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We are
going to San Pedro on the Sailboat.
"how long will it take" I ask,
"As long as it takes " he answers..
and so it is with sailing....
As I sit and wait to see how long it will take
the Cockatoo Archimedes rests on my leg
his grey clawed feet make no impression
for he weighs only ounces
he has...
beautiful feathers
white,
tipped with salmon and
a bit of yellow
a fearsome beak
I wonder
what if he had to walk around naked
what if he had to bare his naked,wrinkly body
for all to see
would he want a little suit of clothes.
Once,
these mountains
were forced up through the earth
like great fighting fists
the ocean
roiling,bubbeling
frothy
the insides of the earth now out
bunched,stretched
twisted,pitched
now
they seem to
placidly sit
on top of the water
Walking on the shore
I was surprised to see cow dung
and wondered about
the scrawny, hardy cattle
that scrounge around
in that harsh desert
and the sinewy, rugged vaqueros
who look for them on their
skinny,raw-boned horses
I also see racoon tracks, coyote tracks
marks of birds of different sizes
crabs and beetles.
and an ant hole..
I watch them
tell them
"you are so far away
out here by yourselves."
We
want to be helpful,
we want to tidy up the beach,
remove the carelessly thrown plastic bottles
and other junk humans use
off of the
the little strip of land between the dryness
and the water. |
As we
sail away
a female sea lion folows beside us for miles and miles
the captain has a fantasy
it is
a mermaid
lovely and tapered on
both ends.
It takes so long to sail
it
can mesmerize..
then
jolting you out of your stupor
a loud grating noise
on the bottom of the boat
then again
something beneath
the water
scraping
the place where you stand
unsettling,
disturbing the
security between
you and the sea
the
anchor has come loose
the chain wrapped around the propeller
we are near shore
and rocks
into the cold water armed with knife
and adreniline
One
day we see
porposes
acres of them
we love their childlike faces
their happy frolicking
they delight us
being self-important humans
they must like us too.
Bees
thirsty bees and wasps
but they do not follow us to
the top of hills
which were once the bottom
we walk on
fossils,
bones
shells, and shells
and shells
A town
a museum
dusty roads
a store where we buy bananas which never ripen but become rock hard
two boat ramps
where small trucks pull large pangas
over the rocky ramps
tires destroying themsleves
in blue-grey smoke |
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While
the cattle
and wild animals
and those humans
who roam the
thorny, scratchy desert
scorching,
dry
thirsty,
hunger-driven
all hunting
for water,
food
in the night
or
the color-bleaching hot sun.
Out on
the water
who does'nt love to see
the Pelicans
skim the water almost writing on the surface with the tips of wings
then rise
to fly along the side of cliffs their shadows
following
in a wavy line
the
Captain likes to sail
so..
out comes the spinaker
but as it goes up
it twists ,
stuck
we try to fix it
there are ropes with no ends
all tangled
we pull it the length of the boat
we untwist
and two hours later
the wind has gone to find other boats
we sit
I suggest we motor
"if I wanted to motor
I'd buy a stinken' stink potter."
So I
busy myself looking at the ocean
sparkeling in the afternoon
I think about the documentarys I have seen of the beautiful
creatures in the ocean
I look hard
are they really there?
below and for as far as I can see and more?
just below that 'membrane'
that separates
where they can live
and I can't.
It is
so easy to watch the water and think how lovely
the colors
so varied
the smell clean and salty
it covers so much of our big round home
it makes us possible.
but then
it is feirce
it is unforgiving |
A sail in the fog to see thousands and thousands of birds
terns and gulls
the smell was strong but not too bad
noise was everywhere
of moms,dads
small fuzzy babies
who grow up to fly
to far way places
to then come back and make noise and smell and babies.
for years and years
why that little island??
we were met on the rocky shore
by a tall, slender young woman
who asked me
why do you sail?
isn't it obvious?
the adventure,
the unknown
the beauty
the questions
having to realize
that we are not the center.
A walk
in the desert
again
down a dusty road,
more small, twisted,
thorny, leafless, water hungry
desert plants
we
approch some small buildings
some say it is a restaurant
we walk through an empty room into the kitchen
two people sitting
on either side of a cement table
placidly
could they serve 20 people?
the
dinner
under a porch
looking out
at the ocean
a huge blue
that fills
the mind
we never seem to tire looking at
The
next morning we left for home..
big waves, winds
I think about the 20 hours
that it will take to get
somewhere
the captain wants to sail because
"that is what we do"
so all day
in the waves he
pulls up sails,
takes them down
the pole is put out
taken down
sheets are winched tight |
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rough.
it's unnrelenting chaos
can pull you in
add you to the
bones resting on the bottom
or wash you up
on the shore
with the other empty shells.
Hiking
in the thorny,dry, rocky desert
up a hill to see the ocean on the other side
back down
an antelope jackrabbit
galloping
a barrel cactus cut open to give someone water
a snake skin
little pink flowers on a skinny-stemed, leavless bush
small tissue like bundles holding seeds
hanging on dried up trees...
then
after the thorns that scratched
the sun that burned
a bright orange moon comes up
right out of the water.
One
night
the wind blew
it screamed throguh the shrouds
the boat pulled at its tethers.
In the
morning
we sailed fast
to the Chuckwalla Island.
The sea lions are
on the rocky beach
barking,growling
some females swim to the boat
rise out of the water,
try to look
with their
big watery eyes
at what is in the boat.
The males hang out
on the rocks
showing their big forheads
We
search under the cactus
we see smoothed paths from one thorny patch to another
wavy lines left by tails in the dust
then
large, fat ,pink and grey
under the thorns
quiet
looking out with small black eyes
crawling under the bush
grabbing a tail
we hear the claws scatching on the rock
trying to save itself from the large predators
pictures taken
and it runs like an alligator
back to the thorns. |
I feel
puny
as the boat
is tossed around
I lie down
I am told
"once we can't see Isla Martir
we are close to where we are headed."
I hear
"oh sh#%*
the dinghy is gone"
sails are collapsed on the deck
another rolled up
pole is stashed
the boat is turned in a trough and we look for the what I call
the potrillo
colt in spanish
we back track towards
Isla Matir
it is found
I am more than feeling puny now
puky is more like it
and...
"oh sh#*%,
the dinghy is gone"
for 40 minutes we look
it is late afternoon
there it is
near Isla Martir
"take
this rope and
crawl out on the side deck
tie it to a cleat."
I begin to crawl
I look at the sea
the boat
is falling sideways at
the waves which are racing toward me
and I imagine they are,
with their watery little fingers,
going to pluck me off the deck
I also know
this is irrational
but I think it anyway
then the captain
gets in the dinghy
ties the rope
and we
turn around
and try once more to leave Isla Martir behind.
we
find a place in the dark to anchor and sleep
in
the morning we sail for home
it is brisk
and beautiful
the waves have become small hysterical little points
the
halyards slap in the mast
the boat creaks
and moans
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