        Eventually, South Fox Island came into view.  It wasn’t much to see; a small hump of green with an iron light tower.  Now that he had a good fix on his location, he altered his course northward.  His paddle strokes were long and even; he was in a nearly hypnotic state.  This was a familiar route for him.  He had been going out to the island a couple of times a year since 2000, when it was sold back to the state.  Even though he didn’t have permission to camp, he knew that no one was likely to know.