I came across Bubble’s two boats tucked into the trees of the Mire. One has the look of a working vessel, with rust on the hull, a mast overhead and lamps glowing through the cabin windows. The other takes a different course, carrying that familiar blue and white vault look down to the water.

The working boat has received most of his attention. There are platforms, machinery and enough rigging to keep a fellow looking up, while the cabin has been fitted out with an assortment of furnishings and curious decorations. I reckon finding room for it all took more care than that weathered hull first lets on.

Bubble’s attachment to the Mothman turns up in the things he makes, though that is a belief I cannot share. What I can appreciate here is his patience with an awkward shape. Mystic Boatyard feels like a place he has made his own, one railing, lamp and salvaged fitting at a time.