Sometime in May.
That wind is howling and rattling my tent so violently I am sure that at any moment I will take off as Dorothy did in Kansas. Lightening strikes and illuminates the endless horizon while thunder waits a moment to shake what little ground there is here. The heavy, wet, sea salt air sticks my body to my bed as if in a bath of Elmers glue and my fingers and toes are so like prunes I could put them in my morning porridge.
NMFS Permit No. 16632-00