vaguely recalled tavern chatter about tuco-tuco meat on the menu.)

Taking a bite from his own miq’abob, Vivimani took pity on Dewlala. “It is a precarious position you hold. The Sultana’s seat grows weaker by the day, and your colleagues on the Syndicate circle like vultures. But the fact that you showed up to dine with me today tells me three things with absolute certainty.” He leaned in, tugging ever-so-slightly on the mana housed within Heartstrike, and dimmed the lights in the room. The effect was almost imperceptible — enough to make Dewlala more pliable under the tension, but not enough for her to realize he’d done anything. 

“Firstly, that your council is fractured. You serve the city, just as you serve the Traders. And that means when you heard about the missing crown, you had to act.” Dewlala’s grip tightened on her scepter. There was no surprise in her eyes when Vivimani mentioned the crown. There should have been — only a handful of people were supposed to know about it at this point — but instead of confused or shocked, she looked grim. But she didn’t speak, which Vivimani took as tacit permission to continue his monologue. 

“I have neither the means nor motive to cause any significant harm, to you or to the Sultanate,” he said, which walked a tightrope between truth and lie so fine that Vivimani himself wouldn’t be willing to gamble which it was. “I can but assume that you have your informants, which is more than I can say for myself, as I have but my guildmates at my disposal — and that, only assuming their loyalty doesn’t waver.” He was downplaying his connections, and Dewlala knew this — as Prioress, she would know what had been going on in the Thaumaturge’s Guild. So, although he didn’t spell it out, Dewlala heard his second conclusion: that Vivimani could trace her network back as far as he needed to — as far back as the Immortal Flames, perhaps.

“Most importantly,” he said, moving in for the kill, “despite all the ways I may be a danger to you, your career, or even your bloodline… you believe that the best odds for keeping the city afloat in these trying times rely on a partnership with me. You don’t know me well — you don’t know my price, my morals, my past — which is a comfort in some ways and a danger in others. It’s hard, in a city as cutthroat as ours, to find someone without skeletons in their closet. But there’s something to be said for the devil one knows being more reliable than a stranger.”

Dewlala flushed with indignation and opened her mouth to speak —

Vivimani bowed. Deeply. Face to the ground. “By the most sacred name of Nald’thal, I, Vivimani Qiqimani, hereby pledge my lifeblood to the service of the Order and to the Sacrarium, ‘till gold erodes to dust and ‘till flesh burns away to ash. So do I swear.” Then, drawing on the magic of the dagger again — Mormo clamored to be let out, but Vivimani kept a firm grip on the leash — Vivimani summoned a flame, just a candle’s worth, and stretched out his hand to let it mark him. Dewlala stared. He held onto it, just until he had to hiss from the pain, then let it vanish.

“You don’t know if you can trust me. I understand that. There’s a lot of my own past I can’t recall. But while I’m here… I’m going to do what I can.” Until I choose not to, at least. 

That was the thing about piety. It was very meaningful to a lot of people. It was also, essentially, theatre. If a burn scar on his hand was all it took to convince a member of the Syndicate that he was trustworthy, Vivimani would make that sacrifice a thousand times over. There were far worse ways of getting friends in such high places.

Still, a part of him — deep down, buried underneath all his anxieties about Mumuepo, underneath his guilt about the Qarn mission, even underneath his last words to his parents — a part of him really hoped the day would never come where he would have to brazenly betray an oath sworn to Nald’thal. Nor to any of the Twelve.

* * *

The meal Vivimani prepared consists of roasted nopales, a tuco-tuco mole loaf, meat miq'abobs, and mulled tea. It was difficult to come up with an authentic traditional Ul'dahn meal, but I think this is ok.

Fun fact: Dewlala uses Plainsfolk model and naming conventions, but it doesn't make sense for her not to be Dunesfolk — even the Encyclopedia Eorzea says that she is canonically Dunesfolk! So I'm giving her their poison resistance (if not extending it to all Lalafell just because I can).

Join me tomorrow for the grand finale of this preview series, to see what happens when Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani all find their paths converging...

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Chapter One of a PotC Fic?

It's short, sweet, and sets up some things. It's also unedited. I just wanna get a couple reactions before I continue.

Working title is Scourge of Poseidon.

It begins with a dream. Filled to bursting with wonderful colors, swirling skirts and swishing petty coats. He finds himself along a coastal shoreline near midday, a bay below the cliff and a lighthouse atop it. He is close enough to see clearly a bride and groom in the midst of their ceremony, but not so close as to identify their countenance. 

Then suddenly he is sitting ‘round a table, watching on as the groom dances with his mother and the bride dances with her father. The boy’s a spitting image of his mother, with mousy blonde hair tied back against the nape of his neck. The girls’ fine curls are done up in a crown and her father thumps along the cliff, his long, gray hair adorned with a wide brimmed hat topped by a large, garish feather.

And with a crash of thunder, the sky is dark, the wedding guests flee, and up the path from the lighthouse comes Davy Jones. The menacing man with a cephalopod head has his gaze set upon Elizabeth, dressing her for revenge. 

He draws his sword, rushing to intercept the madman before he can reach his family. Henry grabs Carina and drags her with him, towards him. Elizabeth tries to surge past him, but she is unarmed and he forces her back with a stiff arm. 

Then, with a flash of lighting, pain radiates from his chest. Thunder rolls and with it the pain, ripping through his torso. He forces himself to glance at his chest. His sword is embedded in it. Only once he’s fallen to his knee’s does he realize that Elizabeth is screaming his name. Begging him not to leave her. She cradles him against her bosom,so careful of the sword stuck in him like a pin cushion. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot force his mouth to form words. He cannot reassure his wailing wife or blubbering son that everything will (not) be alright. 

Jones laughs, and the laugh morphs with the rain. It comes harder, and the voice grows higher, with a rasp and a deep accent Will wishes he didn’t recognize. 

“A touch… a destiny!”

There’s a bang from the other room, and William Turner shoots up in bed with a startled yelp. 

“Will? Good Heavens, are you alright?” 

His hand is at his heart instinctively. He presses his palm flat against his chest, slowing his panting so he can feel the pulse in his palm. His fingers brush the scar carved to remove the blasted organ in the first place over twenty years ago. Though it’s healed, it will always remain, a reminder of the debt owed his ship. The Flying Dutchman. 

Although, perhaps, it was a debt owed to it’s creator, the blasted goddess Calypso. It was her curse upon Davy Jones that, through a series of highly complex and rather laborious events, saved his life.

The shiver down his spine, whether from his thoughts or the morning chill, snaps him from those thoughts. He stood, and his nightclothes hung loose on his frame. The door to their room opened with a creak (one he reminded himself once more to fix) and his wife, Elizabeth, stepped inside. “Are you alright? You’ve slept awfully late?” 

Will stretches, then yawns, glancing out the window. The sun has risen near fully over the bluff. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Elizabeth’s brow furrows “You didn’t budge when I tried. I figured I’d leave you to it.” His wife, the Pirate King of the Brethren Court, was a marvelous woman. She was beautiful, with hair that darkened as she aged and a strong face and piercing eyes. Piercing eyes that helped her hold the air of a pirate, a frighteningly good one at that. She was Pirate King for a reason, after all. And while that reason had been self serving on the behalf of Captain Jack Sparrow, pirate lord of the Caribbean, she had more than proven her metal, lead men in to battles and won. 

As the poor, unfortunate soul who oft’ cleaned ship in the wake of these battles, he was keenly aware of her prowess with a cutlass and flintlock. 

“Are they awake?” He queries, slipping a black long coat around his shoulders. Elizabeth opened the door, allowing him to peer out on the two youngins around the table. 

“No, no,” a feminine voice scolded, “That’s not how you say it. It’s en vee-no veritas, not vine-o.”

Henry scoffs, a smile crossing his face “It’s not my fault!”

“Wha… of course it is! You were the one who wouldn’t sit still when your mother tried to teach you!”

“Well then, it’s her fault for teaching in such a boring manner.”

“I whole heartedly object to your classification of my teaching abilities!” Elizabeth slips past him, taking his hand and pulling him forward into their quant kitchen. Everything was hand made, done by the finest craftsmen on the seas, tribute to their king and prince. He remembers visibly the first time she actually go to show him this tribute. She’d never been able to do it justice with those tiny pictures in whiskey bottles. 

“Would you have rather your father taught you latin?”

“Seeing as he taught you to sword fight, yes.” Henry ribs, glancing at his father with eyes, glittering with joyous tears. 

Will chuckles, stepping out to join them, but his heart aches near as much as when it’d been run through. He’d longed to teach Henry to fight with a sword, one he’d make the boy of the finest metals and with all the love that filled his heart. Perhaps to match one he’d made for his mother and himself. Instead, he’d been chained to a ghastly ghost ship, his heart cut out to lead these dead men on Fiddler’s Green or the Locker. Not even he knew where they’d go, but after two decades, he’d gotten a knack for guessing. 

“There’s bacon on the stove, and I can make more toast if you’d like,” Carina stood, taking a plate from the head of the table. 

“That would be lovely” Will glances at Elizabeth, smiling brigher than the sun. 

“Carina was up even before me.” She reveals with a shrug. 

“I couldn’t sleep!” The girl calls, setting the plate before Will.

“Thank you, but I can’t imagine why,” he glances at Elizabeth, who smirks. 

“Neither can I… unless the wind against your bedroom window has become bothersome again…”

“Mother! You know well as I you could hardly sleep last night!” Henry scolds. 

Her smile falls into a more intrigued look, her arms crossed. “And as I said, I do wonder why?”

Will smiles “I barely slept on the eve of our wedding”

“The first or the second?”

“Honestly?” Will discards his silverware and leans back in his chair, “both”. 

“Well, ours is on land, for starters,” Carina sets a plate of toast on the table. All four pieces are grabbed up, one per person. Henry draws Carina’s chair back as Elizabeth sits to Will’s left and Henry at the tables foot. “And there’s no government officials present.”

“Yes, they were terrible company” Elizabeth glances at Will, now midbite, who manages a nod and affirmative grunt. 

Carina offers a little humph “And no pirates.” Elizabeth feigns offense, to which Carina quickly adds “Except the respectable ones.” 

“I would hope I’m more than just respectable,” Elizabeth teases, rising to her full height and placing her hands on her hips. She declares with a delighted smile “I am their king after all.”

“And what was all this about not having politicians at our wedding?” Henry goads with a smile. 

Will answers smoothly “The pirate king is neither a politician nor a pirate. She is your mother.” 

Carina glances out the window, then hurriedly clears the table as she declares “Well, look at the time. We’d better get going. Don’t want to be late to our own wedding now, do we?”

“I suppose…” Henry gasps when Carina splashes water from the pail against his back. Giggling, she makes a break for the stairs, and Henry follows close behind with a murmured “get back here!”

Elizabeth chuckles, settling into her seat for just a moment more. She’d really rather wear trousers to the wedding, but of course, there was proper societable company coming, so she must at least present a front of normalcy, just as she’d done in the years of Will’s absence. Of course, there were rumors, a while mill of them. People murmured when she’d first settled in the lighthouse, purchased from what funds she’d salvaged from her father’s accounts and assets left unassailed by Cutler Beckett. And then she’d brought many a strange man to Port Royal, pirates by trade, craftsmen by necessity. They’d furnished her little light house, just in time for her to welcome her little prince, Henry William. The boy, no, man, who was to be wed that day. 

She is roused from her thoughts by the distinct shing of a blade being withdrawn from it’s scabbard. She glances towards the door, where Will stands, his sword glinting in the candle and morning light. 

The sword he’d drawn from it’s rack was the one he had originally crafted for then Commodore Norrington, folded steal, a handle enlain with gold filigree, and a tang near the full length of the blade. It was the same one he turned in with his commission, which Cutler Beckett took and presented the then Admiral. And Davy Jones took the damn thing and used it to run her beloved husband through. And the blasted Jack Sparrow had wrapped her Will’s hand round his broken sword and released it, felling the fowl heart of the devil. 

Pirates, Jack Sparrow, most of all, had stolen so much from her. But what they’d taken, they’d given in equal measure.��

She watches Will, first examine the blade, then running his thumb against it’s edge. It’s a simple test of sharpness. He then replaces the sword in it’s scabbard, and he brings it with him as he retreats to their bedroom. It alarms her, though she’s not quiet sure why, and she follows, calling after him. 

“Yes?”

“Why do you need that?” 

Will sets the sword on their bed, turning to her head on. The years had treated her well. Despite the darkening of her hair and a few wrinkles, she still looks the same as his last landfall. The years have caught up with him now that he is free. His hair is still dark, black in most lights, with crows feet at his eyes and a more or less permanent furrow in his brow. The same as Elizabeth’s. 

“I figure, what, with it being a wedding, some propriety might be in order.” 

He smiles. And when he smiles, there are lines on his cheeks, racing across his dimples. And even if he hates to admit it, there is a gray streak in that mop of hair, kept carefully hidden against his scalp. 

Elizabeth smiles, and those same smile lines are there. Beautiful, just as she is. She dawdles up to him, leaning against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, arms still toned from years on the sea, strong arms that she still longs for. Twenty one years is far to long to be away from the love of your life. Far to long to keep their child holding out hope that his father will return. Far to long to excuse a missed visit because his father had been overtaken by his curse. 

“You’re scared something’s going to happen at the wedding?”

A chill runs through his chest. Of course he is. His dream is still in the forefront of his mind. No, it won’t be Davy Jones, who he’d cast to his own locker (with help from Jack), but it would be someone. He’s sure of it. 

Calypso’s words still ring around his head. “A touch… a touch… a touch!” 

“Will?”

He sighs, opening his eyes. Elizabeth is right there, finally right there. Solid, against his chest. He can hold her, and he sighs, relieved. Even more than a year on. “I’m sure you remember our own wedding.” 

Elizabeth chuckles. “How could I forget?”

“It’s just in case.” He assures. 

“You won’t need it.” She whispers. 

“It’s just in case.” He assures. 

He’s more or less reassuring himself. 

Just in case. 

Just in case.

[pharology101]

LOTD: Table Bluff (relocated)

(from: http://www.ibiblio.org/lighthouse/ca.htm)

Table Bluff (relocated to Woodley Island)

1892. Inactive since 1961 (a decorative white light is displayed). 35 ft (10.5 m) square cylindrical wood tower, painted white with black trim; lantern and gallery painted black. The original 4th order Fresnel lens (1856; transferred from Humboldt Harbor Light) was sent to the Old Point Loma Light in San Diego in 1953, but it has been retrieved for display at the Humboldt Bay Maritime Museum. ßerenice Calderón-García has a 2018 photo, Keith Whitfield has a 2008 photo, English also has a photo, Marinas.com has aerial photos, and Google has a street view and a satellite view. The keeper's house, formerly attached, was demolished in 1953. The original lighthouse was a sibling of the Ballast Point Light in San Diego, which is also demolished. Originally located on the South Spit near the entrance to Humboldt Bay, the tower was relocated in 1987 to the end of Startare Drive on Woodley Island in Arcata Bay, just off the Samoa Bridge on CA 255 in Eureka. Site open, tower closed. Owner: Humboldt Bay Harbor, Recreation and Conservation District. Site manager: Woodley Island Marina. . ARLHS USA-832.

(full photo found here; ©Robert English)

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

The Light Up On The Hill - Sterek Lighthouse AU

Derek is a lighthouse keeper who’s content with his isolation, but when a young man washes up on the shore with amnesia Derek realises he’s been missing out on everything.

ONE

The churning sea lashed at the shore, foaming white caps crashing against the cliff face as the waves broke over the rocky bluffs. The sky was blacked out by the raging storm clouds, forks of lightning splitting the sky and roaring thunder rolling through the night. Heavy rain lashed at the old brown bricks of the lighthouse that stood on the top of the rise, overlooking the raging black sea.

The spinning light swept through the darkness, lighting the rough waves and the shoreline.

Derek sat back in his chair, watching as rivulets of water trailed down the windows, lit by the passing light of the rotating light. Beside him, on the table in the corner of the open space, sat a cup of coffee, a pair of old binoculars that he used to survey the coast, and an old radio that was tuned into the frequency that the passing ships contacted him on, but there was only static.

This was the life he’d signed up for: the sea salt covered stone walls, the old metal staircase that wound its way around the walls from the bottom floor to the top of the lighthouse, the layers of woollen jumpers and thick coats to fight off the cold, the bare feet walks along the beach or hikes along the dirt trail along the top of the ridge.

He kept to himself mostly, and he was happier that way. He didn’t have to worry about anything.

A crack of lightning lit the shore.

Something caught his eye.

He sat upright in his chair, leaning forward to look out the window.

The light from the lighthouse swept across the beach, illuminating the strange shape that lay on the sand.

Derek’s brow furrowed, his stomach twisting in knots as he grabbed his binoculars for a better look.

The sweeping beam of the lighthouse’s light lit up the strange shape again.

A body.

Derek dropped the binoculars, kicking back his chair as he ran for the stairs. He sprinted down the spiralling metal stairs, the boom of his steps echoing through the lighthouse. He grabbed his torch and his coat—pulling it on as he ran into the rain.

The rain lashed at his skin. He squinted against the falling rain as he ran along the narrow dirt path that had been worn into the hill and led to the shore. His boots sank into the mud, splashing puddles.

The howling winds tore at him, his clothes already soaked as he ran across the beach to the figure that lay on the sand.

He dropped to his knees, carefully rolling the person onto their back. His

“Hey,” he shouted over the thunder, wind and rain. He gently shook their shoulder, but the young man didn’t stir.

He pressed his fingers to the man’s neck and felt for a pulse. He swallowed hard as he tried to stifle his own thundering pulse, his heart hammering against his ribs as he waited.

There—it was faint, but it was there.

Derek leapt into action. He carefully lifted the young man into his arms, carrying him back up the tail to the lighthouse. He kicked open the front door, nudging it shut behind himself as he carried the young man inside. He carefully laid him down on the uneven stones of the open kitchen-dining area and grabbed the old cell phone off the kitchen counter, searching through his contacts for one name.

The phone rang twice before someone answered.

“Derek?” Boyd answered, confused—his voice drained and lethargic.

“I need you and Erica up at the lighthouse. A body washed up on the beach—weak pulse, not breathing.”

He didn’t get to say anything else; the sleepiness vanished from Boyd’s voice—now sounding more awake as he said, “Erica says start CPR. We’re on our way.”

Derek hung up and tossed the phone aside. He grabbed the thick blanket from where it sat, folded over the old arm chair in the corner of the room. He laid it across the cold floor and carefully moved the young man onto it so that the uneven stones wouldn’t hurt him.

He pressed his hands to the young man’s chest and began compressions, keeping an even beat as he counted.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five…”

He felt his heart pound against his chest.

“Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen…”

He looked at the young man’s face, hoping he’d open his eyes or draw breath.

“Twenty-Seven. Twenty-Eight. Twenty-Nine. Thirty.”

He gently pinched the young man’s nose, using his other hand to carefully part his lips before pressing his mouth to the man’s and breathing air into his lungs.

His lips were cold, and his body was still, his chest unmoving.

Derek returned to the compressions, starting his count again, “One. Two. Three…”

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, his anxiety growing the more he counted.

“Twenty-Eight. Twenty-Nine. Thirty.”

He leant forward and brought his lips to the man’s again, breathing into him.

He drew back.

The young man coughed and spluttered, water bubbling from his mouth.

Derek gently rolled the him onto his side, patting his back as he spewed water across the tiles, his body shaking as he coughed up all of the sea water that he had swallowed.

Moments later, he heard the rumble of Boyd’s car engine pull up, the glow of the headlights bleeding through the window as he parked. He opened the door, ushering Erica inside. They shrugged off their rain-soaked coats. Boyd headed straight upstairs to keep an eye on the waters and Erica stepped over to Derek’s side. She dropped her medical bag beside her as she knelt down and looked the young man over.

“Good job,” she told Derek.

“He’s got cuts all over him,” Derek said, pointing out the gashes in his flesh and the streams of red that soaked his skin.

“Right, we’re going to need towels and a dry change of clothes,” Erica said.

Derek nodded, quickly rising to his feet. He ran up the stairs to his room. He dug through his old oak dresser for a change of clothes: a pair of track pants and a Henley. He grabbed the heavy blanket off his bed and made his way back downstairs as Erica finished checking the young man’s vitals.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching the young man’s chest rise and fall with shaky breaths. His breathing was better, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Help me get his clothes off,” Erica said.

Derek knelt beside her, lifting the young man’s body as Erica carefully removed his clothes.

She covered his bare body with the blanket as she cleaned and dressed his wounds.

Derek helped her dress him before carefully lifting the young man into his arms and carrying him upstairs. He nudged open the bedroom door with his foot and carried the man over to his bed. He lay him down, pulling the blanket up over him.

He turned to see Erica lingering in the doorway.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Derek said. “You two head home.”

Erica nodded. “If anything changes, call me.”

“I will.”

“I’ll check in on him tomorrow before I head off to work,” Erica said, turning to head upstairs to Derek.

“Hey,” Derek called after her.

She paused, turning back to him.

His gaze softened as he looked at her, the aventurine depths of his eyes full of gratitude as he said, “Thank you.”

[AO3]

[stealingcars]

Elizabeth

[freebooter4ever]

This is for @cuckoo-on-a-string whose fanfic I just finished reading, and also almost cried over, and anyway if you didn't know about the existence of the Dungeness Spit Lighthouse, I feel you must!

The above image is the spit and you can see the lighthouse at the very tip there in it's tiny tiny square of grass. The thing that's hard to capture in photos is the jarring abrupt change between landscapes. You spend 5.5 miles trudging along a sandy beach with nothing but rocks and scrub brush and dead drift wood:

With the end goal - the lighthouse - in your eyesight the whole way. And if you scramble to the top of the driftwood pile in the middle it becomes obvious that you are on a narrow strip of sand surrounded by water...and you're just walking this for MILES.

And then you finally hit The Sign

And the lighthouse peeks around the edge of a small bluff

And then you come upon the bluff and, bam, there is a fucking white fence and manicured GREEN GRASS and goddamn visitors center and picnic tables

And its like wtf kind of portal did i just walk through? Btw, dont wear sandals. I know its the beach but sandals are a no. Sandals + bare feet + abrasive sand + 11 miles of walking = WORST BLISTERS KNOWN TO MAN. Sanjeev had his hiking boots on. Sanjeev was the smart one. I wore sandals and for the last two miles i took them off and walked in the cold water just to numb my painful bleeding feet.

[escherlat]

The Time That Was

The sea breeze swept over the field, bending the grasses as it went. Bev paused as the breeze teased her hair, savoring the scent of water and brine and fish that traveled on the wind. The smell awakened a sense of longing, of mystery and possibility. She exhaled and let the breeze carry that sense from her.

She folded a napkin around the plastic fork, knife, and spoon and laid the bundle next to the plain white plate. She stepped to the left, folding another napkin around the plastic ware to place on the table. The napkins were white and blue. Her finger traced the blue design as she stepped to the next place.

Blue eyes. A smile. Torn t-shirt. A flash of light. Cigarette smoke. The images flashed through her mind, and Bev furrowed her brow. Her fingers rested on the latest paper bundle as she focused. Tucked under the ceramic plate, the breeze wouldn’t be able to blow it away, but that’s not what held her. The sounds and images that flitted through her mind, too fast to grasp, confused her. They were at once familiar and not.

“Beverly, honey,” her mom called, “when you’re done with the table, come help me with the food.”

When she didn’t respond, her mom added, “Hurry up! Your father will be here soon! Everything must be ready for Lynn’s arrival!”

The mention of her father and sister stirred Bev, and she looked up. Across the field where the table was centered stood her mom. She cradled several bundles in her arms as she carefully walked toward the table. Hurriedly, Bev finished setting the table. Once complete, she straightened and glanced at the ocean in the near distance.

For a moment, she saw a lighthouse towering over the water. The sight faded as quick as it came, leaving the long, straight line of gray-green water featureless. She took a step toward the water, then paused. Behind her, her mother grunted as she dealt with the food, and the sound pulled at her.

“Coming mother,” she rasped. Her voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the sea breeze. Years had passed since she’d spoken above a whisper.

She turned her back on the ocean and walked to her mom’s minivan. The back was open and coolers and bags filled half of the space. Today was a special day for the Marsh family: a celebration of Lynn graduating from college. Bev was thrilled for her youngest sister and had the perfect gift for her. She picked up a cooler and lugged it to the table.

After several trips, mother and daughter had emptied the minivan. They unpacked the containers and arranged the covered dishes down the center of the table. The breeze played with the edges of the red and white checked tablecloth.

While Bev worked, the sea called to her. It pulled at a place in her mind that didn’t exist. More than once she fumbled a lid or container as her mind was drawn to the gray expanse. When all was ready for Lynn and her mom didn’t need more help, Bev slowly walked to the bluff that overlooked the sea. The water was continuously in motion. White-capped waves rolled onto the rocky beach followed by countless others: a never ending parade.

Overhead, sea birds cried. A few bobbed on the water. The sun warmed her and touched a moment frozen inside her. A smile that lit a sea of freckles glowed before her.

Continue reading...

[ouroutdoorsports]

Best Kayak fishing sport in world

Pi-AS BAY, PANAMA

If you want to  enjoy in the winters and in need to experience a high class getaway, then this place is a fantastic one. Here both type of fish, big as well as small fish are available. Small ones you can catch near the shore and big ones of course out in the sea especially the Blue Marlin and Sailfish. Apart from fishing, there a lot number of hotels and bars to attract more and more tourists. So, Panama is a great place to visit for sure.

2)  Colorado River

The  Colorado  river  , or the Rio Colorado, in Costa Rican  is a distributory of the San Juan River  which flows 96 km (60 mi) towards the Caribbean  in the northern parts of Heredia  and Limón  Provinces. The   surrounding  habitats  are protected as part of the second largest rain forest  preserve in the country, the Barra del Colorado Wildlife Refuge.

The river is a well known tourist destination, particularly for fishing   for tarpon  and snook  The Colorado River is considered one of the best places in the world to catch Atlantic tarpon

This location for fishing is the most popular one in South America. The beautiful river of Costa Rica is not all to be missed. Suitable in the summer weather, this area is worth remembering especially in case of fish fights. It is literally like a tug of war kind of experience while catching fish here. The Rio Colorado Lodge is a resort that remains open for tourist for the whole year. So, an adventurous story is on the cards people

3)  Hatteras Island

Hatteras island , reconnect with family and friends, and yourself, through a variety of recreation. For example, you can fish right from the beach or take a charter boat out to the deep blue water of the Gulf Stream. Learn to harness the wind on a kiteboard or take lessons in leisure on paddleboards with your crew. There's little in the way of franchises and fast food but don’t confuse “doing without” with “going without.” Instead, think of soulful coastal restaurants and interesting mom-and-pop shops. While your setting will be a bit more on the untamed side of nature, accommodations are as modest or modern as you like. The beauty of Hatteras is that you can easily reach all the other OBX hotspots, but call a simpler and quieter part of the barrier islands your home away from home.

https://kayakfishinsider.com/ highlights winter on Hatteras Island, with businesses that are open and activities that are occurring during this special season.

Hatteras fishing is serious business especially for the anglers. People visit this place for other reasons like beach fun and shopping but the fishing feature attracts them the most. This location is famous for off shore fishing. This location is most suitable in winters between November and December. It is considered one of the best fishing spots on the Atlantic Coast and is famous for Yellow fin Tuna and Mahi Mahi. The weather condition is the perfect out here to make your trip even more satisfying and successful. You just have to charter a boat and you are ready to get an amazing off shore fishing experience. The fish is caught here with lures and chunks by flying-fishing technique which is very fascinating to watch out for.

4) Lizard Island

Lizard island is situated in  Australia's  which is most exclusive destinations. Lizard Island is situated 132 nautical miles in  north west of Cairns Queensland. The island covers an area of 1013 hectares and is surrounded by some of the most beautiful and pristine reefs in the world. These reefs are absolutely teeming with marine life - several species of clown fish, green turtles, giant clams, rays, amazing coral formations and hundreds of species of colorful  tropical fish await you at Lizard Island. Lizard Island boasts 23 pure white beaches. Lizard Island is the ultimate remote Great Barrier Reef experience. For those wanting to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia - it does not get any better than Lizard Island. LIZARD ISLAND HISTORY Lizard Island holds great historical significance concerning both Aboriginals and Europeans. Ltd James Cook, along with Sir Joseph Banks, named the island 'Lizard Island' after discovering many large sand monitors upon their first visit to the island. Just over 100 years later the island was inhabited by beache-de-mer fisherman. Watson's Bay on Lizard Island is named after one of these fisherman. The story of the escape of Watson's wife through the Great Barrier Reef from Lizard Island while sitting inside the cut-down boiler from a sunken ship has become one the most prominent tales of folklore from the pioneering era of Australia's history. Lizard Island in Australia is a very different or you may say kind of unusual Island. It is quite accessible for the tourist to reach the Island as the flights to this place are connected to all airports in Australia. This is the best fishing location especially in the season of September to December. The fish found here is the Black Marlin and you need to change your style of fishing for these local gliders. The island is situated on The Great Barrier Reef. It is quite an unforgettable holiday destination due to its fishing, beautiful view and luxurious resorts. All in one package deal! So, if you are a professional fisherman or a first timer, the fishing experience at the Lizard Island will make your day worth remembering.

5) Martha's Vineyard,

. Martha, vineyard has one of the best fishing spots since 70 years from now. You need to explore the natural beauty of the Island. This location is famous for plentiful of fully grown Striped Bass, Bluefish,  and False Albacore and also known as one of the best fishing spots. Mostly medium sized fish are find here a Massachusetts island, sits in the Atlantic just south of Cape Cod. A longtime New England summer colony, it encompasses harbor towns and lighthouses, sandy beaches and farmland. It's accessible only by boat or air. Vineyard Haven, on the eastern end, is a ferry port and the island's commercial center. Oak Bluffs has Carpenter Gothic cottages and an iconic carousel  of fully grown Striped Bass, Bluefish, Boneto and False Albacore and also known as one of the best fishing spots. Mostly medium sized fish are find here. It is situates in middle of the migratory route and natural bait is massive here which is the favorite food of fish.  Experienced fisherman and the locals out there mostly use casting poppers and parachute jigs to get an amazing experience of fishing.

6) Kailua-Kona

Is a town on the west coast of Hawaii Island . Hulihee Palace is a former royal vacation  from the 1800s, is Hawaii’s oldest Christian church. On Kailua Bay, reconstructed that ched houses at Kamakahonu National Historic Landmark mark King  Kamehameha Is residence. Colorful coral lies off Kamakahonu   Beach. Kailua Pier has boat moorings If you are planning a trip to Hawaii in the coming summers, then you got to visit this amazing fishing spot. Hawaii is the world’s top deep sea fishing destination and it is the capital of sports fishing as well. It is surrounded by five huge sized mountains. Here you will find a wide variety of fish like Tuna, Marlin, Wahoo and many more. .Apart from this you can find the amazing Pacific Blue fish weighing around 300 pounds approximately. Fishing across the sea is in itself an marvelous thing to explore.

7) EAST CAPE-BAJA,MEXICO

The East Cape Region extends from several miles east of San Jose del Cabo along the Sea of Cortez, to north of Punta Pescadero, Los Barriles and Rancho Buena Vista. All are names long popular with fly-in fishing diehards; but perhaps not so familiar to many others. That’s changing as more people discover this region where quiet hideaway hotels coexist with new restaurantsThe Real Baja”, is a terribly bumpy dirt road that runs for about 50 miles along the Sea of Cortez coastline. Blue and black marlin are plentiful from June to December, and the area explodes as the fishing resort crowd moves in. Roosterfish, yellowtail, wahoo and tuna are also abundant. Whatever your expectations, rest assured, there are miles of isolated coastline, pristine waters and an ample array of sports and activities for every taste, from diving to boardsailing.  It remains popular for almost the whole year but the peak time is from May to November. Marlins found here are really huge in size and shape nearly around or more than 1000 pounds. This is a very affordable destination to visit which can turn out to be very productive, fun and rewarding as well

Kailua

, also known by its post office designation Kailua-Konato differentiate it from Kailua located on the windward side of Oʻahu island, and sometimes referred to as Kona in everyday speech, is an unincorporated city (Census Designated Place) in Hawai County, Hawaii, United States

8) Betty Lake and Bob Lake

are accessible from the Hessie Trailhead in the Indian Peaks Wilderness. The lakes are located half a mile apart in the open tundra of an isolated offshoot in a gorgeous alpine valley. Visitors will enjoy light crowds and pristine landscapes on the hike to Betty and Bob lakes: Betty Lake is located just 9 miles away from Netherlands which is quite near. It is one of the best fishing locations in the whole of United States of America. You may find here a wide variety of cutthroat Trout which means there are full chances to get a bite! It is situated at the beautiful landscape of Indian Peaks Wilderness. It is basically a kind of hilly area with mountains and trees and shrubs all around. Suitable weather is mainly between June and July.

9) Chalk streams

are rivers that rise from springs in landscapes with chalk bedrock. Since chalk is permeable, water percolates easily through the ground to the water table and chalk streams therefore receive little surface runoff. As a result, the water in the streams contains little organic matter and sediment and is generally very clear. The beds of the rivers are generally composed of clean, compacted gravel and flints, which are good spawning areas for Salmonidae fish species Fish found here is the famous Trout which is available plentiful here. Spring season is the best season to go for fishing in this area and it is totally within your budget. So, if you want a beautiful fishing experience then it’s a must visit.

10) JEROME LAKE, ALASKA

It is also called Fair man Lake .At this fishing location you will find the Trout fish in large numbers. The view of this location is breathtaking and of course very photogenic. The late fall season is the most suitable for fishing here as it is the migration time. So, get your fishing rods and reel ready to catch Trout fish as many as you can.

11) Montauk, New York

Montauk  is a village at the east end of the Long Island peninsula. It’s known for its beaches, like Ditch Plains, with its strong Atlantic surf. At the peninsula’s tip, Montauk Point State Park is home to the 1796 Montauk Point Lighthouse. A museum in the keeper’s house displays historical documents signed by George Washington. Camp Hero State Park, once a military base, has WWII bunkers and a radar tower. Fishermen generally find smaller fish here as their fins get rub by the sandy shores of Montauk but these also weigh more than 40-50 pounds.

12) ASCENSION BAY, MEXICO

It is a long established fact that for fly fishing, Ascension Bay, Mexico, is the number one fly fishing destination in the world for catching Permit on the fly: moot point, done deal  Going further, did you know that Ascension Bay, Mexico, has an incredible,  The months are from February to June, you will find here Bonefish, Tarpon and Permit. Fishermen who love the flat angle style, this spot will give you the best experience by using the famous flying-fish technique. Due to excessive or plenty of water, you got to get some dry clothes with you. Fisherman Lodge is situated in an international wildlife park and UN Heritage Site; known as the Sian Ka'an National Park that spans some 1,300,000 acres of prime inflatable fishing flats. Ascension Bay is ranked as one of the finest fly fishing locations in the world and offers outstanding fly fishing opportunities; in its pristine flat; and mangrove-lined shores with a backdrop of the lush green rainforest.

[brynandchristopher]

The 3 Musketeers

Hello again! It is a bittersweet thing to say this will be our last post from New Zealand. We have had an absolutely wonderful time here and in part don’t want it to be over, but we are also ready to move on to our next adventure in Australia. We are looking forward to a little bit of routine and stability, as well as a new landscape to explore in a new van!!

The last time we checked in we had just finished the Kepler Track and were waiting to meet up with some friends of mine. We left Lake Dunstan and headed through a deep river/reservoir gorge between Cromwell and Alexandra to go see my college best friend, Camille, and her boyfriend, Aaron. They had been picking cherries and training young trees for about 7 weeks and when we arrived they had just finished their stint on the orchard. A lot of people here get a working holiday visa which allows them to stay for up to a year, and up to 2 years if 3 months of farm work is completed. Camille and Aaron were pretty sick of Alexandra so we headed out into the hills of Otago to camp for a few nights at a cool secluded freedom camp they knew of called St. Bathan’s place.

We spent 3 nights in St. Bathan’s and had a blast. It was situated around a bunch of cattle grazing pastures nearby to an old abandoned gold mine. The gold mining operation had left a large pit in the ground which over the decades filled up with rainwater and is now a lovely lake! We spent our first night there hanging out with Camille and Aaron and catching up on all of their adventures. We stayed up late into the night, having a few drinks, and freezing our toes off. It got really cold but we persisted in staying up and enjoying the amazing array of stars. We got full views of the milky way and it was definitely the best stargazing we’ve done during the trip. The next day we walked over to the lake and spent the day basking in the sun, listening to music, and climbing the fragile cliffs and jumping back down into the lake! We made dinner together and had another night of hanging out and listening to hilarious stories about Ireland, where Aaron is from. 

The next day was very gloomy and we spent most of the day watching The Mandalorian in our van, great show, highly recommend. It cleared up in the evening and Camille and I were treated to a few impromptu duets from Bryn and Aaron once he had enough whisky to bust out his guitar. 

The next day we left St. Bathan’s and went back to Alexandra to hang out at a lake nearby to the orchard Camille and Aaron worked on. It was an awesome lake with cool waterbirds and big cliffs all around. We hung out on the beach for a while and attempted our highest cliff jumping of the trip (~40 feet). It was a beautiful day and after taking care of some final logistical things in town, we all set out to a freedom camp in that river/reservoir gorge we came into town through called Champagne Gully. We enjoyed a last dinner together before going our separate ways the next morning. It was so much fun to see an old friend and spend a few days socializing, Bryn and I aren’t sick of each other but having other people around is nice sometimes :). 

The next morning was my birthday! Woohoo. We spent the beginning of the day at a cafe so I could watch my favorite soccer team, Manchester United, play my least favorite soccer team, Chelsea. Since it was my birthday they made sure to win for me :). We had some lovely drinks and treats at the cafe to celebrate and then headed to Queenstown to shower at the free service station. Bryn had planned a special dinner/activity for my birthday but wouldn’t tell me what it was, just that we had to be in Queenstown that evening. After hanging at the service station and talking to my fam, we drove into downtown. We parked the car and walked along the docks until we reached a famous old steamship, the TSS Earnslaw and Bryn finally let me in on the secret - we were taking a steamboat cruise across Lake Wakatipu to a traditional farm for a gourmet all-you-can-eat bbq dinner. The cruise was beautiful and we stood out on the front deck while we braved the wind and enjoyed the view. The farm was immaculate and definitely used for private functions and weddings from time to time. There were tons of flower gardens and a cool old Victorian style house where dinner was served. We got a lovely table overlooking the water and treated ourselves to a little bit of everything they had to offer. I think I went back to the buffet 4 or 5 times and was very, very full by the end of it. After dinner they did a demonstration in this cool outdoor amphitheater of how they shear sheep as well as a live demonstration of their herding dogs herding a flock of sheep down a hill. The control of the dogs was incredible, using different pitched whistles to signal them to stalk, bark, run, stop etc. There were two dogs were highly adept in working together and it was an awesome learning experience. After that we got back on the boat and headed back across the lake. There was a piano singalong of old folk songs in the back of the boat and Bryn and I sat right up by the piano in the heart of the diehard geriatric singers and sang our voices hoarse - there were some people that were suuuuper into it and it was really fun and hilarious to be a part of. Bryn even requested happy birthday at the end and I got a nice birthday serenade from a bunch of strangers :). 

The next day I got a wonderful belated birthday present :). My sister Madeline flew across the world to come visit us for 9 days. She arrived in the late afternoon and our first day we shopped for a few things, made a nice dinner in our Airbnb, and rested up so she could get over the jet lag quickly. The next morning we got up early and headed into town to kick off the festivities. We found a really good deal on a 3 person parasailing over Lake Wakatipu. It was such an amazing view as we were towed up behind a boat over the lake and a really fun way to kick things off. After our morning parasailing ride we walked around Queenstown and did a little bit of shopping before heading into the public flower gardens along the lake. After a lot of walking and minorly sore feet we decided to stop for lunch at a famous local restaurant called Fergberger. We got ourselves a meat pie, a burger, and the NZ version of a Boston creme donut. All of them were fantastic and a special treat, as we normally don’t eat meat or dairy. 

We had planned to do a cruise on Milford sound the next day but the landslides had destroyed the roads and still were not open to personal vehicles. We didn’t want to spend ~250 dollars for a commercial coach and cruise upgrade option so we made a change of plans and headed back to Wanaka where Bryn and I spent a few days a couple of weeks back. We went back to some cool cliff jumping and lazy river spots we found and stayed at a huge open campground in the woods and made friends with a bike packer named Karl. He serenaded a family of ducks with his flute and he and Madeline were fast friends! 

The next day we headed north up to Mt. Cook. We planned to go all the way up into Mt. Cook National Park but when we arrived the weather was very clouded and drizzly so we decided to wait until the next morning for better weather and camped at a lake. We made an amazing dinner of portabella mushroom burgers and red kumara (like a sweet potato) fries and snuggled up in the van to play a rousing game of monopoly. As monopoly always does, the game dragged on quite a bit, and I won by forfeiture - me and my sisters play monopoly back home so it was a really fun throwback game night. The next morning we got up early and drove an hour or so into the national park. We made a first stop and did a 3 km hike up to an overlook of the Tasman glacier. It was the first time Madeline had seen a glacier so that was really cool, and the views of the mountains were absolutely gorgeous. We continued up the road to its end where there were hundreds of cars/vans parked at the staging camp for a plethora of hikes. We opted not to join in on the difficult and crowded trails but just hung out, had some snacks, and enjoyed the view of NZ’s tallest mountain. After we left we had a hefty driving day and made it a long way south to yet another lakeside campground. 

The next day we drove even further south to the town of Bluff. We had spent the last 3 nights staying at freedom camps in our van - we had to pitch a tent as well because the van really only has space for 2 people - and were a bit weary of the cold and loneliness accompanying being alone out in the tent so we booked some more cheap Airbnb’s. The Airbnb in Bluff was really nice and after driving to the end of the peninsula at the end of NZ we utilized the real kitchen space to make an Italian feast of salad, gnocchi and vegetarian bolognese sauce, and garlic bread (and a little bit of wine). 

The next day we drove through the Catlins, a large forested area of southern New Zealand stopping along the way at some really cool natural features. We went to two different waterfall areas which each boasted multiple waterfalls and took in the beauty and got some great pictures. We stopped for a couple hours in a small town called Owaka so Madeline could take an online test back home which she took at the local library - after that we did a little souvenir shopping before heading to Jack’s Blowhole. After a sizable walk we made it to the blowhole, which was over 600 feet inland and nearly 400 feet deep! It was really crazy to see the tides flow in and out and spray up, we got there at high tide so it was in ideal form. After that we headed to Kaka Point, a small beautiful seaside town where we got another Airbnb up on the cliffs. Our host, Mary Jo, was super nice and gave us some good advice of what to do around there and let us play with her Red Heeler, Matty. I don’t have enough dogs in my life… :( The next morning we woke up very early to go to a lighthouse ~15 min away for sunrise. Madeline was in a sleepy stupor and was unable to rouse herself so Bryn and I made the journey on our own. It was really nice to be out in the early morning hours and we got some absolutely amazing views at Nugget Point. There were large rock outcropping all around the peninsula that looked like nugget of gold (or chicken). It was a lovely morning, despite a cloudy and slightly underwhelming sunrise. After going back to the Airbnb and making breakfast, we headed back through the Catlins to stop at some of the spots we didn’t have time to see on the first pass. We went to the famous Purakaunui falls as well as Curio bay. Curio bay had a petrified forest outcropping along the sea that is now home to the rarest species of penguin in the world. We were graced with a lucky sighting of the 2019 bird of the year, the Hoiho (noisy in Maori) or Yellow-eyed penguin. We were able to get reasonably close and watch it hang out along in petrified forest rocks. We went to a cafe afterwards and had some really nice snacks before heading to Weir Beach. We camped in a big open field along the ocean at the farthest south point in all of NZ this night and luckily, it wasn’t all that cold. 

The next morning we got up early and drove to Dunedin for our final day together. We got to our Airbnb and after taking showers we went into town. We walked around town a bit, stopping in some art galleries and cool shops to get a few souvenirs. We got a gelato in the main square downtown and played ping pong in the park for a while. Afterwards we went to the Black Dog, a chic restaurant bar for a final meal together. We shared cream of tomato soup as a starter and a chocolate mousse for dessert, along with our individual entrees of course - it was a really nice last supper together. We headed back to the Airbnb and hung out and snuggled before going to bed. We got up and drove to the airport the next morning for Madeline’s very early flight - I was very sad to say goodbye to her but am so thankful she came. I miss her and my family a lot so it meant a lot to me that she came all this way to see me. <3 

After we said goodbye to Madeline we packed up and did a long haul drive up to Christchurch where we are now. We will be in Christchurch for another ~2 weeks trying to sell our van and then we will head to Australia!!! Wish us luck selling the van, we might need it! :) 

Expect our best,

Christopher and Bryn

[marys-blog]

Fort Ebey on Whidbey Island is one of Washington’s finest state parks. Our recent camping trip reminded me of what a treasure this 651-acre park is with its historical value, camping, and hiking/biking trails. The fort was acquired by Washington State Parks in 1968 and opened to the public in 1981.

Located on the western side of Whidbey Island, Fort Ebey originally was constructed as a coastal defense fort during the Second World War. The fort’s gun battery and underground rooms were built into a hillside and are great fun to explore. From there visitors can walk along the high bluff with magnificent views of Puget Sound’s Admiralty Inlet and Point Wilson Lighthouse across the bay. If you’re in luck, you might catch someone paragliding off the high bluff.

Fort Ebey offers 38 standard and 11 partial hook-up campsites, plus a group camp that accommodates up to 60 people. Picnic tables and fire rings are available at campsites with restrooms close by.

Day-use facilities at the fort offer two reservable log picnic shelters that will accommodate large groups. Several unsheltered picnic tables and BBQ grills are also available in the day-use area on a first-come, first-served basis.

One of the draws of Fort Ebey is its access to Kettles Trails for hiking and biking. Some of the trails are wide and flat, others winding and steep. The area, named for the depressions formed by melting blocks of ice that broke free from an ancient glacier, offers 25 miles of pristine forested trails sprinkled with pink big-leaf rhododendrons in season. Beach walking and surfing are also popular activities at the park.

We love Fort Ebey and over the years have camped there many times. We highly recommend this park for camping, picnicking and as a place to view an historical World War II defense fort.

[pharology101]

LOTD: Table Bluff (Original Site)

(from: http://www.ibiblio.org/lighthouse/ca.htm)

Table Bluff (original site)

1892. Inactive since 1961. The lighthouse has been relocated (next entry) but its foundation remains on the original site. A 1-story wood fog signal and radio building survived for many years. Google has a satellite view. The Wildlife Conservation Board and Coastal Conservancy purchased the land from private owners and conveyed it to the Bureau of Land Management. In 2012 the Bureau demolished the fog signal building and all the remaining structures of the station. Located at the end of Table Bluff Road, five miles west of US 101 north of Loleta. Site open but reported overgrown with vegetation. Owner: U.S. Bureau of Land Management. Site manager: Humboldt County (Table Bluff County Park).

(photo found here; ©K. Andersen)

[looking4meaningblog]

Boat Harbour Beach

As the clouds disappeared and the sun came out, we arrived at a stunningly beautiful beach with white sand and turquoise water. With clouds coming and going, we experienced this special place in different shades and colours. Boat Harbour Beach.

The morning was dedicated to run a few errands in the town of Burnie. Then we kept going west towards Wynyard which had a few interesting attractions. The wind nearly blew us off the lookout at Fossil Bluff, we made it to the lighthouse at Table Cape for more impressive views, and even a bit of rain did not stop us. But then, as the clouds disappeared and the sun came out, we arrived at a…

[semi-imaginary-place]

Name: Nacre Hallis

Role: Perspective

They catch the updraft off the windward side of their Lighthouse, rising into the sky. A constant battle against gravity, an inevitable fall. They ride from wave crest to wave crest, just a little more.

Nacre is a Gull of Selkie’s Rock. Every day they leave the lighthouse either by glider or on their nimble one-person sailboat to watch for storms and incoming ships. Nacre spent their 20’s roving from lighthouse to lighthouse before returning to Selkie’s Rock and was both comforted and disappointed to find it much the same, the same families and the same problems but new coats of paint. They stirred the lighthouse up a bit when they first got back but nothing really came of it and they eventually settled into their job as a Gull. They’re a little bitter and a little tired.

Wish/Fear: "May winds stay fair”

Issue: Torn between their loyalty to Selkie’s Rock and their desire to chase the horizon and never look back

《Bond: Old Man Zim: Facinated by Zim’s monster stories, Nacre was inspired and encouraged to go beyond Selkie’s Rock. They often meet up for drinks. Nacre goes to him for seafaring advice.

》Bond: Maeve Conmara: Nacre sees Maeve as dangerous, that she’s always looking down instead of up, looking back instead of forward.

Locations: The Bluff, The Docks

 Nacre is just finishing filling out their side of the papers for the incoming vessel when they hear Cormac approach. They raise a hand in greeting, snorting at his question.“Well it certainly could be better, you’re right about that. Fair weather the whole week but the number of ships are down.”

“That Slimer’s really gone and done it this time. Who gave that idiot control of a ship? Oh right. His dearest family.” Nacre sighs but then pauses looking thoughtful, “But it can’t just be that. News wouldn’t have reached the Dallion Alliance yet, or the lighthouses farther out. And I can’t see them opening their hearts and caring all of a sudden...It might be the sea beasties, been seeing more of them. Saw one of those greater spined morays just this morning, you know, the ones with the giant head spines. “

.

 Yes:

Statement that no family rules selkies rock. Precedent

 No:

People will go hungry this winter

Conmaras will try to get away with more in the future.

 Nacre watches the *Azure Arrow* approach, her sails taunt from the wind, "Well, we’re going to be hurting for the loss of commerce. Then we’re going to hurt when all that oil affects the harvests. If the Conmaras don’t pay it’s the regular folk that will."

 Their eyes turn up to the gathering clouds, “Making ol’ Slimer pay sets the precedent. No family rules Selkie’s Rock. Not the Conmaras, not the LirBorns, you mess up, you pay for it.”

 Nacre looks back at Cormac, clasps him on the shoulder and walks over to greet Old Man Zim.

.

 “Well the council didn’t seem pleased with the proposal, but when I delivered this letter, the man immediately ran off, didn’t even close him front door. Wonder what that was about.”

 “How’s your morning been?”

.

 Nacre turns the bit of cloth in their hands. Rionna? or was this more Scrap’s doing? Part of Nacre was glad to see the foundations of the lighthouse shifting. Just, anything. Rionna, Cormac, Slider, Scrap, Maeve... yes. But also the crew cleaning up the spill, this whole leaning tower built on the families. Letting Slider slip out meant the burden would fall on those already hard hit by the poor harvest. Someone would starve regardless of how Rionna planned to use it as kindling. Disciplining the Conmaras would keep the other families in line, set a standard…

 Tear down the tower or brace it, either way a storm was brewing.

.

 Zarc Talkeen’s been a seaman for a few years now, practically jumped at the opportunity to crew The Mother of Pearls and follow in his mother’s footsteps out to sea. But then the rope snaps and tangles his legs and he is dragged along with it. Under the water, dashed against something he doesn’t have time to process, and under again; the shouts of Maeve and the workers are distant and interrupted, Zarc’s thoughts only on freeing himself, it’s the only thought his brain can process in the chaos.

 And then steel cable strikes steel and there’s a spark. Zarc’s last memory is of fire on the water.

.

 The moon hangs low on the sky closer to sunrise than sunset, its light mingling with that of the lighthouse’s. Nacre stands on the edge of the Bluff, watching the sheen of residual oil on the waves. They are exhausted, drained and numb after the events of the day. From seeing their friend go down to a blow to the head, unmoving, to holding a cloth to his head to stop the bleeding, to stepping back so Old Zim could speak, so awkwardly hovering besides their friend all the way home, Nacre had not stopped moving. Now everything was still, everything except the endless churning on the waves.

 All things pass, both foul and fair. The roar of the mob… they weren’t wrong, and with that a bitterness wells up to fill the emptiness. Always a step ahead or a step behind, never in the right place at the right time. Nacre had cried out of the Rock’s crumbling foundations, the corruption of nepotism and the turf wars between the families, but their voice hadn’t reached anyone. Like an invisible wall cutting them off from the rest of the Lighthouse, no matter how loud they had shouted, no one had turned their head.  Would the council try to sweep this too under the rug?

 .

 <NEW SCENE>

Location: at sea

 A Gull must be able to read the wind, it’s the wind after all the decides how long and how far you can go in a day, go too far or stay too late and you’ll be stuck in the middle of the sea. Nacre remembers watching the others take off from the Lighthouse, still stuck on the ground as the flight instructor explains they aren’t quite ready.

 This day has been clear with the strong winds that come in Autumn. Ardan and Nacre have been out several hours to the far reaches of the Gull’s range, leaving the ship registration to others for the day. Soon they will enter the danger zone for returning. Nacre is about to give the signal for the two of them to use the next gust to pivot and start heading back to Selkie’s Rock when movement catches their eye. Looking attentively, they see its not the movement of waves but a large fin sinking back into the water. Nacre and Ardan circle watch as another fin breaches the surface. The King Fishers are finally here along their annual circumpolar migration, a little late but here. Ardan lets out a whoop as the two head back.

.

 Nacre watches with amusement as Ardan bounces around. They then survey the rebuilding of the Docks, mycelium composite beams being hauled in to replace charred wood, “We need that oil”. The hand on their glider tightens.

 They back to Ardan, “Don’t get too excited now, if you wanted action you should have become a monster hunter instead of a Gull, our job’s just about done. Just some more scouting and maybe running a distraction during the hunt, but that won’t be you or me, probably Andre or Crisol or Haley, they all have excellent control. Its dangerous work, you know how every year someone comes back injured, or worse”

 Ardan deflates a little and seeing that Nacre exhales, takes a breath and says, “Look, just means you have room to grow. You do it, and you slowly get better at it. Look at us. A few years ago, neither of us could fly, and in a few more years who knows how far you’ll go.”

 Nacre lightly slaps Ardan on the back and starts walking towards the Lighthouse. They smile as they walk, “You know, Old Man Zim used to tell me stories of the old King Fisher hunts, the water teeming with so many of the scaly beasts that you could walk a mile on top of their backs without ever getting your toes wet. Always thought he was exaggerating that bit, certainly never seen anywhere near that many in my years as a Gull. But my gran said the same thing, that our boats would come back sitting low and fat in the water and we’d have extra for the entire next year and to sell.”

 All around them word of the arrival of the King Fishers is spreading, excitement grows as people look forward to a good harvest, a little more food on the table, the security that the light won’t go out.

 “Makes me wonder, where did they all go?”.

.

 As two pairs of feet make their way up the Lighthouse. Nacre turns over the question in their head some more and rubs the back of their neck, “I might just be rambling here—I mean who here really knows—all we’ve gots are the old tales of sailors to go off of and the recent unrest has thrown off my compass so to speak but I don’t know maybe they went somewhere else I mean they’re always going somewhere aren’t they just passing by or maybe there really aren’t many left things are always changing maybe it’s us I haven’t thought this one through—Actually you know who might have a clearer picture here. Ol’ Selsei . A right old seadog she is, been watching over the fisheries ever since she retired from monster hunting. Perhaps accessing the archives or asking Diana would be a good idea as well.”.

 “Just in time for the afternoon meeting.” Nacre nods at Ardan,  “Ardan, they don’t need two of us there. Go ahead and write the report and leave it on my desk, I’ll read over it and file it later. When I get back you can come with to go see Selsei is you are still curious”

 As Nacre nears the meeting room, they hear the rumble of conversation through the door. They knock and open the door to Lyra Conmara glaring at the Council of Selkie’s Rock. Lyra looks glances at the door before standing, setting her jaw and fiercely articulating “I dearly hope the Council remembers who are truly the foundation on Selkie’s Rock”. Nacre watched Lyra leaves the room, her heavy footsteps retreating down the hallway.

 “I am here to report on the patrol of today the 23 of the 10th month, a formal report will be available on file shortly. Today a group of approximately 16 King Fishers was spotted along the eastern boundary. The hunting companies have been notified. Taking into account yesterday’s finding, it is recommended that they embark soon,”

.

 “Rionna Lirborn hmm?”, Nacre turns their head to Rionna, face neutral.

“We all have a place here at Selkie’s Rock, but as our Lighthouse crumbles, you will find those places easily shift and fall away.”

“The council would do well to make an informed decision.”

.

Diana was a bit past her flying years but no one had a sharper memory or knew the archives better than her. And every afternoon she took tea with her old friend and diametric opposite Selsei. Today, Selsei and Diana sat in an alcove lit by lanterns, heads bent together, makeshift table cluttered with papers and mugs of redfan tea. At the approach of Nacre with Ardan trailing behind, Diana lifts a hand to greet her coworkers while Selsei tilts her head and chuffs at the new arrivals before taking a deep draught from her mug.

 “Excuse us”, Nacre nods to the two of them, “I’m sure the buzz of the King Fishers arriving has reached you two—Me and Ardan were out there this morning actually—and I had a thought. Wasn’t there more in the past? Diana you know the recorded sightings from past years, could I take a look? And Selsei you were out there on the water, Old Man Zim told me there used to be droves of them.”

 Diana lowers her eyes and takes a sip from her mug before folding her hands in her lap, mind sorting though all the reports she’d read. Selsel though leans forward, elbow on the table and says, “Nacre eh, ohhh the one always hanging onto Zim’s sleeves. Yeah, crewed a few of those with Zim and just as many on a competitor, heh, taught him a good few tricks I did. And well you’re not the only ones who’ve noticed, I may be retired but I keep up with what happens out on the sea. Them hunter still bring back a fair amount, but each year the big ones are harder to find. It used to be about testing yourself, reaching the summit of what us humans can do, taking down a god. Now its just business, feed the light, profit off other lighthouses. And the King Fishers the bring in keep getting smaller, haven’t seen a real big one in years. Oh what’d I do to hunt one again.”

 Diana speaks as Selsei falls quiet, eyes on her friend. “Yes, I do believe the reports match up. Well, the early records are all a mess, I never spent much time with those, full of strange words. But ever since we’ve been keeping track of the number of King Fisher sighted and caught, yes the trend has been downward. Let me write down the ones I remember.”

 Nacre frowns, “I can look up the remaining years, but would either of you two have an idea of why? I hesitate to jump to conclusions and say its us, but has anything else changed? Maybe their food or the water itself?”

 “Its those damn Lirborns muscling in and trying to squeeze us dry, all for what, a lil more cash”, Selsei scoffs, “They forget about the Hunt, and what it means to kill one who fishes for kings.”

 Diana glances at Selsei but looks to Nacre and responds, “Its hard to say for certain, the sightings and catch are what we have most consistently recorded, but everything else either falls outside of our jurisdiction, or its at the whims of the council. What is determined to be important enough to record cycles with who sits in the Council.”

 Diana sighs, “I tried appealing for a long term plan, but we need funding for that. Securing funding for the decades that have not come, it was difficult. But data like this is no use to anyone in fragments. I can’t track any pattern.”

 Nacre nods, “I guess we’ll just have to work with incomplete data. Maybe it really is us. If we killed all the big ones that’d explain when we don’t see none anymore. And the steady catch would be because every year we try harder. If that’s true then one day soon there won’t be any more King Fishers.”

 So there in the belly of the archive, four huddle over a small table as they try to piece together a puzzle missing half of its pieces, but elsewhere in the Lighthouse hunters prepare their harpoons while the council argues on. Along street and houses lanterns and paper fish are being hung up to welcome the arrival of the Kingfishers, children run along the street, King Fisher kites streaming behind them. The waters are calm, no back breaks the surface.

.

Y1: extinction of kingfishers (maybe not immediately but eventually)

N1: public moral plummets and discontent spreads

N2: resources shortages (food, oil), so winter rationing starts or something

 N1: king fishers dont go extinct

Y1: public moral increases

Y2: we make it through the winter

[murphystartedthefire]

Memori Appreciation Week, Day 2: canon-divergence

(guys, I’m sorry, this took the NO GOOD VERY BAD TURN from canon at “God Complex” although there’s still some room for hope in the end. heed this Content Warning for angst though.)

He keeps yelling until they come back and drug him too. It's a relief at first, that they might take him instead, but he wakes up still tied to the ladder. Immediately goes back to screaming and cursing and demanding to see Emori. Clarke has sad eyes and he knows they've done it. A lot of people are telling him to Listen and calm down. What Roan says is behave, and Murphy tries to bite him so they drug him again. The last thing he's saying is sorry I'm sorry I'll stop-

He wakes up the second time and breathes through his nose. Doesn't scream. Waits for them to open the door. It's a long time before someone does - Clarke again - and she actually jumps when she sees him awake and staring back at her.

He can do this, keep himself still and his voice even. Trembling but even. "Where's Emori?" he says. "I'm calm. Is she dead?" (His voice rises a pitch on the word, he hates it.)

"No," Clarke says, fast, too fast, and he doesn't believe her, her eyes are too sad. "No, I told you, she'd- she's fine."

"Untie me," he says without cursing. Already feels defeated, like he's calling her bluff. Why lie about her being alive, unless they've already decided he's next?

"All right," she says uneasily. "Murphy, she's not doing well, but she'll get better. We started the test-"

"Stop it," he blurts, panicked.

"We did. She's sedated right now. You can see her if-"

Anything, he thinks. But also fuck you, and also, still, I told her we were safe here. She wanted to go. I told her we were safe. If you killed her, I killed her. Do you get that?

He’s calm.

When they finally let them see her, she's not sedated anymore. She is spitting black blood into a can and can't sit up on her own and has sores down her arms and her forehead and.

He forgets he said he wouldn't run. He runs to her and stops. Afraid he'll hurt her if he grabs her too hard. Finds a piece of her head where her skin isn't breaking and kisses her there, puts his arms next to her, clutching the table at both sides, like a shield. This is better. He grabs the table so hard his hands hurt.

She says, "John," in a labored breath, sinking onto her back. Then something softer he can't hear.

"It's okay," he's saying. "It's okay. I'm sorry. We're okay."

She collects as much of her voice as she can and tells him, "You need to run." He doesn't, he said he wouldn't, and she doesn't protest more than that. He lifts her enough so she can sit up, and then she lies into him, and now he can't go anywhere. They've both accepted that.

----

It's a while of her leaning into him, finding places he can touch and hold her, before he hears anyone else, but starts to get snippets of what they're saying.

("We give her the pill, we don't have any more meds left here-" )

("There's more at Arkadia.")

("She might heal on her own." )

("Clarke, we don't know that-" )

("At least we'll find out that much.")

Their voices trail off then, and he realizes he was murmuring shut up shut up out loud and didn't hear himself.

"Murphy?" someone says gently, and it's Raven two feet away from him. Her eyes are locked on Emori.

"Stay there," he says, and she nods and doesn't come closer.

"Emori, I'm gonna get you some more water," she says. Then, "Murphy'll give it to you." She comes back with a cup of ice, not water. This is bad. This is bad. He thinks about Luna and the little girl, and he has no idea where Luna went or if they killed her too. Who knows?

"So I'm clear," Roan says in a low, firm voice, "it doesn't matter if she gets better or not. We only know she went as far as the first one."

"Not as far," Clarke admits quietly.

"I'm not doing this again," Abby says, seemingly from nowhere.

"So I'm clear," mimics Murphy - calm, calm - "this got you fucking nothing?" Clarke flinches. Good. She's the only one meeting his eyes.

"You should have finished it," Roan says in a voice like he's agreeing with him, and Murphy decides right then he's going to watch him die first. He’ll make sure they all die, but him first.

Roan is stronger than him, and Miller is armed, and he knows they will be the hardest people to kill, but he doesn't care. He'll wait until they're asleep. He'll wait until Emori's asleep.

(She won't mind the killing, she'll mind the danger. She'll tell him not to in her cracked voice but he will, he wants to. He'll come back to her when it's over and place more ice cubes on her lips and then...)

Then he doesn't know. Take her to the lighthouse and wait to die there. Away from everybody, like she wanted, like they were supposed to.

Abby and Clarke are talking quietly, tensely. Then Clarke's closer than two feet to him and he laces his fingers into Emori's hand and she squeezes, with as much strength as she has, even though it probably hurts. Don't say you're gonna kill them, he tells himself. But you are gonna kill them, like a reassurance.

“4000 REM is Praimfaya,” Clarke tells him, gesturing to a monitor. Then to the machine, which makes Emori shiver harder against him. “2500 is what killed... whoever that was. Emori was around 1800 when-" she doesn't finish the thought.

She woke up is the thought, and she was distressed, and they made a choice, and it's supposed to make them grateful. Murphy bites his cheek. Don't say you're gonna kill them, just do it. Like her.

"She might- she will get better," Clarke lies. "But we don't know what that means for everyone else."

"I hope it means you die," he spits. He's bad at this. He's bad at this.

Next to him Emori whimpers "please" with the voice she has. He's never heard her say that before. She told him once, she hadn't let anyone make her beg since she was a kid. He feels knives in his stomach.

"I promise," Clarke is saying. "Emori, I promise we're not putting you back." And then, in a tentative voice, in a hating-herself voice, "Murphy won't let that happen."

Abby is staring numbly into the wall. Emori's hand doesn't loosen around his, and for a second her eyes say I told you so before something more desperate and frightened takes hold. She mouths "Run" again. He can't go anywhere. Catch up, Emori.

"Okay," he says. “Yeah.” Calm. Good. He'll be good until they take the needle to his arm, and then he'll hit Clarke in the face and stab her with it.

They don’t trust him enough for that, though, which is smart. "I love you," Emori croaks, and then he gets drugged again.

----

When he wakes up he's not sure if he's dead or not, or a nightblood or not. He knows he's not throwing up or bleeding. He's on the nice bed in the mansion and Emori is too, and she's able to sit up but not really able to stand. Her left arm’s draped over him. She has bald patches through her hair he didn't notice before, without her scarf on. They're supposed to be grateful or something.

He goes downstairs and finds his backpack and the kitchen knife. Cuts his hand and it's black. There's a note on the table that says I'm in the lab. Radio. -Raven. like it's a grocery note. He goes back upstairs and takes the knife with him.

Emori says, "Let me listen" when he tells her about the radio. What he gathers is they gave him the needle but didn't put him in the machine, and then went to check out a bunker in Polis because all this got them fucking nothing.

He puts the knife into his bag and tells Emori, "I'm gonna kill them."

"Who?" she says, swallowing each word slowly. "Everyone left but Raven."

"When they come back," he says.

Emori almost smiles at something he doesn’t understand, and takes in a slightly-less-ragged breath than before. "Stay with me," she says sadly. He does.

----

They go back to the lab later. He's sure Emori won't want to but she agrees -- "We can't stay here" -- and so he carries her. He wants to make sure the machine is still there, because he's been thinking of putting Clarke in it, or Abby, or both of them, depending who he decides he wants to suffer more.

But they’re not here anymore. They left them only with Raven, which sucks because he doesn't really care about killing Raven. They've got him there. The knife sits in his backpack waiting, and Raven putters around the lab talking to herself. And she looks after Emori sometimes, when he falls asleep, when he has to pee, and Emori never cringes from her. So that's okay. He doesn't want to hurt Raven just for being there, not again anyway. He's waiting for Jackson or Miller to come back, so he can kill them instead.

"They're not coming back, John," Emori says eventually, quietly.

"I should've killed them."

She says nothing. She doesn't say no.

They could go back to the mansion, or try the lighthouse. They'll live longer at the lighthouse. Maybe the nightblood really works and they live forever.

----

He lifts Emori again, one step at a time, and Raven almost doesn't notice them leave. "Hey. You're supposed to help me," she says. "I'm supposed to keep you here."

"For what?"

"So they can take you back to this bunker. Five years underground, hydroponic farm. It sounds nice." It's weird she's not saying us. "Nicer than burning, anyway."

"And where are you going?" She gestures up, trying to be flippant. Her hair is a mess.

"Rocket."

He tries to find the space in him to care. Emori looks like she cares. "They're not coming back," Emori explains, to Raven this time. "I'm glad you have somewhere to go." Her voice is too flat to tell if she means it or not, but he thinks she does.

"Wait," Raven says, taking a breath. And it hits him that if it wasn’t the pill Raven gave her, the stuff might be working on Emori, and Luna's not here, and maybe they need their blood now. At least Raven might. He's still deciding whether he cares. Raven touches Emori's forehead and she doesn't move away, so Murphy doesn't shove her.

"If you need her blood, you can take mine, right?" he says, an edge in his voice. "But you didn't test it all the way."

"It's too late for that," Raven mumbles, but he's not sure if he believes her. "That's not what I-" she cups Emori's face and sighs with something like relief. He exchanges a look with Emori. Can they go or not? They can go either way. He has a knife.

Emori touches John's neck where it meets his shoulder. He's already straining from carrying her. "I can walk. I'll just be slow." He sets her down, still resting all her weight into him. It didn't hurt. He could've kept doing it.

Raven's still hovering like she wants to say something else, forcing something back. Finally she says, "Abby's giving you her spot, Murphy. I'm giving Emori mine."

"Keep it," he says automatically, without thinking. He doesn't have to look at Emori to know she doesn't trust it. He trusts it a little, even now, which is... stupid. He's already feeling less like killing everyone, and he just wants to lie down somewhere. But that's dangerous. She wanted to go, I told her we were safe here.

Even if they’re telling the truth, and there’s no catch to it... it feels different, that way, surviving on charity (it won’t last), on deaths of people who want to die. It’s not spite, he wants to live, but either way feels like a door slamming closed.

"What do you want?" he asks Emori softly. Anything. She looks at Raven, shakes her head. That makes it easier. Raven looks like something deflates inside her.

"Don't die like Luna," Raven begs, and he doesn't really know what the hell that means. Probably something like on your own, bitter, but they've always been that. They barely pretended to be anything else. "We're all screwed-up. You don't have to be alone."

Which is honestly hilarious coming from someone taking a one-way rocket trip, and she probably gets that, but he doesn't say it to her. Instead Emori says, "We won't," two small arms around one of his.

"We won't," he repeats. He’s less alone tied to her than the ladder. He was never that alone in his life. And Raven seems to get it then, and glances off at something they can't see.

"I know, I got it," she says to nobody. She's different when she looks at them again, decisive. "Good luck," she says, sniffling, voice hard again. "Set a timer on the locks, just in case."

He hadn't thought about that. If it works, they'll miss the worst of the death wave, they could walk right outside. If it doesn't, they're dead in a couple months anyway. "Thanks," he mumbles. The knife's still in his bag. He could wait for Miller to come back. Take Abby's spot. Five years to kill the rest of them any time.

Emori sways weakly next to him, and the thought fades away. They’ll survive or they won’t, away from everybody. like they were supposed to. Not alone. He doesn't care about the rest of it.

[xaegis1x]

Pictured Rocks Thru Hike 2020 Part 2

Day 1 - Getting There.   

While the act of packing, ordering food, safety gear, and all the other assorted stuff can take a while - I did start with almost all the necessary bits to get the four of us ready to go.    

The best local town to start this hike is Munising, MI in the Upper Peninsula.  It was a 6 hour drive for us get to Munising where we had the pleasure of staying at the most expensive Holiday Inn in the history of the world at $280 per night (grin).  It was clean and a brilliant property - but goodness.   

We needed to get there the night before so that we could catch the shuttle to the trail head at 8am in the morning the next day.   There are other options for sleeping in Munising that are not as pricey and had I been doing it solo I would have just slept in my car...haha.   

They have a couple of great brew pubs in town.  By George makes some crazy good beer and the Pizza Place across the street is incredible.  And, because it is the Midwest everyone is just flat out hospitable.   What a joy.  

So, drove, drank, ate, and then slept - in that order.   

Day 2 - Grand Marais to Au Sable East

As we decided to hike from East to West, we dropped our car at Munising Falls Visitor Center at met the shuttle at 8am.  The shuttle took up to Grand Marais Visitor Center - took about 90 minutes for the trip.   The goal for the day was to hike 7.1 miles to Au Sable East campground.   To net it out - we started at 10am and got to the campsite at 1:30pm.  This includes all breaks and such.  

The hike is a mostly smooth, comfortable hike on a loamy soft trail.  There is one big down after Masse campground - but nothing challenging.   The campground is very clean and well maintained.  Pro Tip - pick a campsite towards the west end of the site so you get the breeze and can hear the waves crashing all night.  

Just 0.5 miles from the campground is the Au Sable Lighthouse.  We hung out in the sun at the lighthouse, had lunch, took a nap, and took in the views.  You get a tremendous shot of the Dunes to the East from the Lighthouse.   Pro Tip - they have potable water at the lighthouse.  Camel up here as it is just easy.   

Day 3 - Au Sable East to Seven Mile Creek

This is an easy day for hiking.  Mostly flat if not just some slightly rolling hills.  The trail is road, loamy trail, and just a bit of sand.   We stopped and had lunch at Twelve Mile campground.  This is perfect as they have real toilets and picnic tables for you to relax at while you are eating lunch.  

We started at 11:30am and finished by 3:00pm with a total of 7.3 miles of hiking.  This is a quick day.  Seven Mile Creek is a good site - they lack a pit toilet so you will need to dig a cat-hole.  Look for sites 4 & 5 right on the river.  

Day 4 - Seven Mile Creek to Beaver Creek

Only did 6 miles this day.  We could have pushed on to Chapel Rock, but one of the things about Pictured Rocks is your reservation dictates your site itinerary.  So, Beaver Creek it was.   Started at 10:30am and finished 1:15pm.  A bit of a sandy trail, but largely enjoyable rolling trail through the forest.   

The bonus about the short day is the natural swimming hole at Beaver Creek where it meets Lake Superior.   This is one of the wonders that you stumble upon that makes it all worth it.   The river is warm and the lake is cold - it could not be more refreshing if you paid for it at a 5-Star Resort.   We swam, sunbathed, napped and just enjoyed the glorious gift of the day.  The campsites are up on the bluff, so you get a great breeze, and open enough to see the stars as you look up from your tent at night.