We arrive in the night. A 32kph gale shoves sub-freezing air in our faces.
Twice we tumble, carrying bags, camera gear and complaining cat to the door.
Morning comes and the gale prevails. It’ll stop sometime, we say.
Golden hour. Winds are just as stiff. View is beautiful all the same.
This brief boardwalk spans a salt marsh that separates us from the Chesapeake bay. Blurred grasses bend in the wind.