Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
Another perfect Caribbean morning with breakfast smells wafting from Jon’s labors over the propane boat stove. Today would be the second day of planned diving but I was opting out and sending the boys off on their own with the pros from BWD while I lazed indulgently on the boat. Remember when I mentioned that on Day1 I had fallen through an open hatch? Well, the fuller story on that is that I was probably lucky I didn’t actually break something. I went through the hatch with my right leg, twisting my left knee and landing hard on the hatch edge at the spot where my glutes meet my lower lumbars, mostly on the right side.
That left knee is the one I’d damaged a coupla times in the past and finally tore the meniscus a coupla years ago, resulting in ‘scope surgery which made it lots better but not perfect. Now that poor, old thing was twisted and swollen. My buttock/lumbar area which had slammed into the hatch edge was very swollen and sore. The first coupla days, I stuck a constant stream of ice packs into the rear of my waistband and borrowed a coupla Vicodin from Jon to help me sleep. Given all that, our two snorkels on Day2 and our two dives on Day3 had really worn me out because I use all those muscles significantly when kicking with fins. In addition to the dives scheduled for this day, we were planning a night dive the following day. I decided that I’d rather skip these day dives and have some energy for the night dive rather than wear myself out so completely from three days of kick-cycles in a row that I’d be too sore to do the night dive.
Night dives are exciting and we were planning one on the wreck of the Rhone. Remember the movie The Deep with Jacqueline Bisset in a wet T-shirt? The underwater scenes for that movie were filmed on the Rhone. I didn’t wanna miss that. It’s a very cool wreck. And did I mention this would be a NIGHT dive? Oh yeah!
So, when BWD showed up, I waved to the boys from the cockpit of Kokomo as they sped off to dive without me. Sniff. They grow up so fast.
I basically spent the morning napping, icing my ass, reading a bit, and just enjoying some quiet time in a beautiful, little anchorage. From what I hear, the fellas dove Soldier’s Bay and Black Forest, famous for its dense colony of black coral, which is now endangered as a result of its popularity as jewelry. I do wish I’d gotten to see that. But as for specifics, you’ll hafta bug Jon and Ben because I wasn’t there.
I sit here now, on the morning of 3 July 2011, with a house full of still-sleeping teens, preparing for our annual Fourth of July festival at the beach, breakfasting on a miniBabyRuth, planning our food contribution for tomorrow’s extravaganza, thinking about making brunch for the gang, but nonetheless, calmly at peace within myself, revisiting that lovely, quiet morning on the water, smelling the salt air, listening to the wind whispering to the rigging and the waves caressing the hull with gentle slaps, seeing the blue of the sky, the green of the land, the blue of the ocean, and the white of the beach sand, and feeling infinite and eternal.
Now would be a good time for me to mention that Jon has blogged about the trip here and posted his photos here. I highly recommend that you visit both places.
Once the boys returned, showered off both themselves and their gear with fresh water, and had some lunch, we decided to head to Cooper Island for two reasons: 1. Little Harbour is a VERY protected anchorage, a little too protected from the cooling breeze, and 2. We needed ice and the guide books said Cooper had ice for sale. We could have obtained ice around the corner on Peter but that complex is currently owned by the Amway assholes and I didn’t wanna give them any business, even the price of a coupla bags of ice. Besides, I had really enjoyed Cooper during past cruises through the islands and was looking forward to sharing a painkiller with the guys.
So we hauled anchor, smoothly and competently I might add, and raised sails, still smooth and competent!, and headed on over to Cooper Island. A bunch of tacking later, we dropped sails and motored to the mooring field, looking for an open ball. Hmmm, pretty damned popular here today. Finally spotted the last available ball and put the pedal to the metal to beat another boat to it. Sorry! Settled in.
Cooper used to be just a beach shack kinda bar run by a coupla guys and their large Rhodesian Ridgeback; but that was a decade and more ago. Now, it’s trying hard to be an upscale resort. We ambled up to the fancy bar to pay for our mooring and buy ice. Barkeep said, “No ice. Maybe in the morning.” I’ll tell you now, out of chronological order, that there was no ice on the morrow, either. Fuckers. Therefore, we didn’t grace them with any of our dollars for their damned yuppie painkillers. We’d get some somewhere else.
Not much else to say about this day. Another lovely dinner by Jon, some pleasant alcoholic beverages, a beautiful sunset, and the coming of Mother Nox with her entourage of stars.
Tomorrow would be our night dive on the wreck of the Rhone, first ever night dive for the guys, first night dive for me on the Rhone. Something to dream about.