There is no quiet like the dawn. When darkness clings to its last hour all sounds cease as if God has pressed his finger to his lips, and a solemn hush surrounds me. The clock reads 4:45am as I gaze across the Wye River. A full moon casts a pale glow, and I can perceive only the dark and light shadows of crab boats rummaging in the coves. It is my favorite time.It is boat moving day. We have kept Kiwi here on the Wye during summer, but
hurricane season has arrived and it is time to seek the protection of our slip up the Eastern Bay. As I savor my last drops of coffee an orange luminance grows on the horizon. Still working in darkness I prepare the boat coiling spring lines, removing hatch covers, and checking engine fluids. Soon Jeanne emerges from the house and ambles to the dock rubbing sleep from her eyes.
When we cast off the dock lines the heavens are ablaze in anticipation of sunrise. We ghost down the river above the low rumble of our diesel deep in the hull. I spy the moon still hung in the western sky as full light breaks to the East.
As we round the lighthouse two rays swim past the transom. Gulls cry from the buoys. Morning has broken. By 8:00am we have tied up and our day can begin.
