Issue 7 : Jul/Aug 1999
I dinghied ashore shortly after 8 a.m., in good time to catch the coffee group at the Conch Inn. (You’ll find it on your chart, at Marsh Harbor in the Abacos, Bahamas.) I was living alone on my Sans Souci, and I was at least a quart low on human contact and hungry for conversation and a toasted blueberry muffin.
Charlie Price, a spry 83-year-old former chemistry professor and singlehander of Abacos cruising fame, had just sat down. (Charlie is a singlehander in more ways than one; he lost his right hand just above the wrist at age six.) George Friesen welcomed me aboard. He’s 76 and Canadian, but has lived in the Abacos for 50 years. We ordered up and chatted weather. In a lull, I raised the question of the day: Do you believe in love at first sight?
Charlie set his coffee cup down and slid backward in time. He smiled. I saw a sparkle of delight in his eyes. “You bet. I walked into a freshman college classroom and knew right then and there that a certain girl sitting in the front row was going to be Mrs. Price. Yes, sir! Totally smitten. No mistake. The romance lasted 50 years.”
“And,” I thought, “he has five truly outstanding children as evidence.”
George had been listening patiently; now he took a coffee warm-up and seized the floor, glowing with enthusiasm. “I didn’t even have to see my Myrna to know she was the one. I was in the Canadian Air Force on my way overseas and just had time for one blind date. She was only 17, but when I heard that sweet voice on the phone — well . . .” He stopped to give his glasses a wipe. They were married
for 45 years, a wonderful marriage and
three kids who would be a credit to
anyone.
Here were three widowers, long in the tooth and talking about real romances of yesteryear. I finished my muffin. Charlie had been doing some glasses-polishing of his own, but now he put them back on and looked at me. “OK, Dick, it’s your turn.”
“Well,” I said, “it happened right after I jumped ship from a bulk freighter in Lima, Peru. While I was in that part of the world, I decided to see more of it. A clever travel agent found me an empty passenger berth on a small motor vessel that was scheduled to spend five days in the Galapagos Islands. Great, I was traveling light and I’m always flexible.”
I drank a little coffee and took a breath while I pictured the scene. “We went ashore in inflatables, in considerable surf. We carried our shoes and socks in buckets, and they stayed reasonably dry. We had rolled up our pants, but we were wet to the hips by the time we got ashore. The steep climb off the beach to a rocky, wind-swept barren plateau was tough on my limited lung capacity, but I made it.
“Our guide was a local girl, very pretty, with straight black hair tied back. She flashed those almond eyes and tossed her ponytail as she led us through that strange landscape and described the native flora and fauna. After about an hour, we got to a flat place with some big rocks, and she called a brief halt. ‘If some of you want to sit here for a few minutes,’ she said, ‘fine. Don’t wander from the trail. I’ll take the rest of you folks on to that rocky point and be back.’ I welcomed the break, and wished I could find shade. It was high noon on the equator, but there was a nice breeze with a tang. Bird cries and guano everywhere.
“I looked up the trail, and waddling toward where I sat on my resting rock was a blue-footed booby. They stand three feet tall and have a five-foot wingspan; they have big yellow eyes with jet black pupils, and blue webbed feet that they make a show of during courting rituals. This one came right up to me. She cocked her head and seemed to decide I was someone special. She turned around, picked up a twig, and placed it on the toe of my sneaker. She was building a nest! Twig after twig was carefully placed and arranged. After each add-on, she looked up, cocked her head, and stared me down. They don’t blink. It was fascinating. I was enthralled.
“Too soon, my companions returned and our guide called for me to join up or I’d miss the boat. I reluctantly slipped my sneaker out from under our nest. My friend cocked her head, added one more twig, and watched me straggle behind my shore party.”
Our waitress stopped by with refills. Charlie accepted his, then looked toward the floor. “Dick,” he asked thoughtfully, “were you wearing those blue canvas boat shoes?”
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