Letters From the Cold Coast

The ferry runs twice a week in winter and once when the weather disagrees. You learn to plan in tides rather than hours.

Fog here is not weather so much as furniture. It arrives, it stays, it rearranges the distances until the far island is a rumour and the near rocks are the whole world.

I came for two weeks and stayed for five months, which everyone on the pier had privately predicted. Nobody mentioned it until the day I left.