Under No Power But My Own

A great pond, a black clouser, my grandfather's rowboat

With a tropical storm warning in place, I took it upon myself—for work—to row across a salt pond to a barrier beach to relocate some boundary markers and a wind sock. They needed to be in line with the stakes left by the surveyor I’d met with earlier in the week, and I wanted to beat the weather. There are ways to access the beach without crossing the p…