The Totem is ready. And it only needed somewhere between 500 - 600 man-hours. We’re loaded with gear and supplies for the fishermen already over in Bristol Bay - oil drums, lumber, big plastic totes of groceries, even an outhouse. I haven’t quite figured that one out yet. But the crew is fired-up to get busy doing what we came here to do. After the five days it takes just to steam there, we’re doing 45 more on the Bay, a place with a rugged, renegade reputation and only about a jillion miles from anywhere. The rumor goes that some crazy tele-pioneer put a cell phone tower out there once, but it inevitably came down in a storm and no one else is crazy or stupid enough to go fix it. Anyway, if I’m out of touch for a couple of months, y’all know why. The guys out there are hardcore, so goes the other rumor. My crew is a little bit hardcore too. The guys have been keeping me up with some all-hours shenanigans the last couple of nights, spending some quality time at the Salty Dawg, a dead ringer for the cantina at Mos Eisley Spaceport from Star Wars. Well, except for the lighthouse. 
Anyway, while we’re on the beach it’s none of my business, and I’m operating under the assumption that all will be chill while we’re offshore. But I told the owner that if I once sense my welfare in jeopardy, I’m bouncing in a hot second. This job is hard enough. I have everyone else’s welfare in mind with the moves I make, and I only expect the same. All that said, I’m pretty fired-up. Hopefully we’ll return to the Spit and the Salty Dawg in heroic, Homeric fashion. Here we go…