Upchuck - Crossing the Gulf Stream

Glorious excitement filled my heart to the brim. The wind felt like a war paint on my face while I stood erect gripping bare wood of the tiller in my hand, heading for open waters. We were leaving the country and light of its day behind. The night was setting in slowly and stirred waters were animated even more in dying reds in the sea of grayness. Mystery of the sea. Presence of the Ocean. What it will be tonight? Gracious host showing us around its domain or an angry alcoholic father lashing its fury on scared, little ones?

We were barely outside of the reef but our boat was already jerking under the pounding of the swells. Our journey was taking us across the Gulf Stream. Its currents were moving millions of gallons of Ocean water at the average speed of 3 knots. This moving Ocean was fiercely opposed by Northeaster, wind responsible for these confused swells. We couldn't see much anymore - it was already dark. Our 25 foot sloop staggered from side to side, sea water crashing the bows, flying over the deck into our faces. Seems Mr. Ocean had a drink or two, before calling the day.

We were tacking upwind, rocking and jerking like a coin bronco in a hick saloon. Very soon two very motivated, psyched for the journey sailors became strangely quiet, riding along. Motion of the boat was numbing our minds and bodies. The light from the compass mounted in the cockpit was dancing in the dark leaving streaks of red light in our eyes. Butterflies awoke in our stomachs and were creeping around our bodies freely. Two very motivated sailors soon became two very sick bodies aware barely enough to dodge sporadic freighter or a cruise ship.

As a captain I felt the burden of leadership resting on my shoulders. With a port side upchuck I broke uncomfortable silence. Did I really have any carrots?! Oh yeah... before we raised the anchor I was chomping on one, I was able to recall. Johannes was still unmoved. In his eyes I saw how uneasy he was, but in a true German spirit he was contemplating his options, trying to engineer his way out of this. His hesitance, I suspect, was partially justified by the fact that he had lot more to give up having a massive, reach dinner just before our departure from the Rodriguez Key. He just wasn't ready to let go, I suppose. Unwilling to part with his dinner Johannes, I sensed, was growing angry at the seas demanding of him so much and so soon. The conflict was evident. Stubbornness was cemented on his countenance. I knew what I had to do. I readily extended a helpful hand, or should I say helpful chuck. Butterflies were roaming free in my stomach anyway, so it wasn't a big effort on my side to give an another portside hive. I did it with a great abandonment. Legs kicking out, hands gripping mainsail sheets and rest of the body hanging out of control, stiff in the cockpit. Nothing held back. I was driving it on empty now, pretty dry feeling I might say. I couldn't immediately tell if it had a desired impact upon my German friend since I was completely unable to move concentrating what was left of my energy on staying in the boat. But I was confident in the principle. Leading by my own example and all that stuff. Besides, I did all I could now. With this sense of duty fulfilled I felt immediately better. Better enough to relieve Johannes at the helm allowing him for some moment alone. I know he'll come around eventually. He just needs some time to come to peace with himself. I had confidence in him and I had the confidence in the magic of this night, its mystical salty air enveloping us at the sea.

The night was truly beautiful, if we could only pay attention to it. Stars were bright as they could, peace and solitude, perfect circumstances for reflections from the bottom of ones heart. I saw a change taking place in Johannes. His body language was more soft, relaxed, almost resigned. Anger and resistance swept away by howling winds. Stars were bright as they could, sparkling with joy and delight. Dancing up and down, side-to-side. Trillions of shinning faces witnessing one special boy coming back to a fold. This son was lost but now he's found. Was bound but now is free! Warmth of the night enveloped Johannes like arms of the father saying It's alright son. It's all right... rocking him gently from side to side. The sea was celebrating with gashes of watery fireworks spraying life itself into the air. The boat was bobbing clumsily along, playing with him, teasing, welcoming to come along. Johannes was humbled by this affection, shyly bowing his head over the side. He saw the stars for the first time - tiny faces, sisters in fact, jumping over the waves, waiting for their brother to play with them. It wasn't a great display of emotions, just a small bow to the side, a gentle bend of his back, barely a sound.

This offering was not given but taken you might say, but how could you? Right from the bottom of his heart, traveling upwards to the shining stars, spilling through his lips like a praise, it came at last. A humble beginning, yet a great step for the prodigal son. It was just a handful, but he come around at that counted the most. The waters received his offering kindly. Nothing organic is a waste. The sea was welcoming him back to its fold and that's the important thing. Maybe he was resistant at first but now he is the part of the family.

This experience gave Johannes unexpected desire to express himself even more. Hesitance gave way to boldness. He's going all the way! Nothing would hold him back anymore. He found his freedom at least. Drunk with the excitement, for why to hold on to such an earthly thing like a plate of food, what's more passing and less lasting than a meal? Now he knew he can do it. Conviction painted on his face. "If you love it - set it free!" his drunken eyes exclaimed. The passion overtook him: "who said food was not meant to fly?" He saw the stars now! He found his sisters!

Johannes knew the moment when it came. Stars blinked for a moment and for a moment time held still. Johannes gave it all. Trumpets of Jericho, hear the sound. He was free. Butterflies were also free! It was still dark but his heart was aflame. He found a new meaning, new zeal, new passion.

He sat back after a moment, satisfied. It was a mistake he couldn't avoid. Like ordering a coffee in the donut shop. The magic was no more. The cockpit came to focus. His skipper holding the wood of the tiller had some of it left on his face. In the next moment everything went away. The experience was gone, nothing but a memory. Even stars lost its shine, just a dandruff on the midnight pullover. The wind - a trader after his own gain, howling in the shrouds like a lunatic. The sea was poking its many fingers in the black body-bag it was trapped in. Our boat, lump of fiberglass, that's all, was rolling up and down, jerking two guys like on a ATV ride in the mental institute, section eight.

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