The Extended Weekend

She knew what to do, her mind was still crisp for an old girl her age and she kicked up her heels in a sprint that was intended to impress only me ... and in that exact second, we again became as one.

After entering open water she wanted to prove to me what she was truly capable of and as I turned her wheel hard a port while adding every square inch of her remaining sail she listed hard starboard accelerating us to a speed that literally took my breath away.

Hart of Joy is a big boat with seventy two feet of true hull length built on a super wide beam. Typically a yacht of her size requires a crew of at least three, five if it were up to the Harbor Master, but her and I had been together many years before all of those rules and regulation nonsense and together we have always operated as one. Besides, the thought anyone else (other than an occasional lady guest) invading our private time together would be preposterous to me. So I've continued making large annual contributions to the local Port Authority and sizable donations to the Coast Guard Association and that always tends to make them look the other way when it comes to me.

With a three quarter turn of the wheel the wind was fully at our back and within that second she righted herself, got up on her toes and at what seemed to now be a warp speed we began our voyage south.

As a much needed stress relieving adrenaline rush consumed me, I reached in the small bar cabinet to the right of the pilots chair, pulled out a crystal rocks glass with my trusty bottle of Bookers and after pulling the cork with my teeth old pirate style, I poured myself two fingers strait up: "Hell, I know it's far too early." I remember thinking to myself: "But just this one before breakfast is what the doctor ordered." And I took a sip, snipped the end from my fine Cuban, bent down behind the console and while shielding it from the wind, I toasted the business end and lit my cigar.

"Due south please pretty lady." I remember requesting of her aloud: "Due south" and all troubles, responsibilities and concerns of business life were left far behind as we traveled along well beyond the speed of the wind like a couple of mythical gods.

Experiences on the ocean will very as much as the weather differs, but that day was picturesque. Aqua marine blue sky and water with the temperature warming to perfection as it burned off the remaining haze and painted God's sky with only the few high puffy looking clouds.

The sight of all that breathtaking beauty caused me to remember only part of a poem I was forced to learn early on in grade school: "I want to go back to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the ski." thinking; "How on earth could anyone consider this lonely?" but then again, I realized it was all about the weather, that beautiful weather and I thanked God that it wasn't a rainy ominous grey.

Sailing together for what seemed only minutes, suddenly turned into hours as the onset of reality morphed me into real time caused by the setting of the sun, the stiff ache in my shoulders and back and my sudden weak mortal feeling of hunger. I knew in that instant we were well past the few checkpoints that I had so meticulously charted for us sometime earlier that month in hope that someday we would actually make this trip.

When I saw us pass Marco Island I realized that I had missed my intended target of Big Cypress National Preserve, big time: "Hell! ... I was daydreaming ... Damn it Swiftt!" I thought to myself, remembering that I had really wanted to lay in there for our first night together this run: "But then again we had no time table." I reasoned, so I started looking for new unchartered shoreline that would accommodate the both of us.

"We must be somewhere just south of Everglades National Park," I thought and that's when I noticed what appeared to be a moderately sized, deep water cove, far up a head port side.

"Sorry to let you down Old Girl." I apologized aloud: "Prudence has informed me that this is more than enough for the both of us in one day," and though I knew in my heart that she wanted to continue on, giving in to only my command, she lowered her sails, slowed her gait and together we looked for the best path to those calmer waters where we would anchor and spend our first night in many months together: "I know Old Girl," as I continued to pamper her in my mind: "It has been far too long but we're together now," and I swear to you as I write this, I could almost hear her purr of contentment.

Over the years I have learned to love the seclusion of the water's edge surrounding South Florida. Those at the extreme southern tip on our Gulf, near around and past the Keys are truly remarkable. That unspoiled shoreline always looks as if both God and time had forgotten it in some way: "Maybe to attend to the issues more in need of His attention," I thought, and though I was relatively sure that I had never seen that cove before its primeval beauty was of no exception.

With little concern for my aging body and rusty docking skills in concert with the arthritic pain in both my wrists and thumbs, with a hand on the joystick and a close anxious eye on her depth gages we snuggled on into that little cove and came to rest about fifteen feet from a beautiful tropical backdrop.

"Swiftt, you've still got it!" I thought as I realized we were literally taking up all but a few yards of the total width and length of that beautiful deep natural pool.

In less than an hour we were anchored and tied off fore and aft, her sails were both down and covered and there was nothing more to do but fire up the on deck grill for a self cleaning burn off while I went below to prepare my feast.

Prior to opening the hatch, I took a moment to reflect on not only how far we had come that day, but where we actually were: "Well God, my compliments" I still to this day remember saying aloud: "Though not originally planned Lord, this 'IS' truly beautiful and I want to thank you for all of it!"

As I watched the last red glow of the sunset start to illuminate the water causing its yellow and orange reflection to dance over the tangled overgrown Kudzu covered Palmetto and Cabbage palms, I couldn't help but think how it made them appear as if they were all ablaze.

Thinking that a little soft music was in order to compliment my cooking prowess, I selected and slipped in my old CD stand by (The Rat Pack) wire brushed the grill surface, reduced the heat from 'Cleaning' to a 'Medium/High' and after slathered everything in olive oil, I loaded the top rack and closed the lid.

Seconds after I swallowed the last bite of one the best steak dinners I could ever remember eating, my trusty open bottle of Booker's found my left hand, then three fingers in a short glass over two rocks magically appeared in my right. I lit another cigar, lowered the music, turned off the deck lighting and kicked back in my deck lounger to enjoy them both with my boat, the pleasant motion of the tide and the unspoiled brightness of Heaven's stars.

I woke in my stateroom from what seemed to be a pleasant sound of a woman's voice humming something. When I couldn't remember coming below, I looked over at the clock: "Three forty five." I noted: "Just under three hours before first light" I thought and as those angelic musical sounds started to fade away with the tell tale cobwebs the bourbon had left my head, I considered that they were part of whatever pleasurable dream I must have been having, so I dismissed them.

The soft slow motion of the sea when you're on a fine craft like The Heart of Joy makes for the most peaceful and restful sleep imaginable complete with pleasurable dreams that to my regret, I've never been able to remember after I awaken.

Since this was my Birthday-four-day intended for only me and my boat, I decided to lay awake for a while and revel in her loving cradling care just to relax and enjoy listening to the peaceful purring sounds of her creeks and groans before partaking in my morning ritual of pounding several espressos.

I guess I lay looking up in the darkness for only a few minutes when I thought that I started to hear it again, a soft feminine voice humming a tune unfamiliar to me: "Was I hearing it, or was it in my head?" I asked myself thinking that it could still be the effects of last night's Booker's ringing in my ears.

When I slowly sat up in order to listen more closely: "Am I hearing it ... or am I feeling it?" I started to question myself. Then I realized it actually seemed to be a little of both. Very faint, soft and almost annoying if it hadn't been so intoxicating as it softly vibrated in an attempt to actually avoid my ears. Then it was gone.

"This can't be!" I said under my breath: "It's still dark and far too secluded here. Hell we're anchored off a forbidding swamp portion of the lower Everglades." I reasoned.

But now I was fully awake. I needed to get up anyway, I didn't want to spend all of my time off in bed, so on my early morning stiff legs, I stumbled to the galley to start grinding dark roast beans into the fine powder from which I make my espresso. Within minutes I was on deck wearing only my silk boxers, holding a stainless mug that started to burn my hand while reaching for a deck chair with the other.

After fumbling the chair into position to sit and enjoy the eminent dawn with my coffee and my boat, I sat down, threw the dew moist blanket over my cold legs and laid my head back to just relax and enjoy the coming of the first light of day like I have constantly done when I'm down here in Florida every day since I can remember.

Then ... I heard it again as it seemed to fill the cove.

Other than the sound of a gentle tide lapping the port hull, it was unmasked this time and I quietly sat for a moment trying to pin point what direction it was coming from: "Could it actually be human or something I was completely imagining?" I considered, then: "Starboard, yeah, starboard and a bit aft!" I determined.

Cautiously I removed the blanket and while making every effort to exit that chair while making as little noise as possible, I did my very best to home in on the direction of that sound. Finally I slowly and silently made my way toward it.

Just as I reached the aft starboard corner of the deck and peered over the gunwale, the first light of day had started to lift the blanket of foggy mist from the water's surface unveiling three feet of beach that it had previously hidden from my view. I was sure that had noticed it to some extent yesterday, but I was so impressed with primeval beauty of this thick tropical forest that I hadn't given that little strip of sand much thought.

While I stood straining my eyes in quiet search of the feminine source of that heavenly sound, I noticed the leafy vegetation slightly move and a fawn appeared out of the bush and boldly stood hoof deep in the soft sand to gaze at the salt water.

And still that magical humming continued, in fact it seemed to grow stronger and I remember becoming curiously overanxious when I realized by the increasing volume that those sounds were not only coming closer to me, but if I was lucky I might just get a glimpse of the source.

I remember emitting a low uncontrolled slightly audible gasp when I noticed the light silhouette of what looked to be a young woman stop and stand just inside the same dense wall of Kudzu that had moments earlier produced that fawn. I remember questioning my own sanity: "Have I lost my mind? "Could it be possible that I'm actually imagining all of this?" But those sounds that I was hearing in my ears and experiencing in my mind were now far too real for any of that.

The exact moment her small slender shape fully appeared in that soft low morning light, I could tell that she was somehow totally oblivious to us taking up all but a few square feet of what was obviously her cove. I was also in fear that when she finally notice our presence she would disappear back into the wood.

I didn't want to startle her, though I was definitely compelled to somehow calmly convey our presence I remained still and watched as she stepped out onto the strip of sand that separated the tropics from that tiny gulf cove.

I was mesmerized; I'll admit it, I mean there she stood all a glow from the soft morning light in all her radiant beauty and I could see the light pink complexion of her angelic face starkly in contrast to her jet black hair that she had pulled back tight in a long flowing ponytail behind her head. She was wearing a pail tan or off white close fitting, sleeveless dress like thing that went down and stopped just above the tops of her knees.

It was as if I was watching a live play from an upper balcony for her motion was defined and fluid as she started to untie and disrobe as if I wasn't even there.

While I stood frozen, continuing to admire her, she confidently lifted that one piece garment up over her head and in an instant it was off and she carefully laid it behind her across some brush. Now wearing only some form of a thin looking undergarment, she waded out a few steps into the calmer deep portion of the cove and started paddling around it the cold November salt water.

As I raised my hand in a gesture to prompt myself to finally speak, the fawn jumped, then disappeared into that dense thicket and she turned and looked directly at the stern of my boat. With only the slightest reaction of obvious caution she slowly raised her head to face me and her half smile in a surprised expression proved that she hadn't known until that exact moment that she was accompanied by an old would be captain and his seventy-two feet of yacht.

She seemed only mildly inquisitive at first and with all my experience in business dealings, from all my history of public speaking engagements and with my endless vast array of convincing influential bullshit, to my disappoint all I was able to muster was a novice, non-creative and overly self embarrassing explanation of: "Well, good morning!" And her head cocked to the side like an inquisitive puppy and as her whole face began to smile at me, my heart melted.

"I hope I didn't startle you." I expressed: "I missed our marker several miles north so I decided put in here for the night." But I knew as I spoke she didn't understand one word of what I was saying.

Finally realizing that I was still wearing only my underwear I said: "If you will please wait right there," and I hand gestured my best prompt of 'Stay put' "and I'll be down in a minute." Within seconds I was below pulling on some shorts and the first t-shirt that I could grab.

By the time I made it back on deck she was standing on that thin strip of sand with her back to me and I watched as she struggled to quickly pull that dry garment down over her smooth wet flesh.

Without even thinking I rode the swimming platform down to the surface and eased into the cold winter water: "DEAR GOD!" I remember thinking: "How in hell can she stand this?" And as the chill of the water started sucking the body heat right out of me I was sitting back up on the platform shivering while hugging my knees up around my face and I watching as she turned back to look at me.

Smiling directly at me now, she pulled her long black ponytail to the front her, bent forward a bit and started ringing out the excess salt water. Feverishly trying to consider how to make my way to her in those few yards of fridge water without dying from shock, heart failure or hypothermia, I stood and watched her turn and fade back into the foliage: "Damn!" I actually said aloud: "She's gone."

Standing there shivering while looking at the thick vegetation for a moment, I turned and climbed the ladder. What more could I do? I hurried back down below, peeled off my wet cloths and literally jumped under a hot shower. After quickly dressing in big boy long pants, polo and a light jacket, I made myself another espresso and headed back up on deck to see what was what ... but no magical tune, and worse than that, no Angel of the Rainforest.

"Eggs" I thought: "Bacon and eggs." I reasoned, though this may sound odd to many, I'm Italian and while growing up we were taught that food was always the magical elixir that cured ... well, everything and after waking from a night of (let's just say) a few too many bourbons and losing sight of a most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on, I needed something to both soak up last night's alcohol and sooth my bruised emotions.

I grabbed my Grandmother's large heavy well seasoned black iron skillet that my sisters would kill for (or me had they'd known I had it) stacked it full of groceries and I was back on deck frying bacon. Just as I started blotting the excessive grease off the bacon while getting ready to start my eggs, I heard the stainless steel tubing on the boarding ladder "creak" and when I looked over, there was her head, shoulders and that captivating smile.

I'm not sure how long I actually stood there in sheer amazement just gazing at her but I knew from the slightest turn of her head, perhaps to exit, it had to be a while: "No, no!" I remember saying: "Please" and I walked over, extended my hand and to my surprise she reached out and took it as I welcomed her aboard.

Her tiny little hand was warm as she firmly held mine and she was dry and her scent was all herbal and floral and when I peaked down behind her I noticed she had tied off a small homemade looking wooden boat of sorts.

"Please, have a seat," I offered as I gestured to the little cafe table while pulling out the chair closest to her: "How do you like your eggs?" I rhetorically asked and when she just smiled back at me: "Over easy it is."

We sat and we ate and we visited without so much as a word of communication between us, but somehow the spoken word wasn't needed. Her magical presence with me made me feel fortunate, specially chosen somehow and I was confident that she was enjoying our time together as much as I was ... but: "Where do we go from here?" manifested itself in my head as it started to linger in the recesses of my mind but she was cute and inquisitive an particularly amused by the plastic spring water bottle that I handed her and very fond of the way the cap screwed on and off.

As she leaned back in the comfort of her chair and closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, I turned on a little soft Dean Martin and without even opening her eyes I watched her smile.

That time seemed to fly by as we spent that morning together and she actually brought back feelings in me from my high school conquests and I wanted to soak up every second of that time with her like a sponge.

Being cautious and not wanting to frighten, insult her or promote the wrong idea, I finally found enough nerve to communicate that I would be proud to show her the rest of my boat and the growing gray ski and oncoming chill in the air indicating the eminent feel of an upcoming rain seemed to help as much as my charm and she took my arm and after a quick tour on deck, she willingly followed me below.

She was like an amused child as she looked on and over everything with great interest a big smile and wide eyes as we went from the salon through the galley and each of the staterooms with their own dedicated heads. When I particularly took the time to show her beyond the self explanatory part just how toilets work though I knew that she understood, she still seemed extremely amazed at the very concept.

A couple bottles of wine, a bunch of grapes, a sliced apple and a nice hunk of honey soaked Brie later we sat listening to the rain on deck and some soft music while we shared each other's company. I have to admit that though I both admired and was definitely grateful of her bravery to come and visit with me, her actual boldness to do so was still somehow very puzzling to me.