Story

At the edge of the continent, where the Pacific Ocean meets the wooded ridges of Bolinas, morning fog clings to the coyote brush and thrush songs filter through the Douglas firs. Here, the apprentices have begun their morning circuit at the Palomarin Field station. The nets are set before first light, stretching like silk threads […]

As we approached aboard the Salty Lady, the Farallon Islands rose like ghosts out of the Pacific: jagged, fog-bound sentinels. Their granite flanks were streaked white with guano, and the wind carried the sharp cry of seabirds over the swell. With no dock or landing beach, we loaded onto a small skiff and were hoisted