My legs are hairy. I hate hairy legs. I feel like a hippy. But I am not. Today I shave. It’s muggy, salty, sticky. The sky is gray and a light breeze is keeping my body at a tolerable temperature. And for that, I am thankful. I even managed to drink my coffee without immediately sweating it all out.
We spent two days at Norman’s Cay snorkeling an old plane crash from the 80’s, and exploring the island’s wasteland. It’s hard to comprehend how full of life the water is, yet the moment you step on land there is absolutely nothing. A couple stray cats who look like they have rabies, lizards that move too quick to catch a good glimpse, and plant life that would more accurately be labeled plant death. The land at Normans was almost creepy. An empty airstrip and several houses run down to their foundation. But the the sea life, abundant. Swimming in and out of the plane’s exit window beneath the surface, daring each other to swim through holes and under wings, waiting for someone’s skeleton to float out of a dark hole…fascinating.
Later, Nick, Hillary, Katie and I found a tiny island, and officially claimed it as our own. With a nice warm bottle of Captain Morgan, we played like children for hours. Talking about life, how we got here, where we are going, where we come from. Dynamic conversation during which the speaking- to-listening ratio was completely equal. It was one of the more enjoyable evenings in my life. I think we can all confidently say we will never forget it.
Yesterday we made a 21 mile trek from Normans Cay to Warderick Wells. Prevailing winds this time of year are out of the East or Southeast. They were strong and gusty out of the SE, which was exactly the direction we were trying to go. Of course. It was a wind on the nose, waves crashing over the bow, motor-boatin, wet and salty kind of day. We cruised in our birthday suits, blasted the music to distract us from the uncomfortable ride, and set up our best friend Patrick (our Simrad auto-tiller) to do all the work. Wow that thing is amazing. It’s like having another human on board. Who doesn’t talk. Which is great.
At one point in the afternoon, my hangover was begging me to eat a can of chile. Both of us had avoided going down below all day because of how rough it was, but my tummy was desperate. I clung on for dear life, and dug out a rusty can of turkey chile. Our can opener, on it’s last leg, busted half way through opening. Oh no, all we have left is canned food, and I just broke the can opener. I used the opposite side of the can opener to puncture small holes around the edge of the can, with plans to finish the job. Soon I was holding a death machine. The can was now completely ripped apart with sharp metal pieces spiking out of the top. Don’t forget how rough the weather is okay? Still hanging on for dear life, the can turned into a barracuda and was now hunting me. Red chile was starting to spray and fall everywhere but into my bowl. Katie cannot stop laughing. I am unbelievably frustrated. When I finally got a small portion out of the death can, I cursed what was left and threw it in the ocean. On my way back to the cockpit, I tripped on a rug and flung forward as we hit a wave. The chile, remained in the bowl and I think I caught it in mid-flight. Katie was still laughing. I was still not smiling. By the time I finally got the chance to eat it, I was so pissed at that chile it didn’t even taste good.
Louise and Tara picked up mooring balls at Warderick Wells. Not necessarily the most protected mooring field, but we were tired, and in no mood to re-locate. Typically 15 dollars a night, the volunteer who maintains the field, didn’t seem to have a care in the world if we paid or not. I do not know what is in store for the day. I presume we will snorkel some reefs, and explore land. There is a place here called “boo-boo hill” where boaters etch their names into driftwood and add it to an ongoing pile at the island’s highest peak. Yes, that is where we will go.