Carpet of iridescent green, writhing. A thin fog half-heartedly obscuring cliffs, solemn, battle ship grey with their longitudinal lines. Impressive, but the veil of mystery soon lifting, peeling back to show true blue.
This past wednesday, the caplin rolled onto the beach. Almost to the day they did last year (a month behind from years ago). Son Ezra first out at 6am to net a few. The ritual cooking up of a few on the Regal woodstove. Then such a fine day, I launched and paddled over to Hant's Harbour to let some friends know 'the caplin are in'.