It is Sunday. This is no ordinary Sunday as Golden Week has set its galleon sails and reached into Okinawa once again. I have taken Monday off, which means I now have Sunday, Monday, Tuesday , Wednesday, Thursday for self indulgence. Yay Japan! I intend to exploit this opportunity to the maximum of sensuality.
What can be more sensual than clambering into the Scaffie with a fresh wind blowing offshore. Guys, you have to remember that Okinawa is a delightfully warm place. The sea is warm, the wind is warm, my heart is warm. This means Tshirt and shorts sailing.
The wind fills the sail and off we go across the turquoise lagoon. Sailing boats need lots of adjustments, whether or not said adjustments make much difference to the performance of the boat is moot. However I am unhappy with the overall way the rigging is like at and so, a couple of kilometers out, I tighten the downhaul.
Never has life been so good – good wind, no work, warmth.
So, every time I mention to an Okinawan that I have a boat they say “Whoa cosmic! You can fish.” Fishing is deep rooted in the Ryukyuan psyche. I feel pressure to fish. I mean I really want to fit in, you know, be one of the lads. So, out past the reef I cast my sea anchor, as what I bought in the best shop in the world in California, over the side and start off on a slow drift.
I hate fishing. It is the antithesis of sailing. All the fiddling about, my eyes are weak I cannot see the knots, all the tangles, all the boredom, all the sitting around on the sea rather than the swoop and glide. Hey, I actually do not want to kill any pretty fish. I mean I can pay someone to do that and buy amazing fish at the store.
Who am I trying to fool? After 15 minutes or so of role play, I reel in and I pull in the very effective drogue.
The whole time I was fishing, I was smelling the breeze and thinking what fun it would be to career around the lagoon, to shoot over the reef, to finagle the rig to get maximum performance.