Some Hawk's nest photos

Editor's Note: I had photos that corresponded to this particular blog entry, as well as the next two, but can't seem to upload them. Keep an eye out for 'em later, blogfans! -Ed



HAWK’S NEST, CAT ISLAND. THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2008
Jack the mackalack here. The Jackalope. You ever hear that song that Steve Earle did, a Supersuckers cover- “Creepy Jackalope Eye?” It’s pretty good. Anyway, we’re here on ol’ Cat Island. We had smooth sailin’s the other day when we came up here, crossed most of it before noon, having set out at like 8 or something. It was too early to understand the concept of time, but it was understood well enough to know it was pretty damn early. So, the massive waves we were afraid of did not materialize, maybe just a few swells in the beginning, so it was very pleasant. I guess the fourth time’s the charm, having been turned back at Cape Santa Maria the previous three times due to big waves, lightning storms, howling wind, yadda yadda yadda.
So, we got here, and came into the fancy pants resort to see what was about, and caught some of the primaries. They had an “honor bar,” which is fun if you’ve never been to one. It’s where you get your own beer, or whatever, and mark it down on as a hash mark on a sheet of paper while the staff stand around and watch t.v. like twenty feet away. Well, fun anyway except that the beer cooler is not grounded, and has a nice shock in store for you if you touch it. Just push the door with a napkin, and reach in and grab the beer without touching the sides. Kind of like “Operation,” the wacky doctor’s game. Except this is better, because you get to drink beer while you play. Well, I don’t know what your childhood was like. In my family, we didn’t drink beer at that age. I’ll try not to judge you though. And the primaries were on the giant 12 foot t.v. they had in the lobby, and these nice people came in with smoked kingfish and crackers in a huge bowl, that was awesome.
Anyway, they had that there “honor” bar, and it seemed like so much fun going back and getting those drinks, and making your own, and whatnot, that I spose I got a little carried away with myself, and got what you might call “a wee bit tipsy.” The last drink I made was a white Russian, and the German owner of the resort was insisting I put three hash marks on the paper while I grinned and told him “DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT MY FRIEND!” Over and over. Ah, I’m a humble man. Well, now I am, after that anyway. The people who brought the dip disappeared, I think because I ate like three quarters of this massive bowl of kingfish dip in about five minutes, and put a serious dent in their crackers on top of it. And then this guy Patrick walked us out to the dinghy to make sure I got in on the inside of it, and I’m even humbler for that. Oh, and Ruth informed me, while I’m on the subject, that I misjudged my entry into the dinghy, and went, ass over tit, into the drink. That explains why I woke up wearing different clothes. So, that’s one time each now, we’ve fallen off the boat and into the water. Well, we won’t count the times I did before we knew each other.
The next day, if you could believe it, I felt like hell. So I did nothing. No, wait. Scratch that. I cleaned the fridge. That was my day.
Today, though, we got up at the crack of ten with a jaunty spring in our step, and zipped out to the deep water to do some diving. Well, me anyway. Ruth drove. It was great though, because today, we did things a bit differently. She trolled around with me on the back of the dinghy, holding the spear and the dive flag in my scuba gear, and when I saw something cool, I would drop off and she would hang out while I dove about, a-bubblin’. I did shoot a parrotfish, (I think that’s what it was) and got it right through the spine so the struggle was over really fast. This thing was beautiful, we took a bunch of pictures and all that.
Immediately, of course, I went to the surface, and dispatched the fish to the boat, and we went to a new area. The smell of blood must have been on me though, or else we didn’t go far enough, because the next time I dropped off, this really big barracuda started following me, like four feet long. Ugly bastard. He was really close too, like ten feet or something, and really curious, so much so that I hollered for Ruth to pull around, and while she did, I pulled back the sling and got ready to take a crack at him. Not like I’m any match for a fish that goes 70 mph with razor sharp teeth, but holding a spear made me feel a bit better. Those things scare me. I won’t lie. I’m afraid of barracudas. It’s official.
We ate the fish for dinner. it for dinner. Or most of it anyway. I took the head and stuck a big hook in it, and threw it over the side to try to land a grouper or something, but the jerk on the line yanked the spool right out of my hand and I lost it all over the side. Luckily, it floated, so it was easy enough to find once I went in after it. If you don’t know, I’ll tell you something: I’m a silly, silly man.
Tomorrow the plan is to take this 80 lb. line and tie about ten hooks in a series on it, with all kinds of hulas, fish heads, ballyhoos, and maybe some bedknobs and possibly even some broomsticks, and slap that sucker on the downrigger and troll around at the “wall,” where the dropoff goes to 1000 feet. We’ll see what happens. We haven’t really tried too hard at this fishing business, but this seems like the right time to get motivated.
Oh yeah. We got our XM radio working again, since we got an antenna on Long Island. Woohoo!

On another note: it’s funny, there’s a whole bunch of things about my life that are more in focus now more than they were before. Most of them were already there, but this trip, and being so far away and so isolated has underscored them.

I’ve realized work is a different thing than I used to think it was. I used to think you get a job and work, all the time, because that’s just what you do, and that’s it. Until your 65, then you sit. Now, I think it’s something I’ll do enough so I can eat, and only as much as I need to, and enjoy it. And never any longer on some kind of “career path” type work. Nope, nothing I can’t walk away from if it doesn’t suit me. I want to enjoy all the work I do from now on, not endure it, as in the past, where I saw it as “trading hours of my life for dollars.” I’m done doing that. I’ll still work, of course. I just won’t be trying to take over the world like I was a few years ago. Now, I’m going to just do it on my terms, as much is needed, but not more. And more. And more. And more. Just what is needed, and makes sense. Not out of compulsion to fill every hour of the day with it, as before.

I’ve decided I never want to be so far from my family again, not for so long. This was wonderful, this trip. Of course, I’m glad we did it. But I don’t think I ever want to be so far from my parents, my siblings, my in-laws, my friends. And our dogs. I don’t ever want to spend another 6 months without looking at those smiling dog tongues, until the day they’re taken from me by time. And until then, I don’t want to waste the time I have, by not experiencing them every minute I can.

And that goes for the rest of you too.

I don’t ever want to stop coming here, to the Bahamas. I like it too much. It suits me. It’s like New Orleans. When I first got there, it was like being home. It’s the only way to describe it. It will always be a home to me, even though I may never live there again. As will Kalamazoo, as will Shady Rest, as will this boat. I think I’m going to add the Bahamas to the list of places that I call home, wherever this boat is anchored here. Another place that feels like home is at Burt’s house, in Michigan. And Tom and Becky’s house in Kalamazoo. And there are others. Places people have made me so welcome, they have made their home my home, and made me really believe that it was. And so, I guess, even though it’s something I’ve said, and known for a long time, when I tried to talk you into coming to visit us in New Orleans, or up North at Shady Rest, or now, as I’m asking you to come visit the boat if you ever are so inclined, it is because just like I feel like your home is my home, my home is also yours, and I would like you to visit. These places are too good to stay away from, and too good to keep to ourselves.

Ruth is good by the way. She’s healing nicely. I think in a week or maybe a bit more she will have new skin where she was burned, pretty much all over. She’s doing great. I know you guys worry, but try not to. She’s doing well, and right now, sleeping like a lil’ baybay.

Speaking of which: David said today that Michelle is showing now. Is that awesome or what? I said “are you going to stick with the name Suvay?” and he said “well, I haven’t been told otherwise.”

Attaboy!