Luka and I wandered down to Coyote Rock in the back 40. We cross the field and followed a deer trail up a dense moss laden hillside to Booty Cove – as named by Maryke when she rebuilt it in 2005. That summer for Cabin Crawl, she dressed like a pirate, installed a sail, a skull and cross bones flag and served some sort of filthy grog, electric blue jello shooters in a deep baking dish that had so much alcohol, it never set. I remember people just scooping it out by hand and eating it. There were a lot of bad pukes that night.Tibeau really gussied it up this summer. He’s left it as a nice, midday reading lounge. He slept here for a few weeks with just a sleeping bag and a tarp overhead. It juts out over a cliff and feels like the most remote camp spot on the farm.