“It’s just us again” Ronan said forlornly as we dinghied back to Ondine after dropping James at his taxi. Yes, it’s just us again, with only one engine and a generator that doesn’t work, I thought. I didn’t really feel in much of a position to grumble, James was going to bury his father, I can’t think of many things harder than that, being in St. Lucia on a Catamaran, even with only one engine, doesn’t really cut it. Actually things were going okay without the captain, we quickly fell into a nice little daily rhythm ; Get up, take the readings, start engine, make water and put on the washing. Make breakfast, listen to The Cruises Net, read a chapter of The Lost Hero
(Yesterday we hiked to the top of the fort on Pigeon Island and I leaned what a gun sling is.)
In the afternoon we go to H2O, a cafe in the marina that has fast Wifi and a pool. We dinghy home before sunset, put the dinghy up on the davits, make dinner, make more water, eat dinner, wash up, read another chapter, take the readings, go to bed and try not to stay up worrying about the anchor dragging. I had it all under control, I was feeling very proud of my self. I was even zooming around on the dinghy, like the thing never terrified me. Beware pride the mother of complacency. They are both dangerous things for a boat dweller . As we pulled out of the mariner that evening, refusing help to cast off because we know what we’re doing, the dinghy engine died. I knew the moment it died what had happened, I had run out of fuel. Totally embarrassing! Luckily we were close to a house on the bay and we rowed/floated over to its dock. I called out on the radio to the boats I knew, no one answered, it was getting dark. Then Paloma had the brilliant idea of calling SV Restless. Trish from Restless teaches informal yoga on the beach and I had leant her my extra yoga mats. The Yoga deities were smiling on me, she answered right away, brought us a jerry can of fuel and saved us. It was totally humiliating. But when you live on the sea a little humility can go along way, to saving your ass.
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It did seem appropriate. It’s not the first time I’ve been saved by yoga. Thank you for your lovely comment.
My dear Emma-Kate, you continue to astonish me with your many newly-acquired skills, things I never would have imagined you doing a decade or so ago! And so glad you were saved by yoga, which for me at least has provided many lessons in humility. I love your blog.