The morning air had a pleasant crispness to it that had cleared the atmosphere of all haze and made for a startling clarity of vision. The wind was dead calm, and as I looked across the unmoving immensity of the salt marsh, it appeared as though it were a still life, a painting done by a master’s hand. Then the sun, rising from its watery bed of night, lifted its face above the treetops of Tybee Island, and cast a wave of golden light in a westward arc, enhancing and illuminating the sublime beauty of the natural scene until it was almost too much for mortal man to bear.

I stood mesmerized by the sight and thought, If it all came to an end today, if life has run its course and I were to breathe no more, the gift of being here, right now, would have paid for the trip in full.

Then the full body of old Sol heaved himself well above the green horizon, and the day was on. As I ate, the silence of the morning was broken only once by a boat full of sport fishermen. They waved in greeting as they passed by, and I returned the salutation. Soon they were out of sight, headed in the direction of Bull River and Wassaw Sound. I silently wished them good luck.

Finishing the last bite of sandwich and washing it down with a final slurp of coffee, I went below to the galley to wash and put away the pan and other utensils. While taking care of that chore I remembered that it was a Saturday and then determined what I would do with the day. Miss Rosalie had been tied to the dock for a while, and no self-respecting boat can stand that for very long. I would get her ready for action and treat us both to an excursion.

In the engine room I checked oil, transmission fluid, and engine coolant levels. A diesel engine will run almost forever if you give it clean air to breathe, clean fuel to burn, and clean oil to keep everything properly lubed. But diesel fuel loves water, so I drained several ounces from each of the three fuel filters to make sure there was no H2O in the system.

Happy that no liquids were where they shouldn’t be, I gave the engine and transmission the once-over, looking for leaks, drips, and loose hose fittings. The absence of any of those indicators of trouble made for a comforting feeling. The pre-ops check finished, I gave that magnificent Gardner engine a fond pat on top of the number three cylinder valve cover and went back above.