Numero 10- Keep the wind at your back & the sun on your face.

The skies once again painted itself in a shade of grey, like that of the face of a Geisha after she's done painting it. The jungles emerald dress looked even more saturated. Her secrets still secret, the stories she could tell. She looked over the small bay that formed Portebello. Stuck up against a mountain side over looking the Caribbean, Portebello had once been home to the Spanish & more infamously to a host of different privateers. That's what they called themselves anyway. The world simple know's them as pirates. Blackbeard, Morgan & Drake, all made Portebello home at sometime. Legend goes that Drake himself is buried on one of the surrounding islands. His booty also calls Portebello home, if the legend is to be believed.
After a short stop in Panama City, he made his way down to Portebello. He met some treasure hunters. It seems everyone is in search of adventure. And so it was that he arrived in Portebello, the next step to his adventure. Sailing the same seas as Drake had done all those years ago, was an adventure as grand as anything he had done before. The San Blas Islands laid waiting. The 'Desdemona' would give him that adventure. He stayed at the appropriately named 'Captains Jacks' hostel. Among the array of old sea dogs, he met Captain Jeff, skipper to the 'Desdemona'. At only 29, he was young compared to the raggedy old sea captains that sat around 'Jacks'. As the rum flowed, so the stories came streaming out. The nights went deep, with only creatures better left undiscovered singing away in the darkness. After celebrating his football teams wrapping up of the title, he wrapped up his bags & set-off to the dock. He was greated by grey skies yet again. His spirits were high though. He boarded & met the crew. Phil (aka George) & Robbie (aka Cookie Robinson Esquire the 3rd).

                                                          Cpt Jeff, George, Elton John & Cookie

The others on the boat were a young Australian couple & an American brother & sister. There sibling relationship was unlike his ever experienced. Foot massages & sensual back rubs were foreign to him. 'Too each his own' he thought. He eyes were filled with visions of the open seas. He would soon be seeing it up close. As they slowly cruised out of the bay, he fixed his eyes on one place, the horizon. The first night came in quickly. The sea started acting up. Like a petulent kid, she started throwing her toys. Like that kid she would make it her goal to make life unbearable for everyone around. He wasn't going to give into this brat. The others would & one by one went to the side to empty there stomachs. They vanished below soon after, he would only see them in the morning. He would not budge though & stayed top side. The 'Desdemona' bobbed & weaved her way through the punches of salt water like Mayweather. He would have approved. She fought well & at 5am the fight was over.

They reached the first island. The names of the islands are not important. All he know's were that they were SPECTACULAR! The days were spent moving between the islands. Snorkelling with sharks, eating fish caught a few hours earlier, swinging away in hammocks & reading. That became par for the course. The American kid even attempted to crack some coconuts on the nearby island. Accompanied by his sister's cheerleading, 'come on champ, you the man!' All they needed was wine, they were providing the cheese. The coconuts fell to the ground on a regular basis. Like suicide fruit, they plummeted to there demise. The highlight would be having lunch with a local Kuna tribe.

                                                                                Kuna 

                                                                                                                                    
Having a meal in there hut, playing football on the island, playing in the rain with the kids. Know words needed. The islands charm & beauty is easy to fall for. Like the coconuts falling from the trees, you fall for the island without choosing. In the end it was never your choice to make. Soon enough the sails would be lowered & the anchor dropped for the last time. The final day came faster than what he thought. 'Where did those 5 days go?' 'They went so fast.' The best days usually do. The last night was the best one. Sleeping up top, swinging away in a hammock, the gentle splashing against the bow & watching the stars, one by one light up the black canvas of the Caribbean sky. He thought to himself, 'what do I need right know?' 'Absolutely nothing.'

Until that day ...