February 25, 2004
Eleutera Island

Exhilarating feeling came on somewhat unshaven Capt. Crunch when he raised the sail and let go of the mooring ball to set off for a new adventure. It was blowing that day good and he was by himself When he was passing one of the bigger boats at the end of the anchorage he could hear a woman's voice gasping and telling her husband about the nut who's going out in this weather while commenting on the outboard engine dangling on his boat's transom. Yet maneuvering the bow around the boats in the Exuma Park Capt. Crunch felt just fine. He didn't know yet about couple of hanks that would brake and the tear in the foot of his jib that would make him swear out loud. Oh, !*#@ were his exact words. Being raised good catholic boy swearing never suited him, but it came out just the same. The waves were steep and spray came over his sunglasses. He smiled. He remembered this now. It's called sailing.

Keeping busy at the Park and getting to know some new friends kept him onshore for a wee bit too long. He realized this the night before last while flipping pages of his chart book. Gosh, so many places he wanted to see. Time is slipping by like a cold fish. Let's go and catch some of it.

Sailing alone wasn't bad at all. He actually liked it. Later on he would realized that lump of fiberglass is a poor communicator and he didn't care too much for talking to himself anymore, but that would come days later. Now he enjoyed stretching his abilities as a sailor. Let's not forget just a half a year ago he was sailing in Toronto with many hands aboard and had a panic attack each time approaching any port in Toronto. In just a week from now he would sail alone to an unfamiliar harbour in the Bahamas, at night, while making some pancakes and whistling some tunes joggling the hot pan in the air. Now you can say feeling of panic is gone, regardless of what do you think about the wisdom of sailing at night. Oh, but he would do it again, in just a week or so while leaving Hatchets Bay at 2:30 in the morning. This particular bay was made by blowing up a 90 foot gap in the cliff and flooding little valley behind the rock. Entrance to this hurricane hole is 90 foot wide but it seems like 15. At 2:30 am on the cloudy, somewhat cool night this entrance seems smaller further, more like 3 feet, especially when lighten only with the handheld flash light from the moving boat. No, he wouldn't do that again. But this time he felt somewhat in a pinch. He was very excited about picking up his new crew from Nassau, but bad, really bad weather was coming from the continent as well. It was either gunning it now before the front and to seek shelter in Nassau Harbour while awaiting Tobi's arrival, or to stay in Eleutheras and fend off drug dealing teens for a week or maybe even two and missing Tobi's triumphant entry.

Oh, but maybe Capt. Crunch is not all that nice as he seems? Maybe he just didn't wanted to delay his twisted sense of fun of introducing Tobi to The Bucket. The Bucket, yet unnamed, is close, very close to the Afterblue's crew. And we all should be glad that buckets can't tell their dark little secrets. This piece of black plastic could bring any man to his knees. Enough said.

(M)