A day in the life…

Juugin’ to the max! I planned on bucking on school, just for one day AND I was going to be productive, so it was pardoned. Looking forward to a day of clamming, fishing, and enjoying nature.

An and I met up with David and Tran, and we were off! We haven’t had the chance on the boat with us four since the first time. Repeat!

Heading out of the marina, the water was more choppy than usual. It took us much longer but it didn’t matter. We saw the sun peeking out of the clouds more and more frequently. We knew it was only a matter of time.

Having to use trash bags instead of our usual buckets was not ideal, but we made the best. Tran even humored us with her segregated folded bags inside of the zip-lock bag that was to be their protective casing.

We hit the sand walking… David and I pulled the boat pretty close to shore since the tide was coming in. High tide fills this place up. Low tide pulls it all out. Low tide isn’t til seven or so, though. David took time to make sure both anchors were set and the boat was properly faced. I applauded the care in which he took in making sure his boat always in an ideal position. We anchored much closer to the clam bed we visited the first time we went out on the boat. 

We were still two bags into our clamming when Tran stands up and asks why the boat looked like it was floating away. David shot over to the boat. I wasn’t too concerned about it, but I thought I could add another pair of hands to the solution. The ladies went back to getting some more clams and I stroll over to David. By this time, I begin to understand that we’re not getting back to this boat. With the tide coming in so quickly, the boat was probably 50 yards from us. It was just that quick. David starts to survey the water to find any other boat that may be sailing by. There are none. I figure I’ll try walking the eastern end of the beach to see if there are any boats around the bend.

I cross an (you know, I’m trying to refrain from saying ‘big-ass’ but nothing else sounds right. ‘huge’, ‘crazy large’, ’immense’) immense square boulder that sat right smack on the beach. This rock’s the size of two stacked tractor-trailers and looks like it was dropped from the same airplane that lost it’s engine in Donnie Darko.

A little further and I hear a helicopter. I look up. Left. Right. And it’s off in the distance. It’s coming this way! I know it sees me but I casually wave my hands in the air. It’s getting closer and I’m waving a little more intensely. It doesn’t seem to have plans of slowing down. It sails past my jumping, sprawling body in the distance and it is very likely they didn’t see me at all.

I return with no other news but of what the tides look like in the Atlantic Ocean. David thinks there’s an outpost or SOMETHING towards the opposite direction of my walk. My feet don’t feel the best from the walk but I get up, sans my bitching.

We walk over what must be one of the largest clam genocide ever. The land seemed to be made up of ‘em. David reminds us of the incoming tide and if we don’t hurry, the clam bed we were picking from will be too deep to cross. Insert pep. It was far easier for the 3 of them to cross the bed of clams and random debris with the water shoes that were on the boat. My deciding to wear the Five-Fingers was both a poor and solid idea. Despite the fact that they had crazy slim soles, they would have been the only footwear available. David had no shoes remotely close to my size.

By this time, I’m prepping myself up to play the Waiting Game. Already clearing my mind for meditation and going to convince everyone that a boat is BOUND to come by, even though hours have gone by and we have not seen one. It’s clearly visible that 1. There is no signs of technology anywhere along the island, and 2. There are more waterways and oyster beds to traverse.

We’re turning back.

On the way back, David starts to think up building a raft. I can see this because he starts picking up random things left on the beach. He grabs a walking stick, then a buoy that’s been torn away from something. Then we come across a surfboard-sized piece of old, dry, blue foam. It looks like it could have been part of a floatation device but I had no idea what it could be a piece from. He grabs it and you can tell he’s really thinking of some Cast Away-type idea now. We come across a smaller piece of the same foam and I take the lead on that. An and Tran end up finding a piece of wood that was probably the size of a old-school keyboard, half of a Dora the Explorer life vest, another buoy and another stick.

We get it to the clamming bank. By this time, the clams are completely covered and there’s probably a foot of water above them.  David reminds us the tide is coming in quick; basically filling this entire cove with the Atlantic’s finest. We decide to have the women put their chests on the foam pieces and float across. Unsuccessful. We end up having them straddle the bigger piece and ride it across as David pulls. I had the random items and the smaller piece. Wincing isn’t the word to describe the silent agony the women were in as they glided fearlessly across the arduous oyster bed just a few feet above them by this time. It takes me a much longer time to get across the jagged oyster bed because I’m so cautious of every step. The clam graveyard was one thing (I could see where I was stepping), but this slowed me way down. We eventually get some of the way across the bed and see the island come to a tip.

David’s going to set sail from here. We still see the boat but just barely. David will be able to ride the current to the boat and swim to it if he overshoots it, which couldn’t be by much. David decides he doesn’t need the two walking sticks. He ties a knot only a fisherman would be able to tie and sets the pieces of foam side-by-side. The plank is laid on top, to join the union of these two lost pieces of this world’s puzzle.

Both of the buoys had a couple of feet of rope on each so he takes them and creates the raft.  The buoys stayed attached to the rope so it helped with… the… f-l-oatation. The group begins to understand that this really may be what we have to resort to…

… But David can’t go alone.

When those words were said, the clouds went from their elderly, bumper to bumper Scooter traffic, to all crashing into this murky black water, I realized I’d be faced with.

David was a doer, and in doing, was preparing to change into his Kal-El costume and do the damn thing. But he couldn’t. There are way too many things that can go wrong:

What if he gets tired?

What if he misses the boat?

What if something happens to him?

It’s much more sound to send two people! That way…

… so I gear up to make this happen. Femi, can you swim? Of course I can swim. I swam in summer camp. Frost Valley.  I was a green level swimmer, MA’AM! It’s settled. David and I will head for the boat, which is visible just passed what David says is the jagged rock area. An and Tran will stay back.

David and I push the boat away from the marshy shore and we’re waist deep in water.  Right after I give An the “this isn’t goodbye” lecture for asking for one last hug, Tran runs towards David and asks for that one-last-kiss-just-in-case-nothing, we hope-happens. I object loudly! I detest “just in case”.

Tran makes us take the tattered Dora life jacket that couldn’t fit either of us by a long shot.

David tells Tran to waive down any other boats but if it’s a boat full of guys, to run and hide.

I never even though about that.

If some Hills-Have-Eyes guys come floating by on their little rowboat and see two girls on the beach with no boats in site, of course they’ll land. But when they realize the girls are stranded and there are no other people around either…

I shook myself loose of the thought. Good advice David. Terrible provoked thoughts.

We’re still pushing out. We get further from the shore but we can still touch the ground. I feel like all I do is “begin to realize…” but I think when you have an idea, it’s filled with endless possibilities and could end up any way you want it to. But when that idea becomes reality, and the fact that you haven’t swam in twelve years (coupled with the fact that Green level swimmers were the ones that could swim-hop from one side of the 5-foot area of the dock and blue were the ones that could go out to the floating bubble dock that the can blob from) begins to register as being filled to the absolute brim with dumb-assery, I become colder. It’s not a shiver cold but a universe cold.

“Oh, let’s take off our shoes. It’ll create drag. We need to be as sleek as possible.” That made sense to me and by now, my Vibram’s have taken a beating; scarred with several skirmishes and three great battles… that all three were to the defeat of my shoes, the scissor sharp oyster bed had it’s way with my feet and probably felt up some bone.

We de-shoe and the water is chest-high. David hops chest first onto the foam and I see, those eyes are abnormally chinky. He yells ‘fuck’ and I see the friendly blue foam, turn into a metal brillo pad. Not to mention the baseball-sized piece of foam that floated off behind us. We don’t mention it.

I grab for as much ground as I can before we set off. The bass in my chest is too lound for my ears but I don’t know how to cover the inside of my ear, or turn down the beating volume.

I hop on.

We could use a sail of some kind.

I hope off praying to God I’m still tall enough to grab some ground.

Thankfully, it’s still about chest-high. I think we should go back and tie something around the two foam pieces somehow. Or maybe put the life jacket between the two sticks and stick them between the pieces of foam. That could work.

We needed to be light and swift, instead.

I take off my swimming trunks, turn it upside down, putting an arm through each leg, and rested our elbows on the oh-so-soft foam (brillo pad), we have our sail.

This time, we push forward and don’t turn back. With our chests on the foam and legs in the water, we start to kick until we can’t. David starts to paddle when he can’t kick and I kick when I can’t paddle. We just get the alternations. There is no need for coordinating our switching. I start to slack before David does and he’s quick to ‘come on, dude, we’re gonna do this’. David’s constantly worrying that the boat. It seemed to have gotten caught on something since it looked to stay in generally the same area for a good amount of time. He explains that the way the boat is rocking, with it’s nose in the air, that it could be on shallow water. If so, the waves would hit the bottom of the boat, raise it up, and slam it down, potentially cracking the hull and sinking the boat.

This boat can’t sink…

But it’s weird, I hear him say that, and I don’t even put together that if it sinks, we REALLY don’t have a way of contacting anymore and we’d REALLY be screwed.

I just think David is either really superficial to be worrying about his boat being damaged and it costing him a lot of money, or David is ridiculously brave and does stuff like this on the reg.

We start talking about this or that, dodging jellyfish and balls, and head for the boat, with the wind in our sail and my delicates dangerously close to the corner of this “raft”.

David’s energy is contagious. At times where the burn would be so deep… (to have such a deep burn)  and he would see our world turning away from the boat, we’d chat and just make the necessary adjustments. If he could keep me engaged, I’d try to burn myself out.

Time goes by.

The boat’s getting closer.

Close my eyes for a moment leaning against the armsail.

Kicking where I can. Paddling when I can.

This foam is tearing through my thighs. My elbow can’t dig a comfortable groove in the foam.

A piece of foam floats off.

I look over and see David resting the same way.

SNAP

The chunk of board I was resting on broke off. I was able to simultaneously grab the raft and the piece. To have my heart-rate go from mellow to overdrive is serious. I felt like my veins got so much bigger that my face was tightening up.

Calmly we put the piece in front so as to put the still larger piece in the middle. The plank was still on but I wonder why we didn’t think to place it in the middle!?!? It was more 75 percent than 50 right down the middle. What if this foam breaks again? It becomes the new end and I have to get around it to get some more foam. David and I are a lot closer but we’re still calm… still slapping away jellyballs… still not looking down…

I look back. I almost hope we’re not too far from the beach. I think we can come up with a better idea or another boat is BOUND to come. We’re never alone out here. We’re pretty far from the beach. Way past the point of no return.

…Nice. I kept myself preoccupied enough to strike all the way out.

Now I can’t chicken out. Backpat. I feel a lot more comfortable. David’s chillin’. Water’s warm. Current and wind is helping us. Even if we overshoot the boat, David said the marina is right there.

We get closer to the boat.

I’m pretty calm. I’m way too calm to be out here. It’s ok though. We’re about to get to the boat. It’s right there. David’s calm too. This kid’s crazy. But we’re not. Not right now. We’re just all about some water.

We get closer to the boat.

Now, we’re trying to turn. the current has picked up and is pushing us inland. David says We have to turn and use the wind if we’re gonna get to the boat.

We’re steering and kicking. Steering and kicking.

But wait… it took us twenty minutes of riding just to GET out of the marina. There wre no boats and I saw the huge shop waaaaay before we got to the beach.

The boat is moving…

Gotta  keep the sail up. Keep your are leveled. I know your elbow hurts. So does mine. Why do people compare their pain with another’s’? As if to say, “if I can do it, you can.” Are you thinking so lowly of yourself that you feel like you offer nothing special? You’re plain and ordinary and anyone can do the little you can achieve? Or is it that you hold yourself to an esteem and you challenge another to attempt to keep up with you? I think that some people can hold theirs up longer, and offer energy to someone who can’t. Not holding my arm up for me, but just giving energy to someone. We all do it in different ways. The goal is to hold up and help up.

The boat is… moving away.

We paddle even harder. I just close my eyes and kick and far and deep as I can and not stop until…

I open my eyes. The boat is getting further.

Head on my arm and I’m paddling as much as I can. I move onto the wood plank and paddle as much as I can.

I open my eyes. We’ve missed the boat. The current carried us out too far.

David says if only the wind could push us more north towards the boat, we could still get to it.

I look up.

If that’s north, then the sun is in the west… setting. Low tide comes around and we’re sucked out toward the boat, or to the Atlantic Ocean.

We’re aiming for the shore now. As long as the wind is to our backs and these waves don’t get too much bigger, we’re reach shore before low tide.

Heading to shore.

Damn. The girls saw us overshoot the boat.

They can’t see us anymore.

Hillbillies finding girls.

Gotta hit the shore.

Boat is getting closer to shore. It’s not snagged and is freely flowing towards shore about a mile down. We can get to the boat! Hope it’s not too shallow.

Bottom of boat breaking.

Screwed.

Time goes by. I try to think of something.

You should cut your hair.

What?! Where the hell did that come from?

Ok screw where it came from? Pros/cons of cutting my hair:

Pro:

Con: seeing to which lengths I can take it. How long can I actually keep it?

Pro: to… not have to twist it constantly in these summer months.

Con: People see I take pride in something I’ve committed to. People like it.

Pro: … … no longer an excuse not to get more active.

Con: my head is HUGE with locs. They can’t take up THAT much room.

Pro: Take pride in committing to something worthwhile. Something meaningful that you can learn from and grow with

Con: My head on this frame is gonna look ridiculously small and big at the same time!

Pro: Stop being your hair. Lose the “friends” that like the hair but don’t kick thoughts with me.

Con: I’ll be just another dude.

Pro: I’ll be just another dude… on the outside.

“Now question is every nigga with dreads for the cause?
Is every nigga with golds for the fall? Naw
So don’t get caught in appearance…”

André 3k “Aquemini”

After this, I’m pushing the reset button…

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I’m cutting my hair.

We’re getting closer to land and the boat is, too. Now we have to determine where we want to land. David points to the left of us and sees a beach that looks easy to traverse. Dead ahead of us is marshland and who knows what is under the water.

I’m reminded that we don’t have shoes.

We’re pretty close to the shore now.  All we have to do is turn left and sail to the sandy beach.

We paddle a bit but we’re still burned out from the boat attempt. We decide to just turn the raft and let the current carry us in since that’s the direction we’re floating to. For some reason, the raft is turning right just still sailing left. We don’t need to get to the boat now! We could have used that hours ago!

We’re paddling.  Thighs are too raw to kick.

Getting closer to marshland…

We’re gonna land on marsh. We’re about 10 feet from the shore and I close my eyes, slide back off the raft, and place a foot down.

Rock. Its rock. Smooth moss-covered. Rock. Feels like a big turtle shell under our feet. Could have been hard sand. I didn’t care.

It wasn’t oysters.

We get on land. I see the shell cemetery I was sure we left back at the other beach but we have a new foe: the grass.

This grass is the stuff hay dries up to be. This grass is tough and just as difficult as the shells.

We need shoes… dumbass.

I don’t say anything. I’m a dumbass for going along with the idea.

We have rope but we need something to put on the bottom of our feet. The buoys won’t work. Wouldn’t make sense to break the foam into smaller pieces:

a.in case we needed it again

b.because that shit hurts!

We see the shredded remains of the lifejacket and I just think back to when we really were going to leave but, but An and Tran made sure we took it with us.

Women are amazing.

The universe is amazing.

We divide up the soft foam from the lifejacket. We use the dry, jagged shells from the beach and cut the rope from the buoys and scrape off what barnacles we could. We knew tying the foam to our feet  wasn’t going to work for long. It’s way too soft and thin.

We tie them down. David imparts a dope little knot technique that keeps the rope in place.

We start walking. We can see the boat ridiculously close to the shore. I’d say it’s less than 50 yards from shore and we’re about a mile from the boat.

We come up to a drop-off back into the water. This isn’t one long beach. There’s a river-like body of water between us and more land. Granted, it wasn’t more than 40 feet across but I wasn’t gonna do it. I couldn’t make it across. I wasn’t going to swim it. I told David to go ahead. I can see him the whole way over. But he objected. He felt like he was gonna leave me and he wasn’t going to do that. Don’t separate.

The foam.

I told him I’d go back and get the foam and use it to float across. That’ll work. Heading back, the shoes began to tatter.  The three puncture wounds from earlier are beginning to hit ground. More cuts are forming. Not at deep but still irritating. I have to walk more carefully because I’m walking on ground now.

I get back to the foam. I end up making the most uneven tear down the Dora lifeless-jacket outlining and use the rope. I’ve already forgotten the knot David showed me.

I Jerri rig the rope and make off with the biggest foam piece. I have to carry it low and into the wind. If I hold it out in front of me, the wind kicks me 5 feet back. Not knowing where to step behind me, I wasn’t going to be fooled twice.

I get to a safe place to embark from and place the foam in the water.

Where’s David? I look up and He’s already a football field’s length away. I get ready to catch up to him. All I have to do is hop in this foam and head over. Let’s make it happen. I look to my right. Nothing but waves looking to sweep me further inland if it takes me a while to get to the other side. I look to my left.

I see a head.

I don’t automatically recognize it but I see dark. I think of a beaver. I’m sure there’re some kind of beaver or otter group here. The marshlands stretched for miles. I start to think what else lives in marshlands.

Alligators. Dammit. I’m not going.

I decided to sit and just wait for David to either get to the boat or get to the other end of the island.

I start resenting the idea. I’m not going to wait and leave it all up to someone else. I’m not going to strand myself on this island. I need to do everything possible to get help!

I get up, tear off the stupid remains of the crappy shoes I made, put the foam back in the water, and prep to just push.

Close your eyes and just push.

I opened them and I was on land. The same land I never moved from. I couldn’t do it. My imagination started going crazy. I even thought “ you just crossed miles of ocean and you’re locked up over a 40 foot stream. Dirtbag.”

That sucked. I looked up and lost sight of David. Maybe he made it around the bend. I look at the boat. I can barely make out the red from the water tube that’s there. I see the boat pointed away from the shore.

The anchor must be caught on something. Good. It’s not too far.

I try to muster up the courage to cross this ever widening river, but I fail each time.

A while later I wonder if David has reached anyone. I wondered why that end of the beach facing the Atlantic would be any different from the walk I took hours before. I stare out at the boat. It’s sailing further away from the shore!

Stop. The. Madness.

I look take a mental note of where the boat is and I try not to look for a good amount of time. I look for shells large enough to put my feet in. I check my feet to make sure they’re not bleeding. The little bone sticking out of the outside of my right foot (I googled it and it’s called the metatarsal. Apparently the foot has two of ‘em.) is really starting to affect the way I walk.

I look up. The boat is definitely getting away from the shore. But the tide’s still coming in. the wind is pushing the water inland and has kicked up even more.

David must be on the boat. Dope. David’s on the boat and he’s gonna scoop me up.

Wait, the water is much too shallow here. He’s gonna get his motor messed up if he tries to come in too far. Oh, shit. I’m going to have to swim against the current to get to the boat. David can’t risk hull damage to the boat.

I’m going to have to swim to the boat.

I begin to psyche myself up. Against the current. Man, the stones are soft. I can walk a good ways. I’m good. I look up and the boat’s stopped moving. Take mental note and verify, it hasn’t moved for a couple of minutes. What could have caused it to move AWAY from shore?! He’s not on the boat.

David’s not on the boat. Where is he? What could be over there? Are the girls ok? Never. Separate.

More time goes by. I realized I’ve been standing int the exact same spot for a pretty long time. I’m in my head and time doesn’t really apply in there. The boat is caught somewhere.  It hasn’t moved at all. I can’t really see anyone in there. David has for sure gone around the bend for help. Damn I hope he finds something.

Screw this. I need to be useful. That stream can’t last forever. I’ll walk it until it gets smaller and more manageable. I tie up the makeshift shoes as best I can and I start walking inland. I spot a water tower in the distance beyond the wall of trees and decide to walk in that direction.

Damn I hope I don’t walk up on some rich person’s porch and they mistake me for someone begging.

20 yards in I’m confronted by a wall of grass as high as corn stalks. Walking through this is going to be rough.

It was impossible. The “shoes were punctured immediately and this grass had no kind of give. This can’t happen.

I go back to my standing position and ponder.

I begin to just daze. Not even thinking of anything. Just mind blank. Periodically I’ll come back just to see that this is reality. I’m off again.

What seemed like hours later, something caught my eye. Then I hear it.

Orange reflection of sunlight never looked so good. The Coast Guard’s helicopter appeared out of nowhere. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe lightening would strike twice. I see it go straight to the boat. It hovers at the boat for a minute or so. I guess it doesn’t see anyone there. I don’t see anything get lowered to the boat so I know there’s no one on it. The helicopter turns around and I’m flailing like a fish, trying to get it’s attention. The reminders, and blood, rushed back to my feet and hit me at one time. I nearly collapsed on the shells. I didn’t care. This is the COAST GUARD. I stand in one place and wave my hands as much as possible. The chopper comes straight for me. I’m good.

Yes. The day is over. David found some little hut or something on the beach and was able to contact the Coast Guard. Dope. Now they can scoop me and I’ll show them where the girls are.

The helicopter hovers over me for a while and doesn’t do anything. I take it to mean move the hell out of the way if you want us to land it, so I do.

It’s still hovering. I jump around to assure the pilot that he probably can land without issue.

It starts to move. But it’s not coming back around or finding somewhere to land. It’s moving away from me. It starts to head over to what I think could be where we took off from. I figure they have to assess everyone involved and give attention to who may need it first.

I start to feel bad about not just pointing the helicopter in the direction of the girls in the first place. (in my defense, I wasn’t thinking strategically. Assessment is clearly first.)

I see the helicopter get smaller. Wow we made it a pretty long way. The chopper get smaller until I can’t see it anymore. Not that there was anything in the way or cloud coverage. I stare at the helicopter until I could no longer see anything but tree line. That’s how far we’re come.

What could have been 15 mins later, I see the helicopter again. It’s back in site and it heads for the boat. Again, no one goes in or gets out. It heads for me. Circles. I just again to show it seems pretty solid. What if it’s not? I’m sure they have a solution for it. Circles again. Someone comes out of the back. I give ‘em the OK and the take off about 100 yards inland. They’re pointed right at me, as if to shoot missiles into my island of alligators, shells, and gigantic turtles.

The guy in the back works a basket on to an apparent lift that the helicopter is equipped with. They make way to where I am low and slowly and lower the basket. I get in and get tucked back into the helicopter. I tell ‘em I’m alright and we head to the girls.

I see how far we floated. I see all the rocks we avoided and how deep the drop-off at some points were. We get to a point where you can just barely see both shores. It takes us MINUTES to get to the island where An and Tran are.

We eventually see them at the tip, blending in so well save for the neon bathing suits they have. The helicopter lowers and An gets on. She smiles and gives me a choking hug that I had no energy to refuse. Tran gets in, we lock eyes, but I see she’s looking for David. I ask where David was and the co-pilot informs me that he’s still on the boat! He told them he made a dash from the shore over a pretty long oyster bed. Luckily the water was around five and a half feet deep so he was able to walk it. I ask him the time.

It’s seven o’clock.

David’s on the boat. This is crazy.

The story ends up with me and the girls at Hunter taking pics and waiting for a ride. We eventually link up with David who had to leave his boat after much convincing because of how low the tide was.

We meet David at the dock after some Coast Guards rescue him by boat.