A paddler miscounted a thirty-second horn, convinced the beacon was off to starboard. Doubt crept in, strokes quickened, and conversation faded. The group stopped, reset the count together, and confirmed the sound was actually ahead. They shortened the crossing, slid into a sheltered cove, and waited out the thickest bank. Lesson learned: breathe, verify, and let a single reliable signal lead the next conservative decision.
Before the light itself appeared, a soft glow smeared the cloud ceiling like a promise. That faint loom suggested proximity to the harbor bar, closer than the charted distance implied under heavy mist. Rather than push through confused breakers on a dropping tide, the team hovered behind kelp, sipping warm tea and chatting with a returning fisherman on VHF. Slack arrived, the bar calmed, and entry felt wonderfully uneventful.
A pair of paddlers kept missing a narrow gap between rocks during ebb. They aligned a buoy and a notch in the cliff as a transit, spotted the sideways slide, and added a modest ferry angle. Progress looked slower but plotted true. After landing, they sketched the sequence in a logbook and invited comments from friends. Their next attempt needed fewer corrections, and confidence replaced nervous laughter with quiet smiles.