The land and sea meet uncertainly, salty blue ocean water giving way to thick hummocky estuary mud in a whisper of spent waves. The silt-laden waters of the Washington River snake out of the muck, pouring a fertile brown stain across the ocean. Sea birds with enormous wingspans wheel and cry like calligraphy against the sky. The long light wooden finger of the Independence Docks stretches out through a clear stretch of ocean with several small boats tied along it. It leads to a broad wooden platform of roughly split logs that's set on a patch of relatively dry ground and tethered against the lift of the tide. Upon this are some few wooden sheds and coils of rope, half-repaired boats and sailcloth. Crisp ocean scents struggle for dominance with brown organic decay and the smell of fresh woo