essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: bravery

  • Lost & Found

    Plop. Oh my god. The phone dropped in the water. I stare a moment in disbelief, then jump in after it. Straight down, I think. Look straight down. But I don’t see it among the rip-rap rocks below Dock 8, under the tied up kayak. My heart is pounding and my breathing shallow. I can’t stay down long and can’t see…

  • Shift

    I am biking from Venice to my job in Santa Monica as office manager for an animation studio. I am pedaling fast as usual, intent on the destination, not the journey. It’s an old ten-speed, with lever gearshifts set below the handlebars. After gaining momentum, I shift up, and the lever breaks off. The piece…

  • BE

    “What do you do all day?” The question comes from an older female paddleboarder while I’m on deck readying the kayak for an excusion to the swimming hole. The question irritates me, just as when a marina-mate asked it in Mazatlán. “I’m a writer,” I reply, tying Audrey’s line to the blue halyard so I…

  • Bay Life

    What’s all that racket? I close the laptop and get up to look. Are the anchorage neighbors working on boat projects again? Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound reverberates through the hull. I open a hatch and peer out. To the south a whale slaps her giant fin on the surface of the bay. Then her compatriot splashes…

  • A New Year

    I arrived on Kaua’i January 1, 2020, and rolled my purple carry-on straight to the beach, after catching a hotel shuttle to Kalapaki. The sea! It had been months since I immersed, and longer since I’d surfed. My swimsuit was in the outside pocket, and I changed under my clothes. Boots off, socks off, body…

  • A Swell Xmas

    A big swell arrived for Xmas, and I had to move to a safer anchorage. I realized this when I found myself looking up at the ocean while securing Audrey on deck. Sweet Jesus! We are outta here!  It’s a tricky thing, hauling anchor while the wind and ocean push you toward shore. I don’t recommend it.…

  • Solstice

    When I was twelve or so, Z Budapest invited my mother and me to a winter solstice gathering of her coven. She had a small store in Venice that Mom and I visited occasionally. Z was tall and confident, with short white hair and a welcoming smile. “It would be good to have a nymph…

  • Trust

    Slap! Slap! Slap! Twenty times the whale slaps her mighty tail on the surface of the sea, and I laugh in wonderment. She is about a mile to the west as Habibi motorsails south, and when she is certain she has my attention (twenty more slaps), she leaps completely out of the water. Evidently heading…

  • Depth

    The depth-sounder reads 4.3 feet. Habibi’s draft is 4.6. Had we run aground? I was so close to the marina, sailboats only a few yards away. I turn and gun the throttle. Are we moving? The water churns with mud. More throttle. Slowly, slowly, yes. Hallelujah. When I hauled anchor at Isla Isabela, single-handed, without…

  • Comfort Zone

    “Go simple. Go solo. Go now.” – Audrey Sutherland, Paddling North I wasn’t exactly solo. I was in radio contact with a kindly buddy boat for a lot of the voyage south. But I was definitely single-handing Habibi — the only human on board. And it was great! I knew what to do and when to…