Sunset, Rolfe Cove, Matia Island Washington
We slipped into the tiny cove at dusk, as evening replaced the heat of day and the last glow of the afternoon sun lit the trees on the eastern shore. Shadow draped the western hills and the air lay purple, smoky and still.
Anchoring beneath a sandstone bluff, we donned sweaters against the chill, hung a lantern at the masthead and tied the dinghy tight against the stern. Down below we lit a fire in the stove and copied fair the day's log, recalling each mark and change of course since our dawn departure, many miles to the south.
Nautical chores complete, we shared a simple evening meal and a bottle of sturdy wine on the aft deck, while night raised up her jeweled veil and cast uncounted stars across the vault above us. Such little talk as seemed fitting for the scene soon died away and we fell quiet, as in a sacred place, and sat together in comfortable silence.
After some hours, or so it felt, the harsh croak and splash of a night-fishing heron broke into our thoughts and we shook off our reverie. We banked the fire in the stove, doused the cabin lights and crawled into our bunks, soothed to sleep by the quiet nighttime sounds from water and shore.
Asleep upon the Salish Sea, we dreamt of Raven, who placed the sun, the moon and the stars in the sky, and who whispers truths to all who will hear them.
Where is the cove in the picture? Reminds me of the entrance to Patos. Beautiful shot!