COMING IN

It was our last day. As we watched the clouds approaching I knew we had to hurry or risk being stuck in our small narrow arroyo for another three days.

We motored in at low tide and started hauling stuff to the boat. As I packed the stove and lantern it became apparent that the boat was now high and dry with the water still receding.

That was at 4PM. Sunset at 5 found us sitting in our positions waiting for the water to float us off the sand. I remember being upset to discover wet paw prints on my pillow from that pesky coyote that had searched in vain for the mozarella.

The clouds had reached us by now, forming a solid layer from horizon to horizon. It was night now and the darkness was complete. Losing patience we removed our warm and dry boots and waded out to find the water's edge. It was a starry night but the stars were not above. With each step bright specks of light shot out from under our feet.

The water, of course, did eventually reach the boat and after a few nervous moments the outboard fired up. It was jet black out there by this time. The towering cliffs could barely be recognized against the lifeless sky. A couple of large luminous objects came shooting by in the darkness, which turned out to be startled pelicans paddling like hell to get out of the way.

Thankfully we were out of the narrows now and heading for open water when the motor coughed a couple of times and unexpectedly died.

"It's the gill net, dad!", came from the bow.

The situation seemed disastrous. My fingers clawed at the monofilament in the darkness without knowing whether the loops were being added or removed from the blades of the prop. "So this is where we will be passing the night", I thought as my eyes scanned the darkness.

But there is a big difference between a 14 year old fishing companion and the boy I brought to baja 9 years ago. Alex was by my side and I soon heard the sweet sound of snippers cutting line next to me. I then went forward and rummaged blindly through the flight bag until my fingers felt the smooth cold shape of a flashlight. We were free in no time and back in business. Did I mention the awesome green light emanating from gillnet as it was lifted from down below?

Onward! As we entered open water the wind got appreciably stronger. Were we in rough water? I couldn't tell - it was black all around. Then I felt the boat rise abruptly and come sliding down the face of the wave followed by ths familiar hissing sound of breaking foam. Alex turned off the light and now I could make out the green light from the whitecaps. I told him how unsafe this had become and suggested turning back.

"But dad, we're half way there"

Well, I couldn't argue with that kind of logic. I motored on slowly now towards the calm safety of the launch cove. The low tide meant that the surf would be breaking right near the entrance and the timing of the landing had to be perfect. We were at the breakwater now looking for the opening. Alex was at the bow with our AA battery flashlight giving directions.

"To the left! To the left!"

"There's open surf to the left. We'll roll over"

"We're too close to the rocks. Turn left!"

All I know is that we somehow miraculously ended up right in the calm water behind the rocks. Yes, we had been in the breaking surf not 20 feet from the beach but the waves were too small to capsize our vessel. In the darkness it was impossible to see the surf or the beach itself.

Two hours later we sat in the dry warmth of the camper staring blankly into space. Nobody said a word. Each had his own thoughts.

What one had found exhilirating the other found terrifying.

I remember one night in the tent talking about those Tasmanian Devils from down under. Then we found one breaking in.

This is the sort of image kids nowadays like to post to one another on facebook.

WIND