Warderick Wells is the headquarters for the Exuma Cays land and sea park and is a spectacularly magical place.  The park location was chosen for its rocky bluffs, sand dunes, salt flats, mangrove creeks and beautiful reefs.  We were blessed to score a mooring in the coveted north channel right next to a well known snorkeling site.  As we pulled in we saw our buddies on Cerulean were moored there as well.  We settled in, put the engine on Tip Sea and headed to land.  You are greeted on the beach by the reconstructed  skeletal remains of a 1953 Sperm whale who died from eating a plastic bag.  Our friends from Joy rebuilt it after a hurricane knocked it down several years ago.  The small park office is just off the beach and as are trailheads to over seven miles of hiking.

We headed to the most famous of these trails, Boo Boo Hill.  There is legend attached to Boo Boo Hill.  The hill is famously haunted by missionaries who went aground on a reef and parished just below Boo Boo Hill.   You can hear their singing on the nights of full moons.  I think these parished missionaries are what makes this place so magical.  It is a tradition for cruisers to appease King Neptune and the sea gods with an offering of driftwood with your boat’s name on it at the top off Boo Boo Hill.  We didn’t bring any driftwood and you are not supposed to remove anything from the park so we put Echoes’ name on a shell from my shell collection and left it with the driftwood pile.  I figured this was appropriate because you can hear the echoes of the sea and its ghosts if you put a seashell to your ear.

We continued hiking through beautiful, rough terrain.  The earth beneath our feet felt wonderful and the sights were soul quenching.  We hiked for hours.

When we came off the trails there was a large sundowner happening on the beach.  All the cruisers grabbed their cocktails and snacks and dinghied to the beach to mingle and sip.  There we found our good friends Christopher and Robin from Cerulean.  They introduced us to people in which we had something in common.  There were maybe twenty boats moored at the north end of Warderick Wells.  Unbelievably, three of the boats there were from our home town of Stillwater, Minnesota, population of less than twenty thousand.

We made plans to have our friends from Cerulean over for a sundowner the following evening.  The next day we hiked on snaking trails beneath the palms and across craggy, sandy cliffs.

Warderick Wells is a mystical place of no such thing as coincidences.  Christopher and Robin came to our boat for a sundowner.  We had been on their boat before but this was their first time on Echoes.  When Christopher stepped aboard he said, Oh, is this a Catalina MKII 42?  I’ve been on one of these before.  Remember Selah, Robin?  Captain Areyoukiddingme? said, This is Selah!  We bought the boat from someone who only owned the boat a little over a year.  That guy bought the boat from the people of Selah.  They were sailing instructors.  Christopher and Robin did their ASA sailing training living aboard our boat for a week.  They have been good friends with the instructors ever since.  Have you seen the movie, The Red Violin?  It is one of my favorites.  It is the story of a magnificent, soul filled violin and the lives it touched all along its way.  I brought up the movie about a week before and said to John, I’d like to know about Echoes’ story and her people.  It turns out there is quite the story about Selah and her owners, Bob and Ana.  In fact, Ana wrote a book about it.  You can buy the book on Amazon.  Bet you know what I’m reading just as soon as I have enough wifi to download it.

These adventurous sailing instructors had to sell Selah because tragically, Bob was hit by a car and hung on to life by a chafed sheet for quite a while.  I’m pleased to say he is doing much better now.  I was sad to hear the circumstances of selling Selah but am happy to be connected in this unusual way.  Christopher sent their friends an email with our picture and said, The new name is Echoes, which seems very appropriate given the circumstances of our meeting.

The next day Cerulean went on her way south and Soul Divers came in to take Cerulean’s exact mooring.  We had sundowners (well, the sun does set every day!) with Soul Divers and made plans to go snorkeling the following day.

The Eagle Ray gets its name from its beak like snout

Matt and Sadie are both scuba instructors.  It was a blast to snorkel with them as they have a sixth sense to the whereabouts of all living sea creatures within possible eyesight and even those that are not.  We popped in the cold water on a cold day directly off of Echoes.  Within ten minutes we saw eagle rays, sea turtles, a large variety of fish and colorful coral reefs.  Have I mentioned Warderick Wells is a magical place?  We watched four Spotted Eagle Rays swim in circles around our neighbor’s boat.  It was like watching an underwater ballet in graceful timelessness.  But the highlight of the day was Grandpa the Spiny lobster.  Matt noticed a tentacle waving out of a cavern in a reef.  He freedove down and rooted its occupant out of its hiding place.  Out came Grandpa.  I screamed in excitement through my snorkel.  I had absolutely no idea lobsters could get this big.  Everything appears twenty five percent larger under the natural magnification of water.  Grandpa looked like the size of a well fed labrador but Matt guessed him to be a little over three feet in core body and around twenty five pounds. 

I will never forget the enchantment Warderick Wells land and sea park.

We left Norman in unsettled seas to go about eleven miles south to Shroud Cay.  We crossed into the Exuma land and sea park boundaries and entered area that you are not allowed to fish or remove anything at all from the land or sea.  You can be fined $500.00 per person on board, have your boat confiscated and given forty eight hours to leave the Bahamas if you fish or poach in these protected marine breeding grounds.  There is no cell or data service.  It is the divine fish tank that you imagine God gazing upon after a hard day.  We picked up a park mooring ball and went gunkholing in the mangroves and beach combing nearby.

The land protected mangroves were peaceful, still and teaming with restorative energy.  We stopped the engine and floated in serene silence after a rough four days of howl and bounce.  Turtles paddled by and waved at us with their fins.

Tropical Acrobats, a sleek white bird with eighteen inch long tail feathers, dove through the sky like, well, acrobats.  We were instantly rejuvenated.

I did not take this picture.  Photo credit Dr. Googlesearch

We met up with some friends on Soul Divers who we have been talking about this trip with for years.

This is our new friend Curly, not one of our friends from Soul Divers

Soul Divers’ Matt was our listing broker when we bought Echoes.  Three years ago on our very first night picking up Echoes to move her to Marco Island, Sea Alice’s dinghy engine quit working at 1:30 am leaving us adrift.  We had to call Sea Tow to come get us and bring us back to the boat.  Matt drove us all over Coconut Grove for the next few days to get engine parts and help us sort out our problem.  (He did  not sell us the dinghy.)

We met his wife, Sadie, and an instant friendship was solidified over a crazy dinner where they were filming a latino soap opera at the restaurant and couldn’t have staff running around during filming.  It took an hour for our first drink and three to get our dinner.  Matt got the whole meal comped for us.

We have kept up with each other through the yrears and planned to meet in the Exumas.  They had planned to cruise months before us but Irma beat up their beloved boat and permanent home something terrible.

They finally set sail with their second mate, (their cat) Toby, after over four months of boat repairs, insurance wrestling and living with a kind friend.  We met again after three years in the middle of a mangrove on Shroud Cay.  It is a crazy, small and wonderful world we live in.

Captain Hasanewnickname can’t believe I have not told you the story of how he go it, so here we go.  We chatted with a couple at a marina, bid them farewell and went our separate ways.  The gentlemen stopped me as I returned to our boat.  He asked me, Why is your husband called the potato man?  Excuse me?, I said, Come again?  He explained, When your husband said goodbye earlier the last thing he said was, I’m the potato man.  I’m the gin man would have made sense, but potato?  I stood on the dock locked up and blinking like a dolt.  So he went on, It is so unusual because I met a sailing potato farmer from Idaho just the other day and it’s weird that I met another potato man.  I was still blinking and wracking my brain when it finally hit me.  John has a heavy northern, Minnesotan/Canadian sounding, accent and this guy had a strong southern accent.  The last thing John said to him was, I’m going to go pay the man.  And that is how Captain Potatoman got his new nickname.

The Exumas are an archipelago of three hundred and sixty five islands and cays.  It is a popular cruising ground because of its famous, many hued, turquoise waters, a humongous land and sea park packed with marine life, anchorages to get lost from civilization on and several islands on which to fuel and provision that are packed with fellow cruisers whooping it up.  Reaching and exploring the Exumas is cashing in our golden ticket.  We crossed the Exuma Sound on a calm and bright day with the seas a color of a mermaid’s tail.

Our friends from Joy suggested we wait out the weather in Norman Cay as it has protection from many angles and the winds were changing and changing again.  They said the anchorage could hold probably seven boats, maybe more.  We were the eighth to show up.   Captain Eyeballsfallingout almost crashed into a boat as he first went past someone undeniably feminine who must have put her bikini in the hot water cycle and then on the next boat, his dream come true, a golden goddess from his boyhood fantasies laying on her foredeck in nothing at all.  It was a slowww trip to find our spot.  We set B.P. and settled in between the two.  I think I’m going to like the Exumas, said Captain Wherearethebinoculars.

The currents had a strong and forceful personality, but the winds were still tame and the weather warm.  We waited on Echoes to see how she sat and until the ladies went below deck and then we went gunkholing to see the beautiful waters and beaches.

There was a plane wreck visible in the shallows.  Apparently enterprising individuals purposefully crashed a plane filled with drugs into the shallows.  Waiting boats quickly came in to unload the drugs and rescue the pilot who parachuted into a large pile of money.

The moonrise that evening far out did the sunset.  It was a marvelous night for a moondance.

During the night the winds began to howl and the waves began rocking.  Echoes swung in patterns I had yet to experience.  The next morning we were awakened by a, Hello?  We had one hundred feet of anchor chain out and when we went to bed we were facing the opposite direction almost two hundred feet away.  We had spun very close to shrunken bikini boat and, for reasons due to a schizophrenic current and angry wind, we hadn’t spun in the same way.  I love the politeness of what bikini’s man said to Captain AndIhaven’tevenhadmycoffeeyet, Are you comfortable with how close we are?  If he only knew.  The boats shortly found a similar drag angle but we re anchored in a location where we had plenty of swing room but not quite the view.  There we bounced for three days listening to the cold north wind blow and feeling the boat swing with the current and rock in the white caps.

We got off the Echoes one time in three days when we bucked our sloppy, wet way in Tip Sea to shore where McDuff’s came and picked us up in a Jeep and brought us to their restaurant.  It took mere minutes before the bartender started referring to me as Your Highness because I felt like the princess I am with a chilled Sauvignon Blanc and cloth napkins sitting on a stable chair.  Lunch was superb.  They closed for a break before the dinner set otherwise I would have never left.

Back at the boat we rocked and swung some more.  I must compliment the lovely B.P. for holding on as well as she did.  The last night I counted seventeen boats packed in the anchorage to tuck in and away from the crashing seas.  Very few sailors ventured off their boats into the white caps with their dinghies during these cold, unsettled days.  There were no naked beauties on fore decks.  We read, napped, fixed things and caught up on blogs.

Captain Allergictosilence cannot be quiet for more than five minutes at a time.  Perhaps there was brain damage from an accident he had as a child after a bad bike landing while playing Evel Knievel.  I’m writing now, I announce.  But he cannot, even if his life depended on it, keep his thoughts to himself.  He is not looking for comment or conversation as 97% of the time I completely ignore him.  I may on occasion look up with a complete neutral expression and then look back down to what I am doing.  For instance, …I did some calculations and a new jib sheet will be a thirtieth fractional quotient of our retirement savings so if I project my numbers on today’s donut market average and multiply it by the planet Pluto which actually is not a planet we can make up for the purchase in two and eight sixths of a year with interest.  I make brief eye contact and go back to writing.  Sometimes I play a game just so I don’t burst out in foul language at the constant interruption.  The game is, how long until the next random comment?  Two minutes later …The pork we had last night was a little disappointing.  I think I over grilled it.  I do not even look in his direction at this.   Four minutes, oooh, a new record for the day…I am going to fix the broken strap on my fin with a homemade bungee cord.  Excellent, I think.  That will probably gain me five minutes of silence.  …Man, I’ve got to pee.  Nope, I was wrong.  Two minutes later….Ah, much better!  I now know why novelists go to out of the way and deserted locations all alone to write.

We provisioned to the max in Rock Sound and headed to Cape Eluethera Marina for diesel and water before crossing over to the Exumas.  The marina was beautiful and Captain ByGeorgeIthinkhe’sgotit scooted into the fuel dock and backed into the marina slip like he’s been doing it all his life.  We spent two nights there.  The first night our friends from Windsent and Everafter were our neighbors and Joy took a spot next to us after they left.

We had unpleasant jobs to do.  Captain Betterhimthanme converted our front head to a sea water flush rather than continuing to use our precious fresh water, which I am told far too often that I flush far too often.  We argue about head use above all things.  I had the pleasure of discovering the recently bought chicken thighs leaked blood and eeeww all down the densely packed food and all over the fridge and its innards.  I got to take apart the fridge, including the insulation, to clean it out and defrost it.  I cleaned the boat, did laundry and since we had wifi, we did bills and taxes and annoying practical things that take ten times, no, twenty times longer than they do at home.  I read an email; I hope you are relaxed and pampered on your vacation.   They don’t read the blog.  I relayed the message to my cabana boy with doo doo on his hands.

We were walking down the dock when I noticed a man approaching us with a Leo’s t-shirt that could only be from our hometown of Stillwater, Minnesota.  In fact, his son is the town mayor and his wife is a well known local real estate agent.  It is a small world.

I noticed a group gathered at the end of the dock and a lot of activity in the water.  It is not unusual for fisherman to clean their catch and toss the guts to the waiting fish.  I wandered down to have a look.  In fact, they were young marine biologists trying to catch and tag bull sharks.  The nurse sharks were getting in the way so they were trying to separate the sharks by way of fish scraps.  The idea was to hook a bull shark with a huge piece of fish attached to a huge hook and a long line with a buoy on the end.  The shark takes off once hooked and a chase boat follows it by way of the buoy and then they tag it on the side of the boat once it has worn itself out.

They didn’t catch a bull shark but it was sure fun to watch them try.  I learned that nurse sharks and bull sharks look a lot alike.  The way to tell the difference is that nurse sharks have two dorsal fins and bull sharks have a V at the end of their tails.

We had a sundowner on the beautiful boat Joy with her people, Diana and John.  We gained lots of information about our next destination as we were leaving the following day for the Exumas.  There was a big Northerly blow coming that was to last three or four days.  They helped us choose a place in the Exumas to wait out the wind.

We moved further south along Eluethera and sailed as pretty as a digitally enhanced picture to Rock Sound harbor.  We left Governor’s Harbour at the same time as our friends on Joy and Cerulean.  All three boats are Catalinas, theirs being our bright, modern, big sister, dream boats.  All of us had full sails out.  They gained a lead on us and faded gently into the horizon.  We threw out a line.  Captain Slipperylure caught a Mackerel but lost him as he tried to land him in the boat.  Remember our dear friend Dick who sailed around the world for ten years and is working towards beating a world record in swimming when he turns ninety?  He follows our blog and sends us emails with extremely helpful information.  He told us the best way to land fish while sailing is, first of all, use a thick leader and then let the fish wear itself out for five or more minutes before trying to get him in the boat.  Then, get this, poor some cheap booze on his head or in his gills as you bring him into the boat.  This knocks him out, kills him and then he doesn’t flop blood, guts, sharp teeth and scales all over you, your cockpit and your bimini cover.  Genius!  Captain Growingimpatient said, Surely it is time for another fish to bite.  Not a minute later he had a strike and using Dick’s advice landed a second and larger Mackerel, Big Mac.  He threw him in our sink until we reached Rock Sound Harbour.

We were using a technique called visual navigation as we headed through some shallow and reefy water into the harbor.   A person stands on the bow and directs the helmsman away from possibly grounding sandy shoals or hull damaging reefs.  I was helming and Captain Sharpeye was on the bow.  We have a vocabulary of hand signals we use while anchoring or navigating as we cannot hear each other and it is not prudent to be running back and forth to talk.  The one up forward simply points in the direction they want the helmsman to steer and then they give a sign that it is clear and ok to go back on course.  We cleared several hazards with no problem.  Then Captain Brilliant spots something and shoots his hand pointing sharply to port.  I turn the boat as quickly as possible and he keeps pointing and pointing.  I turned over ninety degrees as did my insides.  He continued to point as he moved back to communicate with me.  Did you see that butterfly way out here?! he asked.  I replied with something along the lines of, What in darnation, you silly billy!  as I spun us back on course.  I didn’t even get to see the butterfly.  He laughed out an apology.  What a role reversal!  Maybe we are rubbing off on each other.  Captain Goeschasingbutterflies will soon be naming his favorite underwear, Comfy Ken, Athletic Al…it’s your day Fun Frank!  And I will start fixing unbroken things and doing math equations for the simple elegance of it.  …Naw.

As we have been leap frogging our way down the Eleuthera coast we have ran into the same boats and their people.  Everyone is moving with the weather and looking for similar anchorages that are suitable for the conditions.  Sometimes you get familiar with a boat by way of VHF as you ask each other for information or you just happen to be anchored near them or run into them here and there.  Familiarity starts to build and next thing you know you are having sundowners (sunset cocktail hour) with them on the boats.  It is really fun and let me tell you, sailors are awesome human beings.  Rock Sound was a celebration of many of these new favorite people.

We walked to a strange large source of water in the center of town called the ocean hole.  No one knows what or where the source is that leads the ocean to this hole in the middle of the land.  Many locals jump off the cliffs here and feed the large quantity of fish.  Some will not go in the water because they do not know where the water comes from and are afraid of dark, mythical creatures lurking at the bottom or of being sucked through its mystery never to return.

It was here that we met Lawrence and Sue from England.  It was Sue’s birthday and a perfect excuse to stop at a pub for a beer.  You are used to my wandering stories by now so let me switch gears on you.  Our boat, Echoes, was named after a Pink Floyd song that we listened to as a family whenever we sailed….laying on the deck, looking up at the stars.  It is a long song about the ocean, whales and about being a decent human.  It is an obscure song off of a somewhat obscure album.  Captain Itsonlyfunnytohim always says when asked our boat name, Echoes, like the Pink Floyd song.  To John’s great pleasure, it bugs me.  I say, John, that nice Bahamian woman over half your age has no idea who Pink Floyd is and the chance of her knowing the song Echoes is one in ten billion.  Pink Floyd fans don’t know that song.  Just say Echoes!   So, of course, he says it every single time and smirks at me sideways while he says it.  Okay, we’re back in the pub now.  So Birthday Sue said, What is the name of your boat?  And Captain Nevertiresofteasing said, Echoes, like the Pink Floyd song.  And Lawrence said,  Right, the last song on the album Meddle.  Wow!  This was a first.  After we sung the lengthy praises of Pink Floyd they, not me, they brought up Neil Young.  Say.  No.  More.  We had dinner plans with our Catalina friends on Joy and Cerulean.  Our new friends from Pentesilea joined us, too.

Dinner was a fun and delicious.  Captain Inhiscups repeated practically word for word, with the help of Christopher from Cerulean, all of the lines from Monty Python’s Holy Grail and then The Life of Brian.  Cerulean’s Robin pre ordered us an apple pie and it tasted like childhood.  I didn’t realize until the next day I wasn’t charged for it.  Generosity is rampant.  Robin has written a cruising guide on the Bahamas which she gives away for free.  I pour over it every time we head to a new destination.  I picked her brain on the Exumas and other sailorly mysteries.  Joy’s Diana and John gladly accepted a dinghy ride from the others rather than returning to Joy in Tip Sea with tipsy.

My faith in humanity has been restored by the magnificent people of Eleuthera.  It is the friendliest and most genuine place I have ever been.  It has been said that the people of my home state of Minnesota are “Minnesota nice” but whoever said that has not traveled its freeways or dealt with a Minnesotan in any capacity in which they can remain anonymous.  They can be kraken in dolphin clothing.  The people of Eleuthera ooze dolphinness.  People on the street wish you a glorious day and often stop to chat.  Locals and tourists hitchhike everywhere and the locals are happy to stop and pick you up and want nothing but a thank you for their kindness.  They told us, Don’t worry, there are no weirdos here.  You can hitch a ride anywhere.

We ran into some new friends at the anchorage who told us about the Friday night fish fry in town that evening.  The profits are donated to the local school, to elderly in need, or towards an ambulance ride fund.  Every Friday locals and cruisers attend this festive and social fish fry complete with their famous Rumbumbas.  There was great food cooked in big vats and large grills.  Music was blaring in the street with an MC directing a limbo contest with flexible, swaying people of all ages and nationalities waiting in a line over a half a block long for their next backbend.  We made some new friends and chatted with the locals. It was a memorable night.

The following day we had a yummy lunch at Buccaneer’s.  I had homemade tuna salad made from locally caught tuna surrounded by bright red tomato slices sitting on top of crisp greens.  Captain Ineedaburgerwiththisbeer had an enormous bacon cheeseburger.

Our friend’s from the sailboat Joy told us about a large botanical preserve a couple of miles away.  We asked our waiter about it and if it was in walking distance.  No mun, he said, you will be walking for miles in the park.  He then went up to previous customers and asked them to give us a lift to the park.  Absolutely!  Hop in!  and so we did.

The Levy Preserve is twenty five acres of beautiful Bahamian wilderness with narrow canopied paths weaving through it.  There are well maintained and labeled botanical gardens of native plants organized by medicinal purposes, industrial purposes, poisonous, etc.  There was a lookout tower to climb with a three hundred and sixty degree view of tree tops and aqua water.  There was an old cistern that they converted into a freshwater pond complete with turtles who begged for bread scraps.  We walked for miles and miles.  It was soul reaching and I grew new roots into the celebrated land.

Behold, I am the anchor lion trainer!  I still have a healthy fear of B.P.,  which is prudent for all anchor lion tamers to have,  but I can yank her back into submission by my mighty arm.  I shall now call her Bitch Pussycat!  We have heard plenty of stories from fellow sailors of lifting electric cables, rocks and a myriad of odd things as they retrieve their anchors so I keep a careful eye on B.P. as she and her chain come up.  I noticed something dark and unusual on the chain as I retrieved B.P. to move on from Governor’s Harbour.  Slowly, as it came into focus, it became clear it was a navy shirt wrapped around the chain.  I unwrapped the shirt to find it was a new, long sleeve rash guard with the map of Eleuthera on it.  It is just my size.  B.P.cat, now properly brought into submission, has given me a gift from the sea.

The winds were to blow a stink for several days, the highest we have encountered.  Fortunately, we were in the lee of Eleuthera, in the protection of the land, but we needed to find an extra safe anchorage and hunker down for a while.  We picked our destination some fifteen miles away and took off hoping to sail instead of motor.  The wind on our nose and bucking seas just belly laughed at us.  In fact, it was so raucous that we shortened our destination two times, or at least tried to.  It reminds me of my favorite quote from a book I am reading aloud to Captain Bedtimestorytime.  “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

We decided to tuck into the safe harbor of Hatchet Bay but the entrance to the bay was a narrow and rocky seventy feet.   There was a freighter anchored out in front of it waiting for calmer seas.  The cruising guide strongly suggests you do not enter this cut in unsettled seas.  These seas weren’t just unsettled, they were downright disturbed.  But Captain Ilaughinthefaceofdangerhahaha said, Ah, we can make that.  So we circled it once to check it out.  A large kraken popped up and grinned at me.  We tried our first attempt.  Echoes spun on bouncing seas and couldn’t get her footing.  We circled again.  The kraken laughed and pointed his tentacled arms to the crashing waves, the jagged coral walls in the cut and the shoals you needed to avoid on the other side.  We made a second attempt.  The closer we got the less control we had.  The kraken licked his lips and made multiple fist pumps.  We abandoned that attempt and circled again.  We tried a third time from another angle.  Echoes’ stern skidded starboard with the cursing current.  The kraken howled with laughter.  I heard his belly rumble and saw the blood shot veins in his eyes.  We abandoned that attempt a lot later than I would have liked.  Captain Holyshit circled and asked me my take.  Get me the hell out of here, I replied ashen.  After a tiring day, we ended up in a safe and beautiful anchorage called Alabaster Bay.

We spent three nights in Alabaster Bay letting the winds and waves tire themselves out.  There were miles of desolate beach to get lost on.  My feet touched land after a long four days on the water and I walked until I had blisters.  I had not been feeling well as there was a fencing tournament going on in my gut.  I’m not sure if all the excitement had caught up to me, if it was dysentery or if I accidently swallowed a tiny kraken who was trying to punch his way out.  I longed for the toilets on Chub Cay and my big, stable bed at home.  But it was good to be in one place for a while and rest.

US Navy Experimental Facility    Someone shoot that thing!

We took a walk to the Atlantic side of the island where there were the ruins of an abandoned naval base used in the cold war.  It was a bazaar site to take in.  We got semi lost exploring the labyrinth of roads and dilapidated buildings.

The base was built in 1950 as a Sound Surveillance System

We snorkeled, swam, fished and slept.  Captian Catchingonandcatchingfish caught a Nassau grouper for a nice reprieve from yicky icky processed meat and canned veggies (which we will do without and never buy again.)  The grouper puked out newly eaten crab and Captain Recycle used them as bait.

After dinner we typically sit in the cockpit, listen to music and watch the stars.  One particular Alabaster night Captain Ginhead was in rare form.  He was playing Bob Marley’s “Jammin” but instead of singing “We’re Jammin” he sang instead, “I’m German,” complete with a German accent.  Captain Lederhosen is indeed very German as his mother’s maiden name is Neustedter and our last name is Braatz.  He was dancing around like you might picture an SS officer trying to imitate a Rastafarian.  He swung his bald head as if he had dreadlocks and moved his arms like he was a robot.  “I’m German.  I’m German.”  He staccato squatted up to me and bent down real close.  “And I hope you like Germans’, too,” he sang with the same mischievous smile that sunk me almost thirty three years ago.