Tag: Mexico
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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,…
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Make a Splash
Last Sunday, 500 people swam from the mainland, past Habibi, to Deer Island. The annual migration began early, with a rhythmical splash on the portside. Ever vigilant to different noises, I saw a man freestyling by wearing goggles and towing a small bright orange inflatable. “A swimmer!” I thought. “Neato.” Then a panga motored by…
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Coven of Two
Hallowe’en is my favorite holiday. I love costumes, and roaming around at night. When I was thirteen, I dressed as a headless horseman in my mom’s velvet pants tucked into knee-high boots, with a black turtleneck covering my face. I carried a lit jack o’ lantern and strode the streets with my baby brother, tall…
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Flowers
“Is she pretty?” asked Rod Stewart. I’d just delivered a spray of dendrobium orchids to him from a fan across the room. We were in Wall Street, a Hollywood night spot I frequented to sell flowers. I shrugged. Beauty is subjective. He asked me to fetch her, so I walked back to the other side…
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Godspeed
“Godspeed,” wrote a friend recently, wishing me well on my journey. Upon reflection, I realized that the speed of god is not my speed. It is the speed at which things actually happen, whether I like it or not. Impatience is a strong suit: she runs me ragged and belittles self-care. Why aren’t you heading south already? Loser! I hate…
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On the Move
Sometimes you want to do something that scares the feces right out of you. All the meditation in the world cannot help Anxiety, who has taken up residence on your left shoulder and is screaming in your ear. You can barely remember what Calm felt like, and yet you really want to do this thing…
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Cruisin’
When I was a teenager, I had a Plymouth Valiant with a slant-six engine, which made it good for drag-racing. Four on the floor, baby. But my best friend liked to cruise. Slowly. I drove us all over our hometown of Santa Monica, as well as farther afield: Hollywood, Malibu, East L.A. We checked out…
essays by shé 