Timing Isn't Everything

Timing isn't everything, but it sure beats the alternative.  The rain is pounding the darkness into submission here in my little corner of Golfo Dulce.  But I lay snug in my room, typing away, content with la pura vida.

I snuck one of the kayaks out for an evening paddle, with the hope of catching some luminescence, some dolphins, some friends on a sailboat for a beer.

I paddled out into a calm, deep, reflective sunset, though dramatic with towering thunderheads and roseate colors.  I fell into an easy rhythm that took me quickly towards Annie and Cochi's sailboat, with an ice-cold six-pack hurried straight from the 96 Market to a drybag full of ice in the forward hatch of the nondescript (but free) fiberglass sea kayak that I was lashing to the stern of their 52 foot wooden ketch made in New Zealand in 1941 or '42.  There's loads of history in that boat, including some bits of service in WWII, but this evening we were content to talk dog-training over a couple of beers while we watched the sunset.

All too soon, it was time to bid farewell in order to get the kayak back without too much repercussion, so I crawled into the cockpit and started paddling.  Although the kayak was lighter by a six-pack, it seemed to take quite a bit longer coming back than going out.  I settled into it, though, enjoying the stars as they appeared, and watching the tiny bits of luminescence off the blade of my paddle.  Halfway home, I heard/felt a thump on the bottom of my boat, and something rose to the surface a few feet to my left and jumped.  Porpoises, I hoped!  And became vigilant about the water around me rather than looking more toward the stars like I had been doing before.  Suddenly the water began exploding with little fireballs of light. I had cruised into a school of flying fish just as the bio-luminescence was  strengthening, it seemed.  The fish became little torpedoes of light that would appear beside me to flash as they left the water and re-flash as they entered again.  They were on both sides of me, hitting the boat, hitting my paddle, flying through the air, appearing and reappearing.  That, combined with the magical puffballs of light emanating from each paddle stroke, created a cosmic light show that began to be accentuated by lightning in the thunderheads towering above me.

The fish stayed with me until I neared the pier where 2 guys were fishing with handlines while the girlfriend of one of them sidled for attention.  The luminescence receded as well at that point, and I was left only with lightning and stars.