This was the last painting I did on this trip. I hadn't intended to paint at all. I was tired, having just spent a couple of hours painting cliffs on the other side of the island (see the previous post). Karen and Ann and I had been joined at the hip all week all painting together in the same spots with amazing unanimity. But that last morning they wanted to paint in town and I didn't. They were eager to paint charm: houses and gardens and peaceful pathways, but I was hungry for wildness and went in search of a cliff and a wave to smash against it. I only found the cliff but it satisfied a part of me and I painted happily for hours enjoying being alone for the first time in a week. When I returned I went looking for Karen and Ann and found them working on their second painting of the day at Fish Pier in town. There was barely an hour to go before dinner (5:45 sharp at The Trailing Yew) and the scene looked pretty boring to me: a flat late-day light on a calm harbor, but I wanted to be with them - painting together again after my solo adventure so I rushed back to the hotel for my gear and set up with about 45 minutes to paint. And then it caught me - the quiet shimmering light, the massive blue cloud on the horizon with a low light at my back, the gentle wave affectionately licking the shore, a solitary oarsman coming home.