17.09.06
do you like boats? i've never really coveted boat owners. but today was such a beautiful day, a trip on the emerald ocean seemed just the perfect way to spend the afternoon.
charles is a kind, soft-spoken gentleman who invited me to test out his repaired motor on the boat someone gave him. its a little boat approx 10-12 ft. the motor is maybe 7 hp.
charles is retired & like many seniors has a love of fishing. he catches snapper, barracuda & other such delicacies, along the coast on the ocean. today, i was his muscle, putting the engine on the boat & being the designated driver. this allowed charles to enjoy a healthy hit of caribbean rum...
and off we went.

the trip into st john's harbour was very nice. the engine putted along nicely; charles grinned from ear-to-ear with his new aquatic mobility. we toured the occasional hulking mass that had lost the battle with hurricanes past. these large wrecks were driven onto the rocks where they died, sunk & left their own tombstones which was what remained above the surface of the water. charles was my tour guide & shared much incite. as the engine operator (& someone who is notoriously deaf) & after a few "pardon me's", i nodded, watched his lips moving, his hands gesturing & smiled as i pretended to hear him over the motor.
i wished i had brought my camera, but cameras & sea water don't mix, so it remained back at the launch site.

we looped back through the calm harbour. i kept watch as charles navigated me with his hands. i obeyed. as we approached the launch site, charles alerted me that he was going to show me a salt flat where he typically fishes. off we went, out of the harbour, past the launch & toward his favourite fishing spot.
i'm a bit timid on the water, but what do i know? the water ahead looked a bit rough. 'didn't it', i asked, but the hand signals drove us towards the salt flat, up the coast.
this was a new part of antigua for me. the coastline switched back & forth from rugged, rocks with crashing waves to small, sandy inlets. i admired the steep rock facings, craggy coastline, birds etc, wishing i had my camera but it was full-time work navigating the small boat through the growing swells.
umm. who put me in charge of steering on the ocean? i guess i looked like i knew what i was doing, hooking up the motor & all, but really i was learning as we went. i learned quickly that you gotta go nose first into larger swells. if they catch you sideways, the boat gets really unsteady...

around another massive rock facing & another. how much gas did we have? oh, a gallon?! i nodded...
we proceeded in the open ocean water, avoiding jutting rocks & keeping away from the violence of the waves meeting the shore.
how far was this fishing spot? oh, not far...
but the ocean & the water seemed a lot bigger here compared to the harbour. and i was feeling a lot smaller.
holding both the motor & the side of boat with my kung fu grip, i watched charle's hands as he guided me around the rocks. we were approaching shore - thank god (did i say that?). but i was suddenly feeling the navigation was a bit suspect because there were a lot of very shallow rocks. the water was deep, then shallow. the prop nicked a rock. we were surrounded. i quickly put up the motor.
charles pulled out the stick (what do i know? who needs an oar?) to manoeuvre around more rocks as we headed into shore.
suddenly, these really fricken big waves came up our a**, filled the back of the boat with water (giving me a soak) & it was either i stayed in the boat and it sunk or out i went...
so... i was out of the boat.

the water was a bit more than waist-high. but it was the combo of the waves & terrain that was my enemy now. was that the bottom of my shoe that just tore off from the sharp rocks, underfoot?
we made it to shore. the boat was half full of water, but we emptied it on the rough beach.
as we stood on the shore, i looked out at what appeared to me as a near-death experience. meanwhile. i was missing charles who was pointing to the salt flat, talking about how he strings his net & what kind of fish he can catch with it.
(a salt flat is a very small inlet that has a creek separating it & ocean. water comes in & out,
as do fish).
with the fishing tale concluded & the boat in the water at the mouth of the salt flat, we were ready to depart back... staring at the incoming surf, it was not a trip i was looking forward to.
but wait. the little boat motor stalled. then wouldn't start.
minor setback. after 20 or 50 pulls we're back in biz.

the trip back was rougher, still.
the beautiful coastline lost all its charm.
as the direction of the waves slowly filled the back of the boat, i watched as charles directed us. at this point we were in open water & it was something of a straight line. why was he pointing every 5 seconds?
the trip wasn't short. it gave me plenty of time to question why there were no life jackets or bailing can. and as i skinned my knuckles raw - scooping water out of the back of the boat as fast as i could - while gripping the motor for dear life as the atlantic ocean threw us around like a cork, i would occasionally look away from the rocks to see charles pointing in the same direction, over & over.

then it began. inside my head. like a broken record...
'doot-doot-do de doot-doot-do the minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost...'
for 20 minutes, i scooped furiously keeping the boat from joining those hulking masses in the harbour, watching for rocks & noting my guide as he broke his grip to point straight ahead again & again. 'doot-doot-do de doot-doot-do the minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost.'

'gee, that was kinda rough', i uttered as i looked at the 6 inches of water in the bottom of the boat. 'yeah, it was'.
but we were back. and i could actually relate to all those silly comedies showing the guy landing on shore, dropping to his knees & kissing the ground.
we made it.

charles finished his rum bottle, talked about how the little motor worked like a charm & made various plans for our future fishing expeditions.
i smiled, nodded, noted the sunburn 2 hrs in a boat on the ocean provides & rubbed the stiff neck one acquires when they spend close to an hour considering their impending doom.
but charles was engaged; his hands coordinating with the story he told. as his voice faded, as my mind drifted, it finally played out...
'...here on gilligan's isle.'