Sail boat

How I love the sun!! Even more, is being near water when in the sun!! A sunny day lacks completion without a river, ocean, beach towel, picnic, friends or family, wine, and a barbecue to finish! I am missing the sun even more so these days, after having been truly spoilt with a 2 month holiday through Central and South America...now that is what I call sun!! I don't think I have been as tanned as I was on that holiday since I was a child, and miraculously turned into an Islander the moment summer hit, due to having the careless freedom of youth to waste away hours outside. Tans aside, the holiday itself was incredible. One of my favourite parts was a week sail boat cruise around the San Blas Islands, in the Caribbean. Now I do realise that the minute I mention the words sail boat cruise certain images are brought to one's mind. A large glamorous yacht, glorious fresh seafood, sail boat staff to wait on one, hand and foot, lazing hammocks...these images however, need not be conjured up in relation to our sail boat adventure. Picture, if you will, a very tiny, shouldn't-be-more-than-a-two-man, yacht. It 's weathered wooden frame is partly disguised by a half finished, home-made paint job. The sails themselves look tired and sagging. Everything about this boat, from the cutlery in the kitchen, to the thin, foam mattresses, is old, and re-done, again and again. This boat has been attacked by the most enthusiastic of self-made handymen...and it shows!

The cruise began, for my husband, my brother, and myself during dinner the night before our sea departure, when we met our German Sea-captain for the first time. Stephan. Tall, tanned, and all leg's and arms, he seemed friendly enough. His biggest concern, when discussing with us the impending voyage, was that we bought as much alcohol as possible before the only shop, in the small village we were staying, shut. We were to disappoint him with our alcohol purchases, as dinner, being of much more importance to us at the time, meant we didn't quite get to the shop before closing. Arriving early the next morning, as agreed upon, we sat on the shoreline for 20 minutes awaiting the arrival of our Sea-captain, who had slept in. Now admittedly, we should have recognised, the moment we saw Stephan paddle out to us, in the smallest, most dingy looking dingy we had ever seen, and try to convince us it would hold all four of us and our two months worth of luggage in one trip, that the cruise was not going to be the luxury affair we had dreamed of. But our imaginations, at this point, had been given much more time to conjure luxury, than reality had been given to hit. Thankfully, for the sake of our dry selves, and our luggage, a couple, who I am assuming, owned the larger, luxurious yacht next to the one we ourselves were about to embark, lent us their deluxe model, motor powered dingy, and we arrived at our sail boat not the least bit waterlogged. We were later to discover, that our suspicions about the overestimated weight in the small dingy, were correct, as we found ourselves very wet, and with a ruined camera, which apparently does not like sea water, when trying to paddle back from one of the islands, and this journey having been done baggage -free.

Once aboard, we met Stephan's lovely girlfriend, Mika, also German, and also, all legs and arms. After a cup of tea, we set sail. The next eight hours of this day were spent leaning over the side of the tiny yacht emptying the previously drunk tea from my stomach, as a gift to the ocean. And all I can remember about the day is being offered some marijuana to cure my sea-sickness. At this point, I realised we were in good hands with our stoned Sea-captain Stephan, in full control!

Our voyage over the next week, was most certainly eventful. We saw the most beautiful, deserted, islands which literally took one's breath away due to their picturesque divinity. We laughed at many a conversation had with our consistently stoned Captain, who loved to share his life theories, as only one thinking through a cloud of drugs can do. Our bodies became hideously eaten, as never before, by the invisible blood suckers hiding on the beaches at night. Discovering Stephan had quite a temper, the boys exercised their best negotiating skills, to ensure we would be able to have our money's worth of snorkelling and spear-gun-fishing fun. We caught fish. We ate fish. Of both the smallest and largest variety. Some fish, melting in our mouths like honey, some, mostly of the smaller variety, hard to find amongst the mouthful of bones. Not being prepared for one particular night's meal, Stephan bartered with a local from one island we stopped at, to buy and cook us a dry root, which tasted something akin to tree-bark, covered in sauce, telling us it was a cultural experience. We politely obliged his theory, and agreed, it most certainly was. We enjoyed cupful's of Mika's tea. And we lazed about on the beach or boat, sunning ourselves, and competing to be the most brown.

Is life not also like this sail boat journey. Full of times when the journey is rough and we are being chucked around seemingly unsure of where we are going, or if we are even heading in the right direction, vomiting over the side, praying for it to be over. Time's when we are unsure, not confident in our sail boat captain. When sometimes his theories on life make no sense at all, and he is seemingly speaking out of a cloud. Times when we feel we have been eaten alive and the pain, is unbearable, it is all we can see or feel. It is all we can think about. Yet there are also those other times, when the beauty of life simply takes your breath away. When there is nowhere else you would rather be. When everything around you seems perfect and you wouldn't change it for anything.

The thing that made my journey on the sail boat the joy that it was, was not only the experience itself, but those I was able to share it with, my husband and my brother. Life, and any journey, whether horrific or divine, is made what it is, by those who walk it with you.