West of the Quator

by Cheryl Bartlam DuBois

  She’s so tiny she has to stand on a crate to see over the deck house to steer. When I was growing up girls played with dolls, make-up, and horses; not boats, engines, and radio equipment. I didn’t even play with that guy stuff. Maybe I should have. Then I’d be better at this than her,” Rob realized with a certain amount of trepidation.

  It wasn’t totally Rob’s fault that he was just a tiny bit chauvinistic towards women in what were generally considered men’s jobs such as the trading floor and sailing. He had grown up on a farm where a woman’s job definitely fell into the domain of the daily necessities such as food, clothing, a clean house, and personal hygiene. The thing he remembered most about his childhood was his mother’s cooking and her hounding him to take his bath, brush his teeth, and wash behind his ears. His father had never asked him once to wash behind his ears. In fact, his father had never even looked behind his ears, since the only ears that his father was ever concerned about were the kind on the stalk. His father had tried to encourage him to spend more time helping him with the farm work, but Rob had known from a very early age that farming was not his destiny. Instead he had spent most of his time doing research in the library about finance and commerce. Since, the time he’d gone door to door selling his mother’s corn muffins, he knew he was cut out to be a business man. For the next few years he spent his time helping his mother set up a bakery which he’d sold for her by the time he was sixteen to a major food franchiser, providing his family with a comfortable retirement fund for the rest of their lives. But, his father had never been able to accept the fact that he could retire and live off the profits from his wife’s company. As far as he was concerned, it had been a disgrace that his wife had ever gone to work in the first place.

  To Rob, it would have been different if his mother had chosen to sell tractors instead of corn muffins. In his mind there were just simply some things that women were not cut out to do. As supportive and protective as Rob had always been to his mother, it seemed that a taste of his father’s determination of what constituted women’s work had seeped into his genes, and Rob found himself struggling daily with the image of Alex driving his father’s tractor.

  Contrary to what was going on in Rob’s mind, Alex’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Her only excuse for staying on, she told herself, was her concern for the Island Fever – to which she had grown even more attached than she had been as her creator, as most sailors do with their vessels. And Raymond, well, Raymond in his own hands off sort of way kept the peace on board. His quiet, peaceful presence and his unexpected moments of insight, somehow managed to keep Rob and Alex on their best behavior. In other words, he kept them from throwing each other overboard, and I did just my best to get them to open up to their differences.

  Now Raymond, a man of few words, was not a by any stretch of the imagination a complex soul. He had simply lost himself somewhere in the early seventies on a beach in Jamaica, and had been found washed up on a beach in Antigua a decade later. He had actually worked for Joey for some three years now and felt quite content to simply go with the flow. Likened to most of the West Indians and thanks to copious amounts of ‘Blue Mountain Kaya,’ (or marijuana as we better know it), during his extended stay in Nigril, Raymond had gotten the hang of three-quarter time pretty early on.

  Unfortunately, their one week of day charters somehow turned into two, creating even more tension with the situation on Alex’s part. As unpleasant as day chartering may have been however, it did provide Rob with a tentative sense of financial security and left them with an enlightening experience – with several of their departing voyagers leaving them with such divinely unanswered questions to be pondered by the wisdom of Universe as: “If you can see the moon during the day can you see the sun at night?” and “Are we east or ‘west of the equator’?” – West of course, isn’t that why it’s called the ‘West’ Indies?

  1*BEAT TO WEATHER — Beating to weather simply means, forcing your sailing vessel to go in the only direction to which the law of physics does not permit it to go – into the direction from which the wind is blowing, known as ‘dead to weather,’ or more appropriately, ‘dead in the water.’ Due to the air foil dynamics of the mysterious workings of a sailing rig, which are somewhat akin to the dynamics of an airplane wing, it is physically impossible to approach the wind from any direction closer than approximately forty degrees from either side, if you’re lucky, requiring what is known as ‘tacking.’ Meaning, sailing for some distance pointing forty degrees away from your intended destination then turning and doing the same thing in the opposite direction, also forty degrees away from your intended target. One must do this maneuver over and over as many times as it takes to reach your final objective. Which means it is necessary that one sail nearly three times the actual distance of your intended target, in a manner which could easily be compared to riding the Giant Himalayan at the state fair in a torrential downpour in order to reach your final destination. And of course it never seems to fail, as in life, that the direction in which you wish to go is always, ‘dead to weather.’

  2*TWELVE VOLT MAN – The term being just another of those many Jimmy Buffettisms.3** Actually, the power on the boat was run off of twelve volt batteries which were topped off by either the boat’s solar panels, the wind charger while in port, or a portable generator, which one had to drag out and fire up at least every few days while sitting on anchor to insure that they had power aboard.

  3**JIMMY BUFFETTISMS — A phrase coined by the infamous Jimmy Buffett – that singer-songwriter-storyteller who is better known as the ‘King of Someplace Hot,’ an expert on Margaritaville, and in general, our modern-day ‘prophet of the tropics,’ who possesses a truly outrageous imagination.

  4*BOOM VANG — The derivation of ‘boom,’ is quite obvious due to its capacity to slam from side to side when the wind suddenly fills the sails from the opposite side of the boat. The boom is a spar6*** that runs perpendicular to the mast and is used to extend the foot of the sail, usually used along the bottom of the main, mainstaysail, and/or a self-tacking forward baby-staysail. Unrestrained booms have been known to kill, maim, and drown more sailors than the Titanic –thus the ‘boom vang,’ a moveable block and tackle used to restrain the boom from creating a hazard for all those aboard.

  5**SHEETS – The reference here to sheets is not about bed sheets of course. No, on a boat, ‘sheets’ or ‘jib sheets,’ refers to the lines with which to control the headsails (the most forward sails). The reasoning behind naming these ropes or lines sheets has never been qualified or explained to the modern sailor.

  6***SPAR — A spar could be used to refer to the masts and booms of a sailboat rigging; or it may also refer to gaffs and poles on a more traditional sailboat rig. Spars can be made of wood, aluminum, or other wondrous new synthetic products.

  7****TELLTALES — Pieces of ribbon or yarn approximately eight to nine inches long, which are located at or near the luff, (or forward edge of the sail), on both sides of the headsail and mainsail. Their movement when sailing tells the sailor how to adjust the sails by showing them just how the wind is hitting the sail.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Celestial Navigation

  “In life, there are no ordinary moments.

  Most of us never really recognize the most

  significant moments of our lives when they‘re happening.”

  Kathleen Magee

  After several weeks of sailing with him as her first mate, Alex was beginning to realize that sailing lessons might be critically in order for Rob. But most importantly, she realized that it was definitely not a job for her to tackle or even attempt, since Rob would likely feel more than a little uncomfortable to be labeled –her student. Not to mention her persistent lack of patience with him.

  Lucky for Alex, her good friend Randy had just arrived on the island to teach a seaman’s course and Celestial Navigation1* – an ancient means of navigation which today is nearly defunct due to the electronic age, but which was at o
ne time the only means of finding your way across an ocean. Today’s navigators of the seas and of life, have unfortunately become overly reliant on far too many electronic devices for guidance in determining their position and plotting their course. Back when Celestial Navigation was the accepted means of navigating, a Spirit Guide, or Guardian Angel’s job was easy, since people didn’t have much else to listen to prior the age of electronics. Today the masses are so busy listening to TV, movies, digital, CD’s, radio, sideband, broadband, high–fi, boom boxes, surround sound, and walkmans that they can’t even begin to hear the more subtle messages that are struggling to be heard over the decibels that are being drilled into their brains twenty–four hours a day. Today, humans have become so submersed in megahertz and kilohertz that they’ve unfortunately reached a point of mass hypnosis by multimedia.

  Thus, being someone’s Guide through life is hard work even if they happened to be tuned in to my station and an avid listener. But, it’s especially hard if you’ve been entrusted with the lifetime guidance of a soul like Rob who had managed to spend most of this life navigating in a fog without his receiver or his running lights on – relying only on something as drastic as a foghorn to warn him whenever he needed to change course.

  What Rob still didn’t understand was that he had all the help and insight available he needed – all he had to do was ask the right questions and he would have received the right answers – that is of course, if he were listening. The real problem was that Rob had not yet reached that point in his upward evolution where he was willing to listen in order to hear those whispers of advice that I or anyone else had to offer him. Up until now, Rob’s life had been as shallow as a keelboat stranded on a sandbar in a rapidly receding tide. He was yet to realize that unless he learned how to read the tides and search for deeper waters, he was destined to eventually find himself at some point, permanently high and dry.

  Now, please don’t make the mistake of determining my role to be Rob’s sole life teacher, since there is much I am still to learn myself by helping Rob on his journey across the vast ocean of life. To Rob, I am simply his tour-guide through life, trying my best to help him on his search to navigate his own course to Paradise, and serve him by highlighting the points of interest along the way. Ultimately, Rob must be the one to do the work on his own. But unfortunately, Rob was still busy searching for Paradise, and until he stopped looking and started working to create it, he was destined to find himself on that eternal wheel of life going round and round until he finally got it right.

  As his Guide, I take little or no credit for Rob’s achieved increments of enlightenment, nor do I accept the blame for his lack thereof. In fact, I am only one of many Guides or pilots, if you will, that will be offered to Rob during this lifetime. Although having been a sailor myself, I feel more than qualified to direct him in this particular phase of his life, however frustrating it may be for me. It would however also take earthly teachers to instruct Rob in many aspects of life, including, but not limited to sailing. Eventually, Rob would grow to understand that life offers many teachers. But alas, until the student is ready, the teacher is simply just another one of many unknowingly met along the way.

  True, Rob was about to attend class on sailing, but what he didn’t realize was that he, as well as everyone else, was struggling to graduate from the classroom of life in order to get back to his higher existence on ‘The Other Side.’ Many never realize that the real purpose of their life is to take every event of every day that they are given and use it to learn, grow, and turn themselves into more enlightened beings.

  Most humans spend their entire life searching for something that will fulfill them, totally ignoring the many opportunities they are given to learn and ascend to that higher state of being. Instead, they spend their time searching for something more than they have today, or had yesterday, or hope to have tomorrow. They feel there is no logic in truly living today, because tomorrow has so much more to offer. Some work their lives away in order to buy their ticket for that boat which will take them to their ultimate final destination, not realizing of course, that it is one ticket that simply cannot be purchased. A few, like Rob, do at least start to grasp this concept and realize that simply climbing on the boat in the first place is, in fact, half the battle. After all, if one does not at least attempt to make the journey, it’s impossible to ever reach the other shore. But, the most important thing to remember is that you never know what’s on the other side, so you may as well enjoy the ride getting there before you reach the inevitable – old age, failing eyesight, and hemorrhoids.

  I was lucky my last time around on this planet called Earth. You see, I was born in the islands to a woman who had never known the true meaning and security of an honest wedding ring on her finger. And, even though my mother had been unhappy with her life, I somehow managed to learn the art of enjoying life while still in her womb. To me, Paradise always came easy. I guess you could call it my specialty. So, here, on ‘The Other Side,’ I find myself assigned to one of its misguided seekers – a yet to be enlightened human named Rob who has at least managed to catch the boat even if it may have been the wrong one. But no matter, somehow it will be my job to help him back on track in order to find the right course which was, you see, predetermined before he ever arrived here.

  Luckily, Alex had managed to convince Rob to study sailing since imparting technical information to one’s assignee is less than practical for a Spirit Guide, not to mention the advancement of today’s technology which is far over my head. Alex had also managed to diplomatically sit Rob down and layout the ‘rules of the road’ so to speak that first night that they had returned from charter. Once the passengers had gone and the boat was cleaned and put away, Alex bravely stepped into the cockpit with her nightly glass of wine where Rob was having his first rum and Coke. As she sat down, her leg lightly brushed his. This time he noticed it, that electrical charge that sparked ever so subtly like a moment of recognition when one smells a pleasingly familiar scent or tastes something pleasing to the pallet – the subtle senses of touch and smell and taste which are so taken for granted, so rarely recognized for the sensual pleasures they can offer.

  “Rob, I know that baby-sitting sunburnt, seasick tourists doesn’t exactly sound like the solution to finding eternal happiness,” proceeded Alex carefully, “But I need some support here. My job is to drive the boat, not to play hostess. You’ve got to take over some of that responsibility yourself or hire another crew member to help Raymond, at least while we’re doing day charters. I can’t fix sunburns, guide snorkel trips, and run the boat responsibly too,” finished Alex relieved that she had actually had the guts to get her frustrations off her chest.

  Alex drew in her breath as Rob grew silent for a moment. She was afraid of how he would respond to her honesty. After all, she didn’t really know him that well.

  “You’re right, I didn’t realize how much work day chartering would be… I mean it’s kind of like being a kindergarten monitor isn’t it?” answered Rob eliciting an acknowledged chuckle from Alex. “Somehow I thought we would sail this boat around and the tourists would just sort of entertain themselves. I didn’t realize they’d be so dependent on us. I guess it’s kind of like my stock market clients,” reasoned Rob trying to relate it to something more familiar. “They’re depending on us to hold their hand and tell them what to do.

  “I suppose they realize that we have their lives in our hands,” interjected Alex.

  “In the stock market, their fortunes are as precious as their lives,” contemplated Rob out loud as he thought about how everything in life was truly based on the same principles, even if they were disguised in vastly different playing fields. “I think I can handle it,” Rob reasoned with a hint of uncertainty, nodding his head as he thought further of what the job might require of him, “As long as I can get past the queasiness.” Alex smiled, relieved that he understood what she needed from him. “Maybe it was time to re-evaluate her opinion of him,” s
he thought.

  “It’ll pass, once you’re able to relax and just go with the flow.”

  During the days to follow, Rob made an effort to be more attentive to his job as host on the Island Fever, and in the evenings he attended class with Randy while Alex tended to the boat, which always seemed to need repair due some calamity from that day’s charter. It afforded her some quite time on the boat, alone, while Rob was busy learning to tie his knots, convert his knots to miles, and his what to do’s and what not to do’s to his new nautical investment.

  As the days went by, Alex could actually see a modicum of improvement in Rob’s sailing skills, however small they may have been. At least he wasn’t on the verge of bringing the masts down anymore. But most importantly, Rob was starting to relax and enjoy sailing instead of dreading each and every time they left the dock. By the time they had gotten to Celestial Navigation, Rob was hooked – even though he knew that he’d likely never have to use it. Learning to navigate by the stars had captured his interest and had at least re-focused his sights heavenward. Now if he could only get his radio frequencies tuned-into the right channels.

  Late at night after class, with the boat at anchor in the harbor, Rob would sometimes lay on the Island Fever’s deck with Alex, looking up at the heavenly bodies above them racing to see who could find the most constellations first – receiving bonus points for shooting stars. It was Rob’s laughter – Alex heard for the first time that she decided she liked best about him. When he actually allowed himself, Rob would laugh like a boy of ten with a smile that made her heart race like it had the night she’d ministered to his burn. Once again, Alex ignored it and kept the door closed and the lock locked on the safe of her emotions.