by Guy de la Valdene Woody Sexton and I sat next to each other in the stern of his wooden, sixteen-foot Nova Scotia skiff, waiting for the cloud that shaded the morning sun to pass. A soft grey mantle rested on the flat and there seemed little point in poling, so we waited—engine idling, the bow troubling the surface of the water—for the sun to escape and expose the flats surrounding Coupon Bight. It was June 8, 1969." Read on... | 
