I drag the dinghy down the dune to the beach. The water lies so calm only an occasional ripple slurps ashore. I set my knapsack on the bow seat and shove off, the scrape of the hull on the sand giving way to the thump and creak of oars in the stillness. I ghost out toward our catboat. When I turn around to check my course, I see her lolling on her mooring as if sleep-walking. A great black-back gull, standing atop an exposed rock, chortles as I pass.