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  • The cove reveals itself as does a gray clapboard cape high on the bluff above us with a ragged Danish flag flapping in the breeze. A sign states the obvious: private property above, public beach below. Respect privacy. Surprise! We have just trekked through a primeval forest, going back in time expecting pirate ships maybe, whales, frigate birds, don't know what, but this took some adjusting. First thing I thought was: "We have walked to Denmark four hundred years ago". First thing I said was:
    " You mean there's a road?"

    It looked like it had been here for centuries, an ancient salt water farm, weather worn. A small barn/shed near the house and maybe sheep in the barn across the cove. A fisherman's home, maybe but the tides are dramatic here so any mooring would have to be strong. No dock in sight but something ugly in the water at low tide. This is an unassuming working place or this is what we are supposed to think.

    On closer inspection this was not a working place. There is not sign of life or living. The small barn near the house has screen doors like a guest house. The road, which I now remember seeing on our last trip in this area, is marked private and runs several miles parallel the shore. There is no sign of life, just the tattered Danish flag and this is not Denmark. Damn.
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