Sunday 3 Sept

Early this sunny morning, we left Rogues' Roost and the sleeping boats behind, heading for Lunenburg. With a small wind on the nose, we motored all the way over a glassy sea, the horizon barely marked as a shaded line.

A gull stood on a bobbing carcase, pecking at the gray, scarred skin. Impossible to tell what it was - but seemed too small for a seal.

And off Pearl Island, towards the entrance to Lunenburg, we crossed our outward bound line of three months' earlier. It felt - a completion? A memory? Surreal?