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.
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.