“If everybody had an ocean . . .” the Beach Boys sang in my headphones, “. . . across the ‘You-Es-Ay’/Then everybody’d be surfin’/like Cali-forn-I-ay!”
I glanced up from the wedge of spruce I’d been splitting, and surveyed the water in front of me. Big waves crashed against the rocks, sending an occasional salt spray shower over me and my work. Chill wind whipped the trees behind me as another rain squall rolled up Lynn Canal, darkening the sky. There’d be no surfing in this particular part of the “You-Es-Ay” today. Continue reading
