We have run out of stream water, and on this island there is none. We spend the morning paddling to the mainland for a stream but find none. Setting out again to find water, I take note of the beached icebergs and think: 'There's fresh water!' We hack off some iceberg, strap it to the kayak and paddle back to the island, where I notice there are three icebergs that have been sitting on the beach there all along! I melt the iceberg in my stove, in novel necessity, and we make porridge and enjoy the glacial grit in our mouths. Waiting for Adventure Bound, 3:30pm pickup. Strange noises come in this harbour, whales bellow in the distance. We're just past slack low tide, Sand Spit is fully exposed. I keep looking to the horizon where the boat will appear in two hours.
I take a photo of my face, foreign to me now after days without reflection, and covered in grime. Hi me. We'll get you cleaned-up soon enough.
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