This bunker was intended to scan the Strait west of Agate Bay for enemy ships. While it was never used in anger, it still makes for a good view of the shipping lanes, and is a good walk besides. It gets a little denser each year and the trails a little more uncertain but the bluffs are impressive at 275 vertical feet. I do get nervous with the dogs at the precipice, one false lab-tard move or a little groundwater destabilization and it’s all over except for a brief bit of ass over teakettle.
Like everything else, the scope of threat devolves with age. The view of the Strait is altogether whole. Even including the threat of mudslides, windstorms and dogs, tripod and geezer stumbling into the void Comfort is completely unreliable without discomfort to cross-pollinate it, make it ripen.
With the used condoms and beercan-festooned shrubs, there’s a sort of a wry utilitarian romance to the place up here in the fall. My admiration for love can only grow more tender with the evidence that people think enough of each other to slog all the way up here to do their business in all this cold and dark.