Open sea, the boat bending to the wind so you are sitting in your seat actually standing on the seat across from you due the list of the boat. Wind, spray, chop of the waves, all added up to wanting to scream out something with the word 'arg' in the middle of the sentence. This was the only way to do this land justice.
As we cruised the coast, large catamarans passed us with loud music and people dancing on their deck. Like it was a mission to go from here to there, where ever there was. Ours, well, after the first cove, I could feel myself relax and after some snorkeling and more coves, I could feel myself composing a letter in my head to my boss, telling him I fell and broke my back in three places and would not be back to work---ever.
Cap'n Nash, or 'Cap'n' to his new close friends, even allowed me to steer. The man had to set anchor and this little boy got to take the helm. "Aye aye Cap'n," I said with a very good English accent and a tip o' me cap with just the index and thumb fingers. I even had a twitch developing in one eye like it needed to be covered with a patch. I did so well, he let me moor it coming back. Standing at the tiller, mist and spray in my eyes, my hat turned backwards, awaiting orders from Cap'n standing on the bow, fearful of doing something that would put him in the water and absolutely no ability to turn and get him. Fearful images of the boat sailing off until it hit something solid to stop it, like the gulf coast of Texas.
It was a grand day. Sailing like I'm sure some ancient ancestor of mine did when they went across Saguaro Lake.
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