Navigator @ MindSay

It didn’t occur to me on Sunday morning.  I had a list of clients  and  looking at a couple of the jobsites reminded me of the would-be  solutions I thought I’d try.  The beach  was following the tide and our marine layer was pushing back the brighter part of morning for sensible people who slept late or indulged a desperate need deep under the covers with their love.  

 

I had been  up e-a-r-l-y  and should have known  that not being able to sleep was a  sign.   I made hot bread and then thought about which to  choose . . . red or white  for breakfast  with  hot French  bread with melted brie and butter?  If you must know  . . . white,  ice cold . . .  “a charming light wine,  with a delicate bouquet,  and just a hint of fruit, aparagus  and walnut” . .  .  it was buy one  bottle and get the next for 5 cents sale at Bevmo, 88 pts according to Wine Spectator.  Very tasty and finally  numbing.

 

Berloiz joined me and an hour later the sun rose.

 

I thought of the jobsites again and thought  back to the crime scene I just finished.  There was damage and  . . . .

 

It took me all night to put it back enough for the locks to hold it together and how proud  I was when the doors shut  properly  and the locks snapped into place.   The pay off was watching everyone just turn and walk away, knowing  it  was secure.   I get “asked for” when it’s a mess.     No  one sees my  work, or  understands getting it square and level and smooth . . .  with  just the tools I keep  on the  truck and a quick  run to  the nearest Home Depot or Lowe’s.    

 

I had enough brie and French bread  where I could finish the bottle, or enough wine to finish the  brie and  bread . . .   I called and left a message for Temptress . . . be  there in two hours.  I call the owner but I leave the messages  for Temptress . .  .

 

I knew he’d be there.  Getting a crew is only phone calls  away with the guys who travel and sail.  I was the third man there and the  mate envied my last few sips of breakfast.   The cool wine flushed his face and he took my bag and alerted the cook.   I checked my gear and radios and talked to Hector at the Coast Guard.

“How  LONG have you been up?”   He laughed and gave me a hard time with the reports.

“Crime scene, and then the next thing I know . . .” 

“Jesus  God . . .  Get some coffee “G”  

 

The Cook  .  .  . came up behind me as I returned from the wine cellar  and  looked  in my  bag for the screw.   Not  who  I thought it  would  be . . . 

“Marta?”

“no!”

“hi?”

 

My Marta . . . reader-of-palms-and-astrologer, who made me soup and roasted “anything”  . . . who  had beautiful-blouse-full-of-breasts and long  chestnut hair . . . was NOT standing there.  I could tell this woman would never take the time  to fully  understand me like My  Marta or tell my  future the way I wanted  to hear  it  with a happy ending.

 

“hi  .  . . I’m uhhh . . . I  was  wondering if you had some French bread, brie and   . . . butter?

“Si”   She took the bottle from me and turned around (red California pinot, after  all it was almost 10:00 a.m.) and I thought she was going to put it  back.  She came back with a heavy porcelin  mug,  poured  the wine and  put her  hands on her hips. 

“Busy  morning!”
“Se nombre . . . es . . .”

“No!  . . . Por-tu-guses”

“Poached eggs, butter  . . .  and the bread?”

“ . . .  and brie!  Si”

“.  . . uhhh. . .  gracias? . . .  thank you . . .”

 

My  guy came down,  and I was in luck. I recognized  his “first mate” from  the last trip . . .  she smiled and I got a very-swell  hug and kiss .  . . (she kissed me then took her thumb, while smiling .  . . and wiped  the lipstick off my lips . . . and giggled . . .)

“ARE YOU  listening to me??”

“no. . . I’m sure of that . . . no,  I’m  not  listening”

“WOULD YOU m-i-n-d getting your shit together and giving me the plan by  the time we get  out of here. Have you filed yet?”

“Who ARE you? WHO is the  cook? Where’s My Marta? The cook doesn’t like me . . .  I can tell . . . I think I  still have  some  lipstick  you  missed . . . ”

“Focus and file the plan!!!   I own the boat. Your Marta is traveling and this is Riesa,  who does like you, or you’d have your throat cut by  now and she asked to meet you specifically . . .  and Quit kissing MY first mate . . . “

 

“Riesa?”   She came in  with my poached eggs and some bacon as a bonus and re-filled my mug  and sat a larger  cup of hot hot espresso closer  to me.  

“Yes. I have a shower for you,  after you eat.  My brother is crewing.”

“Thank you, very  much . . . uhhh?  . . . your brother is screwing? Can he be reached  by  phone? . . . 

“C-R-E-W-I-N-G.  You have met him. CREWING . .  . You  will talk later ”

“Don’t take the  wine!!!”      

 

I’d had several bites and then remembered to file our plan and check  headings. I popped topside to a “look” from captain, crew  . . . waiting  for the headings  . . .   more than a few raised eyebrows.   I called them out and handed the sheet to the Captain . . .  blue water and as much wind as I  could find . . . and  I felt Temptress take her first plunge and felt her kiss . .  .

 

G.

P.S.  Miss  you every day . . .

 

I was a guest in the house, so I couldn't be too obvious even though I was staring when I first saw her stretched out. Soft curves that she was obviously proud of showing. She was beautiful, sensuous, and I would never have enough money. . .  She moved just a little and I watched her move.  I wanted to just brush against her, my fingertips feeling how smooth, and get a closer look at . . . her . . . I wanted to

 

When she arrived and her things she brought with her were put away and she was made comfortable. Her "companion" had kept her to himself for the past 3 months and spent time away from friends and work just to be with her. That was not hard to understand. $2.2 million is what it took to have her. That was what I was told in confidence. That was not counting what she needed to be happy and keep her in the style that she was accustomed too. That much money, and the necessary resourcs were "just part of the deal". I looked at her, stared, and I wanted to walk over and  . . . . peel back the last bit of fabric that concealed her and I wanted to see "all" of her. The curves without anything covering her, and her softest smoothest parts. I didn't have any money compared to her "companion" but I am a man . . with skill . . .  mmmm . ..

 

My host came over and introduced himself as I stood there admiring her. We were going to be underway in about an hour. His $2,2 million dollar mistress is an Trippdesign 80ft sailing yacht. Two-point-two million dollars was what it cost to bring her into the world. That's not counting the extras like "thermo-molded sails", latest Nav equipment, or the patte' for the galley and the Cordon Bleu' chef that would be with us this weekend. This boat was built to circumnavigate and keep you in style. The interior as beautifully designed as the lines of the boat.

 

I wrote about "The Dungeon" that was clandestinely built in Gene's building in Santa Monica. Gene and his partner, Lance, live in Newport Beach. I met the man who is currently the Navigator for this boat through Gene. He invited me here for the weekend and introduced me to the man who owns this beautiful yacht.  I learned how to navigate in the Marines and have kept up my skills. I've always been fascinated by being able to steer a course out of sight from anything familar. I read every sailing story and best remember my history classes where explorers took off into the unknown, with zero point of reference. I've navigated desserts, and unknown terrain, once or twice in the Mediterranean and Agean.  

 

The Captain had previously owned a 47ft. yacht.  He had accompanied her delivery from launch and gotten instruction and advice. The past three months had been orientating himself to bigger boats, the latest equipment and putting together a crew.

 

We were underway by 8:00 am and in blue water shortly. Gene and Lance were doing their best "I am king of the world" impressions from Titanic, until the spray hit them as they stood like the Leo and Kate on the bow.  They retreated to looking over the Captains shoulder and sipping coffee . . . .

 

The Navigator spoke crisply and explained what he was doing and why. I was quiet and when I answered a question he asked, it was to see if I spoke the lingo and understood what he was saying. He refilled our cups of coffee and I got a look that I passed, I at least had enough knowledge that he could really teach me something. I made notes on questions I had. There was no time to get into explainations or answer one question and then the three more the answer made me think of. Since I was learning, I made notes and then tried the calculations, reading the data and trying to anticipate the information the Captain asked for regarding weather conditions and reports, coastal manisfestations, not just the points on the compass. My acquaintance/friend enjoyed teaching and when I thought of one thing, he told me the second . . . and third . . and fourth . . . things that I needed to get used to anticipating.  I'm well schooled and better experienced in my navigation skills, and this was overwhleming. Much much more than I expected.

 

We had been out for over two hours before I got the time to really look around and watch the crew. Her Captain was capable and we had a wonderful day. Returning  is not just the reverse of going out. You determine the information again and compare and adjust. I was invited for dinner and was only referred to as the FNG until I was introduced to the rest of the crew. The current Navigator will be racing and not always available and I was offered the opportunity to learn and maybe become part of her crew.  That discussion was as overwhelming as trying to keep up with what the Navigator was telling me early in the day.

 

Its easy to see why people get so emotional about sailing, competing and putting so much effort into it. I plan on buying a tiny boat and learning the skills to sail. My opporutnity was based on what I learned in the Marines and being fortunate enough to be offered a position of responsibility.

 

G.

P.S.  I don't get paid for this, but do it for the "experience" of it, the fun and opportunity to be on such a boat, and to have responsibility. Why is it that is considered a foolish thing? Not every friend feels that way, but some,that I see less and less of just shake their head.