Crocodiles

Departure from a known world brings surprise. It can mean danger.

Sometimes, a known world of our own construction is the threat, when what we take for truth turns out to be wrong.

This morning, we were anchored peaceably in San Telmo Bay on Isla del Rey, Island of the King. Our books, our electronic allies, showed no reefs or obstacles. We were in the clear.

Uncharted

As the tide dropped, books and charts were proved wrong. Flat water next to us revealed uncharted reef.

Close. Right next door.

I’m furious. I don’t like surprises. I hate being at the mercy of somebody else’s knowledge.

In this case, ancient and more recent Europeans. Those responsible for leaving accurate records–who measured distance, charted depth, described the dangers–weren’t their observations meant to help? Their rendering of unknown worlds was supposed to make us safer, not give false confidence.

Before we could find ourselves trapped between rock and hard place, SV Hanalei fled.

“I’m phobic about crocodiles and their extended families. As long as we’re discussing my neuroses, I’m scared of snakes, too.”

Rio Cacique

The Chief Engineer and I decamped to safety, a wide bay a few miles north at the mouth of Rio Cacique. A sandbar seals the river off at low tide, which is now. It’s hard to tell exactly where it connects. Appearances can–will–deceive us in a new environment. We go for a long walk on the beach, examine shells.

Cacique means traditional ruler. Five hundred years ago, this island was the realm of King Toe. His people were reknowned, highly-skilled pearl divers.

The rocks and reefs along the shore contain the evidence. They’re studded underneath with oysters–hundreds of them–pried open to reveal the nacre lining that brings wealth. Unimaginable wealth; enough to justify another massacre.

As the tide rises, I think I see the river’s mouth. The way looks cleaner, but it’s near high tide before we venture close.

What looked like the mouth is more a neck scarf. A sandbar, twice the river’s width, swerves west. It nearly hides the true mouth.

The dinghy zooms around the bar into a narrow channel, swaps the known world–seashore–for a jungle cruise.

Because It’s There

Right away, we’re pushed by an urgent flood tide, along with leaves and ocean foam. Riding a up a brackish jungle river seems a good time to ask the question:

Why am I doing this?

You know the answer.

Because it’s there.

Because anything can happen, and I’m curious.

There will be birds–exotic birds–and butterflies.

There may be crocodiles.

Why not? If they are in the Amazon and great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo, why not here?

Let me say this up front: I’m phobic about crocodiles and their extended families. As long as we’re discussing my neuroses, I’m scared of snakes, too.

King Toe’s Pearls

The current carries us upstream, rendering navigation moot. This river is taking us on a jungle cruise, not vice-versa.

Invaders–Europeans again, people like me– rode this current looking for King Toe. They took their world-view along. They found his trove of pearls, found him guilty of not-being-European, seized the pearls, and claimed them for another king.

If they’d found only crocodiles King Toe might have lived in peace.

It shouldn’t surprise you I’m on high alert.

My eyes are fixed on mangrove roots, near certain I make out a caiman.

Amazon

Lately, Facebook has been taunting me with daily photos. One year ago we were locked down in the Amazon. A caiman’s barely-out-of-water, bulbous eyes are watching me. The photos prove they’re real. Next comes the anaconda’s heavy-lidded gaze.

The photos validate my risk-taking.

See? I’m alive. That wasn’t so bad.

Wait, are there anacondas here, too?

The Chief Engineer inquires whether I really need to hold the oar like it’s a weapon.

Anything Can Happen

Fear cocked and ready, I examine nubs on floating logs, waiting for–willing–crocodiles to appear.

Why am I morbidly attracted to the things I fear?

It only makes things worse, this fear-indulgence. Recurring dread becomes the go-to synapse, amygdalic overstep, the crocodile in every room.

Why can’t anxiety be practical, deliver us from social gaffes or hurt feelings? Why doesn’t driving on a highway–where odds are higher I’d be killed–evoke a more appropriate response?

A pair of noisy, squawking parrots startles me. I crane my neck and aim my camera.

Just as quickly, I revert to studying river banks.

Again, why am I doing this?

Departure from a known world brings surprise. Anything can happen.

My mind craves certainty and safety, but my heart demands adventure.

Branches

My thoughts swirl in patterns complex as Pacific currents, their streams like feeder branches to the Amazon. We’re going to cross another ocean soon, eight thousand miles of unknown. Fear will be my silent partner.

The excellent Chief Engineer will stop my busy mind from going overboard. He’ll keep me on an even keel.

He has opinions about branches, branches of decision trees. “Dwelling on one branch does not increase its probability.”

Bad news for those of us who lean toward visualization, prayer, or wishful thinking. It doesn’t do a thing about the fear.

All Captains Have Doubts

Though I don’t see the crocodiles today, they’re still there, in the river and my mind.

Before I captained SV Delos from New Zealand home to Washington, the mere idea of doing so scared me sick. Karen Prioleau, a more experienced captain, set me straight.

“All captains have doubts,” she told me matter-of-factly. Her attitude reframed the insurmountable as everyday, part of a job description.

Of course you’re afraid. Live with it. Don’t let it stop you.

I can’t confront my fear or battle it with logic. It won’t be overcome. I carry it gently with me across the ocean, the way the river carries me upstream.

Courage

To leave the known world, embrace change, accept a world view I did not bring with me? That takes courage. That’s why I’m doing this.

Go ahead. Take your fear along on passage. Face the unknown together.

Afterward, we’ll look each other in the eye.

That wasn’t so bad.

Fair winds,

Christine

Do Tell!

What happens when you do what you fear?