Dawn couldn't come soon enough. I had lost all my bug spray in the Gulf of Mexico and hadn't replaced it before this trip. The night had been too warm to bury myself in my sleeping bag, so the 'skeeters ate me alive. Lon, owner of Quinn's Cove, had asked if I needed anything the night before, so I requested beer (of course) and we had put a pretty good dent in the supply. Jon and I were moving slow that morning. That cargo ship in the background would swing 180° on its cable with the changing of the tide.