Part I: One Thousand Clicks Straight South
Being the first of a three part series in which the author accompanies the intrepid Juan Daggers, an Englishman adept at backgammon, on a protracted southerly journey.
Just back to TKY after 25 hours on a boat and a week on an island that lies some 1000km south of the mainland. On the way down a medical emergency turned 25 hours into 43, and we ended up tracing 13 small node-like islands quite closely, first backtracking to meet a chopper, then again as we took an altered course to make the best time.
Wading into Tokyo bay at the outset, the sun toasted us and we were captivated by Haneda fly-by landings as the city receded and gave way to an unfurled natural expanse. Once in the open ocean, the chop made itself felt. Those with kids mostly went below deck to large communal quarters that immediately began to smell like feet. The rest lurched their way around, looking for good spots to weather the many undulating hours to come.
Never having been on an open-ocean voyage, I worried a little about my constitution, but rather enjoyed the loll and saw of the boat, and found it conducive to sleep. A man on a cd I have informs me that sleep is the cousin of death, and I have never been certain what he meant by that.
Daggers, by whose introduction I was able to embark on this adventure, had undertaken this very journey once before. True to form, he came equipped with a backgammon board that served as a delightful tool with which to chip away at the hours. I have something of an aversion to most boardgames and all card games save Uno; owing perhaps to my being a temporary charge of the sea, this gentleman’s game won me over. I was able to take only 2 games, and give him a run for his money once or twice, but by and large Juan’s genetic predisposition for throwing double bloody 5′s got the best of me. We played until it was time to sleep.
With dawn came the ill-timed announcement that a passenger had taken seriously sick. The boat had doubled back all night to find calmer waters in order for a helicopter to air-lift the poor man away. We never heard what became of him, but I’m pretty sure that I could have digested the news just as well, if not better, at 8 or perhaps 9:45AM rather than 5. The details were drowned out by the formal language of the announcement, but what information I could glean, coupled with the groans and mutterings of my fellow passengers, sketched things in well enough.
After breakfast Juan and I found that we were resigned to the fact that 15 or so hours had just been tagged onto the trip. This was because, at the heart of the thing, riding a boat is a hell of a lot of fun. We spent the day spotting large waves, conducting stately games of backgammon on the lawn furniture affixed to the deck, and making the most of the free meals doled out by a dour maitre d’ who looked as though he might have raised Bruce Wayne.
We woke up on the second morning at dawn, having just arrived at the destination, a small set of islands that recently received UNESCO World Heritage status. We couldn’t but notice the quality of the dawn light as we disembarked, like looking at the world through a shaving of amber.
continued in Part II
That Juan Daggers fella sounds like a right tool
the rustiest tool in the bag
doode is a card, to boot