As soon as I heard of it, I became obsessed with making the trip to the Calf of Man, an even tinier, wilder, more remote island off the southern tip of the tiny, wild and remote Isle of Man. Only one man (Ray) will take visitors there, and the day we tried there was a terrible wind. But he had to go fetch the people who'd gone onto the island in the morning. (There's no place to sleep on the Calf.) On the first trip, Kathleen was scared and I was excited. Then Ray offered to take us a second time, free of charge, to pick up the last of the people on the island. The second trip, I was scared, soaking wet, and shivering several feet in each direction, it felt like, and Kathleen was excited. I can't express how cold it was in that wind, and how desperate I felt as we teetered over gigantic waves.