I found Art Allen a few miles inland from some uninviting Connecticut beach. He was in his mid-60s at the time, a scientist with a man-of-action feel to him. He wore a Coast Guard Search and Rescue polo, a massive Fenix 3 GPS watch, and he had this snow-white Hemingway beard. Six canoes hung from hooks inside his garage, mountain bikes leaned against the wall, and all looked as if they had a lot of miles on them. So did he.

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