Wait..what??? He paddled past the beauty. Where was he..? oh ****...the vessel that will carry us through this story lay twenty metres further out. When he had pointed out his boat days earlier, my gaze didn't follow his aim, and I had focused on the wrong boat. This may not be as I had hoped.
"Security guards were waking up to end their shift."
. Enjoying this!
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I am not a man who needs luxury. I only need the basics of life. This boat did not provide the basics. After wrestling with the little motor for ten minutes MyCaptain presented his boat on the beach. It had splotches of blue paint and weathered bare wood rotting in the salted air. It gave me no confidence. If it had stories to tell I didn't want to hear them. OK I may be exaggerating but I was terribly disappointed. I loaded on the gear and fishie food and climbed aboard.
As I noted earlier, I am not a fisherman. In fact I am not a boat kind of guy. I had originally arranged this trip for a fellow boardie who was probably now tucked into bed enjoying an herbal dream. I promised that if I survived this voyage I would beat him silly with a conch. Survival. I looked around at the safety features of this vessel. First..Where were the life jackets? Silly question. Without life jackets I looked for anything that would float. I saw two plastic bottles but only one had a cap. I think I would have to fight the Captain for this one. Being Canadian I didn't protest even though it could have cost me my life. I wonder if a lot of Canadians die of politeness.
We sputtered away from shore as the sweet light of twilight called for the early joggers and shooed the night owls away. Looking back to shore every shape was etched in the shadowless light. The night fishermen had extinguished their high beams and were heading for the river. The compressor divers were heading out for another hunt and this valiant crew in our questionable tub were in search of fishies and adventure.
There were few store bought items amongst the gear on this expedition. Jamaicans are masters of recycling. From the soda bottle floats to the halved concrete block anchor, they make do with what they have. A braided piece of re-bar became a grappling hook. A hand carved piece of 2x4 became the emergency paddle. An empty ice cream container was for baling the great amounts of water that seeped into the boat. There was not one length of rope or line that did not have a least one repair or splice. The boat just cracked. MyCaptain pretended it didn't. If I had any God in me, I would pray..now.
This is sounding like a great story. SO - get on with it (please) another polite Canadian here - LOL
Irie Sue
Then I saw the sign. Behind MyCaptain, past the beach and over the Morass, atop the mountains I saw something that I had never seen before and I think few boardies have witnessed. The sun in all her glory was peeking over Negril. I have become jaded with her nightly disappearing act and have hundreds of pictures of her sinking into the ocean that I will never look at. But she came back and with her knock me out make-up on, she had me again. Her blush of rouge and creamy orange left me breathless. Sunrise Negril. Not a new Kahuna novel but the real deal. I had put her to bed the night before and she woke up more beautiful then ever. This was going to be a great day.
My you are eloquent my Dear Mr. Dash! I must admit you were very adventurous in this undertaking - wish you had not forgotten the camera - however who needs one when the tale is told like this
MyCaptain passed me a javel bottle wound with thick line. At the end of the line were lures heavy with hooks. I let out the line and noticed dozens of splices. We trolled for a while parallel to another boat. The two captains were having a conversation over a hundred metre distance and the noise of the belching outboard motors. I don't know how they understood each other. Does patois carry over distances? The other boat pulled in a couple of fish and we headed off to check the traps. Passing us on the way was a AI boat with all the finest gear and I saw their noses raise five degrees as we met. I told myself that I was experiencing the real Negril and who wants Bloody Mary's when you are fishing anyway. The sun was warming as I found a second container to bail out the increasing flow of water. The cracking continued as we neared the first marker and cage. We rolled in the AI boat's wake.
oh my!
loving this tale...
i admit, i would be sleeping peacefully through the lovely sunrise.
good on you for taking on this adventure.
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