Reflections

It was not easy to leave this corner of India that had us so eagerly engrossed. Returning from Cinque Island we fought against our visa deadline and tried hastily to squeeze a few more anchorages before returning to Phuket. We wanted to run on more beaches, see locals in sarees dancing on the sand and taste new native flavours. Chidiya-tapu and Port Blair bid us a colorful and warm farewell.

There are a lot of finer moments and small details of our trip to the Andaman Islands that have escaped our writing thus far. We have spoken of the incredibly beautiful, deserted beaches, the locals friendly and exotic and the fish plentiful and multi-colored… Yet as we began to conclude our tour of the islands I couldn’t help but feel that some of the more subtle yet significant discoveries had happened between our couple and within our selves.

As Phil set the sails and adjusted the wind-vane, the sun fell and we prepared for our night shifts. Unlike the first crossing, this time we had the moon to guide us during the early parts of the night. While Phil slept and the engine hummed loudly, I had the crescent moon as my companion and more than once danced on the deck looking at its bright yellow light. I danced, and stretched to stay awake during the hours of my vigil in the vast darkness. I admired the stars until my eyes lost focus and I began to see them move and blend and vibrate in the sky. Perhaps they are not called bewitching hours for nothing for it was during these moments that I found myself most exposed, more susceptible to the fantasies that sprung from the atramental night.

During our crossing Phil and I would at times hardly see each other as the days passed. It was important that whenever someone was awake, the other was resting and regaining the energy necessary to take the next shift. I had more time to give in to my thoughts, no one to edit them for me and was left to indulge myself in my emotions, which fell and rose with the waves. At times I was exhilarated, in a trance with the music I blared from my headphones to help keep me awake. Other moments I was convinced we were on the verge of being in danger, that a strong gust of wind could at any moment catapult us into a disastrous squall… My heart beating loudly and my senses at once heightened from the nerves but dulled from the lack of sleep. I would stare at the soft orange light of our compass for hours on end, my eyes fixed on a range of three degrees until all else disappeared around me. Then dawn would come and with it an immense feeling of relief, followed by the overwhelming bliss of visits from dolphins and pilot whales.

Enjoying the few hours a day that I saw Phil, both of us awake and excited, me in awe of his growing, brilliant abilities as Captain. And sometimes sheer frustration, lack of wind and lack of movement for hours on end… Being pushed in the wrong direction by a current we can’t fight in heat we can’t escape. Night again: my eyes fixed on the sails and the compass when something bright flashes and in fear of it being lightning I look up immediately and instead see a meteor blazing across the stars.

Midnight as we see the first bright lights of fishermen appear on the horizon and we know we are closer to Thailand. Twilight as we approach Phuket and the silhouettes of the wooden boats with sleepy fishermen greet us and lure us closer to shore. Dawn breaks over Promthep Cape and lights up the Big Buddha who gives us the official welcome. Yindī t̂xnrạb

Iva