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The sign on the gallery door read "Open Today at 11 a.m.". I should have known better. By the time we rounded Fog Island and headed out to the wild-looking ledges beyond, I had a pretty good idea I wouldn't be back by eleven. And what the heck, once we were out there, it was a straight shot across to Southern Mark Island, another wild, treeless, seabird-befouled rock in the middle of a big expanse of water.
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As we do these longer paddles, it feels like our boundaries are edging farther away, toward other groups of islands that once seemed far. We paddled for three and a half hours before our first break. An hour later we were back in Stonington. We saw no other kayaks, today.
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