
Village by the Sea
Dark and early at 6 a.m., John Weed and I rolled from our sleeping bags in the waterfront shack of the Lost Coast Rowing Club that had provided us with a welcome refuge.
Dark and early at 6 a.m., John Weed and I rolled from our sleeping bags in the waterfront shack of the Lost Coast Rowing Club that had provided us with a welcome refuge.
It’s been said that behind every successful man is a great woman.
Napoleon opined, “An army travels on its stomach.”
Poseidon had now blessed us with two sweet, easy days.
Some people wander into the magnificent landscape of the North Coast as trust-fund vagabonds, some purposefully drive up as leisure-seekers fueled by bulging retirement accounts, a few are billionaires who choose to slum in the countryside.