He’d seen it a few times on satellite photos and it hadn’t seemed all that far from the mainland, but then on the boat it had felt like it was impossibly far, like they’d never get there, especially when they’d sailed out of sight of Michigan. Like he’d been chasing something imaginary, like he was Don Quixote tilting at windmills. Now that he could see the shore somewhat clearly through his binoculars, it was suddenly real again.