Super

Audrey Kayak can carry provisions, even when swamped. The first excursion proved quite exciting when we rolled in choppy surf. I fell out and quickly stood and grabbed her nose handle, pulling her to shore. The only other thing that escaped the boat was the water bottle, which I rapidly retrieved.

After I caught my breath, Rocinto, a hobie-cat sailor for fifteen years, helped me carry her above the high tide line and offered to watch her while I shopped. The walk inland did me good, as the adrenaline drained away by the time I found a frutería with good produce. 

The second excursion was calmer. I’m at the Stone Island anchorage now, which is closer to shore, so I didn’t have to paddle as far. Audrey seems to like to surf, though, going along the wave and threatening to roll again, but I quickly put a stop to that with the paddle. Perpindicular, please!

I hopped out in knee-high water before the next set of waves, and dragged her up the sandy beach. Then I cabled her to a post and strolled down the sleepy streets, until… that’s a familiar bass line… hunh, that’s very loud music for seven o’clock in the morning… a bicyclist with a boom box appears, peddling toward me, “Super Freak” at high volume. An older, grizzled guy in reflective shades nods when I throw him a shaka.

You never, ever, know what’s going to happen. 

Back at Habibi, I offload the chicken and eggs and bananas and tortillas onto the portside deck, where the swim ladder is attached. I have taken to leaving the ladder out ever since I threw myself overboard after the impeller filter last week and had a helluva time getting back on board. I was almost able to rappel up her stern with a short rope — almost, but not quite. Several times. Thirty minutes later, a fishing panga motored by and I called for help. Nice guys, but they think I need a compañero, especially at night. Sigh.

The open ocean beckons to the south, and courage is returning. I took apart the helm recently to fix the reverse gear, and adjusted the throttle while I was at it. I love me a manual transmission, and an older boat (1979, baby). I like figuring things out.

Yes, sometimes I wake up after a particularly rolly night in a big swell, and think, wow this is hard. Then I watch the sunrise while drinking calendula tea and eating Jhony tortillas with raspberry-pomegranate jam, and simply think, Yes.