Pacific Northwest
On the Edge of America
Excerpt:
“The tide was coming in. It was late February. The beach eroded around and beneath you. A simple misstep off the slimy rocks or embedded jumble of jagged-edged timber or getting caught in the sinewy, bulbous sea grass and you ‘d be sucked easily into the fearsome undercurrent. The rough pounding and spreading burst of cold surf along the Straits of Juan de Fuca were relentless.”
Implicit Danger
Excerpt:
“As the sun rose but not confidently, Anne detected distant rain and I yelled out a sudden increase in velocity and decrease in depth. It was plain the variables in tides and wind, current and weather retained their ill-defined meanness if miscalculated. The boom still able to swing unexpectedly into your head and the boat, gliding at top speed of five knots, still leaning precariously on its leeward side as the black water swirls and foams and whips by you, a hundred feet or more of it below, still able to swallow you in moments.”
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