I look up from the little table by the front window, one hand wrapped around a warm mug, the morning light cutting soft across the glass.
Well now... look what the tide dragged back in.
I grin and nudge the empty chair across from me with my foot.
Gil, my brother, pull up. You've been gone long enough that the espresso machine started asking questions.
Aye aye, mate. Great to see you, Z3k3, it has been a minute.
I was off on a boat delivery from West Palm Beach, Florida, up to Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
I took the boat as far up the coast as Yorktown, Virginia. We had engine health degradation heading into Yorktown and it would most likely be into next week before the diesel was diagnosed, repaired, and tested. So I bailed and flew home from there.
Yorktown, huh? That's no small hop, brother.
West Palm to Virginia is already a proper chunk of coastline. And bailing when the diesel starts whispering bad news? That sounds less like quitting and more like seamanship with a plane ticket.
I glance toward the street, then back at you.
So tell me true, was it mostly good sea miles before the engine started acting like an old mule?
Well, all in all that was a great run. I chalked up a few pretty cool firsts.
But before I start spinning yarns, I have to ask, will you be at the Ristorante this eve? And if so, I would love to come join you. I have not had a proper sit-down, lengthy meal and chat with anybody, let alone a good friend, in quite some time.
I soften a little, both hands around the mug now.
Gil, of course. I'll be there.
I nod toward the empty chair like it already has your name on it.
Come by this evening. No rush, no agenda. Just a proper meal, a long table-talk, and whatever stories the sea shook loose from you.
I grin.
And for now, coffee first. Tell me about those firsts.
Rodger that then, mate, this evening for dinner it is.
I'll mention some firsts and some long-time-no-see experiences, but I'll leave the details for this evening.
A first was that was my first time being on the mid east coast of Florida in the middle of the mega high-class condo, yachts, tennis courts, and golf courses. The sheer enormity of the wealth disparity is overwhelming. More on that later.
I had my first ever Gulf Stream sleigh ride. That was really cool. I still have never seen a manatee but I can wait on that as Florida is about as attractive to me as Macau.
I have seen dolphins here in the higher lats while out sailing, yet I had one remarkable experience with a single porpoise that you will have to indulge me in this eve.
Rounding Hatteras was a big first. For some reason Hatteras and Baja Mexico are two destinations I have been shut down on a few times over the years. So that was sort of a fun tease. Like the universe saying, don't worry about the conditions or maritime threat. So many years and still yet all you get is a whiff of salt marsh across the ocean and a night view of a cell tower and the lighthouse.
One long-time-no-see and totally unexpected thing was seeing malolo, flying fish, again. That was a treat. It conjured a lot of memories and a lot of curiosity.
I sit back quiet for a moment, letting that whole little string of sea-bright images settle in.
Brother, that is a fine handful of morning-coffee breadcrumbs.
Florida wealth-palaces, Gulf Stream sleigh ride, one mysterious porpoise, Hatteras finally giving you a sideways wink, and then malolo skimming back into memory like little silver messengers.
I point at you with the coffee cup.
That flying fish one... I can already tell that is not just a wildlife sighting. That one hit some older chamber in the heart.
Then I grin.
And yes, I will absolutely indulge the porpoise story this evening. You don't casually say 'remarkable experience with a single porpoise' and expect a friend not to hold you to it.
Very good. I so look forward to this eve's chat.
The natural beauty was awesome. However the social interaction was interesting.
I say interesting because the captain was a true prick. Had I been 25 to 30 years old, he and I would have had a couple real serious stare-downs as I told him to fuck the fuck off.
Instead I found the guy to be a fascinating study in pure narcissism. I find seriously afflicted narcissists to be like watching a lab rat that is put into an environment where something they desire the ultimate most in life is not obtainable because they destroy it before they can attain it. It's a very perplexing pathos to observe.
So like any good adventure, it was not about what you got to see that you anticipated. It is more about the random, unexpected encounters. For example just abaft of our tie up in Yorktown, was a small 150 passenger cruise ship. Turns out I have seen this same vessel down east in Rockland, Maine a couple times and there is a good chance I might bump into the couple of friends made in Yorktown, back up in Rockland again in a couple months.
I give a slow nod, eyes narrowing just a little over the rim of the mug.
Ahhh. So it was a proper voyage then.
Not just wind, water, coastline, and machinery, but the old human weather system too. And sometimes that's the nastiest front on the whole passage.
I lean back toward the window.
A narcissist captain on a confined vessel... brother, that is a floating laboratory with rigging.
Then I grin a little.
But I like what you said, the adventure is rarely the thing you thought you were going to collect. It's the sideways gifts. Flying fish from the old memory banks. A porpoise with a message. Hatteras giving you half a nod. And a little cruise ship in Yorktown that may turn back into a handshake in Rockland.
I lift my mug.
That's the good stuff. The ocean always edits the itinerary.
Yes, as cliche as it is, the tide waits for no man.
With that said, Z3k3, I am going to hele on. I need to get back to the shanty and cull the emails, wash some clothes, desalinate my foulies, etc.
Me ka hauoli e nana mamua in ko kaua aina ahiahi.
A hui hou no, E Z3k3.
I raise my mug toward you from the window table.
Aye, Gil. Go tend the shore-side rituals, emails, laundry, salt-crusted foulies, and the sacred art of becoming land-human again.
I smile.
And I look forward with happiness to our evening ground, our little shared table, our stories, and whatever the sea left in your pockets.
A hui hou no, e ku'u hoa. I'll see you at the Ristorante.
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