I arrived at Skull Creek late yesterday afternoon.
In preparation for the renovations, Carol and I moved everything, which wasn’t much, from the condo to the external storage closet. It took me about a half hour to move the bare essentials, such as the inflatable mattress and the martini shaker, back inside.
In my absence the carpet was removed exposing a heavily cracked 1” layer of concrete, a small section of which had also been removed, resulting in a pile of rubble. This did not bother me. I knew I was entering a construction zone.
I am told that a square foot of concrete 1” thick weighs 12 pounds. It is going to be replaced with two layers of ¾” plywood which I am told will weight 2 pounds per square foot. Over the plywood will go hardwood flooring which will add some weight, but basically we are going to take more than 7 tons out of this building.
I turned on the main water switch and the refrigerator, hoping it would make ice quickly enough to chill martinis. It did.
I moved one wicker chair from the screened porch, where we had stowed them under a cover. No work is going to be done there. Showered and then made a video call to Carol.
The welcoming sound of ice clunking into its catchment tray led me to the kitchen, and with the resulting martini, I took a Sportaseat and sat on the terrace.
The sun is decidedly farther north than it was when we left seven weeks ago. The tide was high. Water rippled by a light breeze and turning gold in the lowering sun was only fifteen or twenty yards away . The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees and moss.
I slept last night with the windows and doors open. I thought my sleeping bag might be too heavy, but a cool breeze blew in from the creek.
This morning I biked to the marina.
The necessary permits for the condo renovation have just been obtained. Serious work begins Monday, so I will be living aboard again starting Sunday.
Late afternoon again. I’ve been here twenty-four hours. The windows and doors are still open. Shorts and t-shirt weather. Sunny and in the 70sF/about 25C.
I had wondered if I would like it here as much as I remembered. I do.
————
The NY TIMES has an article, The Whisky Chronicles, of another island dear to my heart, 26º of latitude north and 75º of longitude east of Hilton Head: Islay, Scotland, home of Laphroaig and other fine, if inferior, single malt whiskies.
I did not know that more Scotch whisky is sold than that produced by the United States, Canada and Ireland combined. A rare sign of human intelligence.
Inexplicably the author did not visit Laphroaig.
————
