"C'mon, Jim, we are going to Starfish Beach, you wanna come along?"
"Sure, which boat?"
"Carlos's".
"Meetcha there."
"Hey girls, let's go to the beach."
"OK"
We met on Isla Carenero. The boat owner, far cry from any sort of Captain, a 55 year old Uraguan, Mauricio a white haired, white bearded Argentinian Santa Claus who spent 16 years hitchhiking and sleeping under bridges, 45 year old Belgian Chris, 30 something year old Alejandra, hailing from Spain, 30 something Nadia from Argentina, 24 year old Melissa (Mel) from Thailand and 24 year old Jennifer from Belgium and I boarded the boat. I tied my skiff behind her.
We motored slowly in the thrice sunk hull. It never fully sank, but water rose over the tops of the counters in the galley. Through hull fittings, bud, you have to watch this stuff.
At Starfish Beach Nadia wanted me to take her to bird Island. Mel and Jen wanted to go. Mauricio wanted to come. I don't know whether he was more strongly motivated by never having seen these rocks that jut up out of the open water with near vertical cliffs and opening straight though that have been eroded by the pounding waves or the fact that I was taking every single woman with me.
Five aboard a 15 foot skiff powered by a 15 HP outboard. Maybe a foot of freeboard. Not a life jacket, fire extinguisher, flare, whistle, or anchor. Bocas perfect. Around the point and into the swells. Boats flip over out there all the time. It's June, just exercise caution and don't let the engine fail me.
Struggling uphill, speeding downhill, pointing into the swells. Forty minutes later we made it. Everyone aboard was enraptured. I idled in the calmer waters leeward, they took pictures then we headed back. Nadia, admitted that she had been scared shitless.
We motored back. Carlos has never put this boat under sail. Nor can he dock it, nor tie a knot, he doesn't even know how to wrap a cleat. I showed the girls how to tie an overhand knot, a square knot, a bowline, a clovehitch, a sheet bend, a figure eight knot and an overhand knot, just the simplest most often useful knots.
Chris took the helm and docked the boats while Alejandra and I handled the lines. I headed home, suspicious of the amount of gas I had. Certainly enough to get home, questionable on making the return.
"Sure, which boat?"
"Carlos's".
"Meetcha there."
"Hey girls, let's go to the beach."
"OK"
We met on Isla Carenero. The boat owner, far cry from any sort of Captain, a 55 year old Uraguan, Mauricio a white haired, white bearded Argentinian Santa Claus who spent 16 years hitchhiking and sleeping under bridges, 45 year old Belgian Chris, 30 something year old Alejandra, hailing from Spain, 30 something Nadia from Argentina, 24 year old Melissa (Mel) from Thailand and 24 year old Jennifer from Belgium and I boarded the boat. I tied my skiff behind her.
We motored slowly in the thrice sunk hull. It never fully sank, but water rose over the tops of the counters in the galley. Through hull fittings, bud, you have to watch this stuff.
At Starfish Beach Nadia wanted me to take her to bird Island. Mel and Jen wanted to go. Mauricio wanted to come. I don't know whether he was more strongly motivated by never having seen these rocks that jut up out of the open water with near vertical cliffs and opening straight though that have been eroded by the pounding waves or the fact that I was taking every single woman with me.
Five aboard a 15 foot skiff powered by a 15 HP outboard. Maybe a foot of freeboard. Not a life jacket, fire extinguisher, flare, whistle, or anchor. Bocas perfect. Around the point and into the swells. Boats flip over out there all the time. It's June, just exercise caution and don't let the engine fail me.
Struggling uphill, speeding downhill, pointing into the swells. Forty minutes later we made it. Everyone aboard was enraptured. I idled in the calmer waters leeward, they took pictures then we headed back. Nadia, admitted that she had been scared shitless.
We motored back. Carlos has never put this boat under sail. Nor can he dock it, nor tie a knot, he doesn't even know how to wrap a cleat. I showed the girls how to tie an overhand knot, a square knot, a bowline, a clovehitch, a sheet bend, a figure eight knot and an overhand knot, just the simplest most often useful knots.
Chris took the helm and docked the boats while Alejandra and I handled the lines. I headed home, suspicious of the amount of gas I had. Certainly enough to get home, questionable on making the return.
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