The 30^th

I used up a quarter of a tank chasing down a mammoth, six foot Southern Ray. The instructors apron strings have been severed, so I have begun to float solo. My fancy watch informed me I went into decompression at 136 feet and then, simply assuming I was dead, failed to give me any further advice. I hope and believe this was because I went free diving wearing it an hour before and lacking a free diving setting the computer  thought me mad.

I found the skipper whom I was seeking, he is sailing for Belize on Saturday. I assumed he was looking for a crew, but rather he was seeking passengers for $450 US a head. He had his own vessel sitting in Roatan and was borrowing his friends sloop to raise funds for engine repair. Never the less he was most interesting. A young, good looking German who two days ago, being a stranger, I wagered for a bottle of rum that he was not gay. My victory was ensured as he told me of his Kava drinking days in Vanautu. Jealous of the native girls attraction to him, a black magician cursed him and his boat, so as he sailed away he found himself perpetually just a few meters out of the winds reach. In a personal doldrum he motored for the breeze but every time he approached the wind, as it had been doing for days, simply stepped out of reach.

I told him $100 and I’ll cook, we will see in two days.

Post Script: Man cannot survive on Krazy Glue alone. I was prematurely appreciative about the glues repair job on my sandal. But through some battlefield tech testing I discovered World War Two parachute cord mixed with the sticky creates a sort of high powered fiberglass that has held for five action packed days.