Admittedly, it didn’t seem the best moment. In the kayak, dive stuff hauled back in, ready to paddle home. And it wasn’t just the concerned faces of Buddy’s Sunday staff, Colombian Jimmy and Dutch Anouk which faced me. It was what was above them. A blackening cloud, not just noisy but interestingly lit-up too. Like God was speaking with visuals.
Still, all I had to do was kayak back, hugging the shore, until I got to the marina. About 15 minutes. And I was living the dream.
Jack had reminded me when I’d gotten the kayak back out, ready to re-inflate it. It was a lot for him to say too, since he’s always hated the kayak. I don’t know why he hates it. I have theories. He says it’s because inflatable kayaks are inherently dangerous. The amount of times he watched people rescued from inflatables back in Borth. A wind blows, he says, and they’re off. Ninety miles west towards Ireland.
I suspect his kayak suspicion is more than that though. I think he thinks I’m specifically rejecting his dream. Evil Edna. Because no one loves our dinghy and outboard more than my husband.
I’m always careful when it comes to Edna. I know he wouldn’t hold it against me if I had a genuine accident in her. But I like the route of prevention. And I love the dream of the kayak. I love getting places in her. The quiet and the paddling self-reliance. Add some dive gear and baby corals to look after… he’s right. I don’t know how I’m going to leave Bonaire now. I might be so knackered though, I’ll be glad to go.
When I re-inflated the kayak, I parked her by the side of Quest (the other side is busy with a marina pontoon) and left her there. Later that day, Jack got so stuck going out with Edna, he almost crashed the engine into the side of Quest. Not that I heard about it all afternoon.
Then, later in the day, Jack was filling up Quest’s water tanks. Walking up the side of the boat with his phone in one hand, he stumbled. His phone fell out of his hands, onto Quest’s bulwark, jumped up and slipped right off the boat. He let out a small scream.
Guess where the phone landed? Safely onto the soft kayak. It jumped up again and nestled down into the seat. We only found out when Jack opened the saloon hatch and said, ‘Did you hear me scream?’ Truth is we don’t hear much with the hatches closed.
So, despite the flashing sky and the worried looks of both Jimmy and Anouk, I knew I’d be ok. I have to be honest. I enjoyed the looks on their faces when I left Buddy’s with lumpy seas and the impending squall. Not so much ten minutes later, when the rain was so heavy I had to cling to an inflatable pontoon and hope I wouldn’t be sunk by the rain. Hey ho. Rough with the smooth.