Day 13 kayaking back to Loreto from a deserted rocky beach south of Nopolo
March 30, 2011
Yesterday, waiting for the couscous to cook, I stood on this deserted rocky beach and used the last of my gallon of washing water to rinse my naked, salty body. Isla Carmen smiled in the distance. I remembered the fertile green scent of the sea, the defiant mother gull and her unhatched young, turning within their shells, waiting to enter a world they had not yet seen. In my other life, I am still asleep, maybe turning over to match the spaces of my body with the warm curves of hers. In my other life, I do not often see sun rise. But then, I rarely go to sleep so early in the night. There are always other things to do, electricity to power lights and screens. Here there are o nay Shahe's flute and my journal. After a day full of energetic adventure, an hour in the darkness with these is usually enough. The stars hypnotize us into a deep, dream filled sleep.
This is our last morning out. Shahe and I listen to the 'early birds' as they fly through the dawn sky in search of their first meal. Fish roil the flat water below camp. We eat our own food and watch the sun rise from behind the graceful curve of Carmen's back. As above, so below.
Unlike the other mornings, today we pack in silence. Unspoken is a small mourning for the end of this 'other life', the one that connects us so strongly to nature. For one last time, we pack our boats, slip into the cockpits, take our paddles in our hands and pull forward into the sea. There is a gentle wind behind our backs, helping us make the eight mile journey in two hours. The rising sun silhouettes Shahe as it did the first day. This time, I pause my paddle to capture the image of him, wild and free upon the water. This time, I want to remember.