Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Of course, but please excuse the mess.”
She swung lightly below as she grabbed onto the companionway hatch and made an appre-
ciative tour. “Wow, she's lovely, so big down below; that's quite a large berth up forward,
that's gotta be yours. Looks like a double bunk.” I liked the way she called me Jon.
“Yes, it's very comfortable for two; it used to be two v-berths but I changed it to that. It
makes more sense.”
“I love these solid bronze ports and the Oregon pine soles; she's a beaut. I'd love to sail
aboard her some time,” she said, looking about her.
“I'd be honored if you would.” I was smitten by her at this stage and didn't want her to go.
She must have seen the effect she had on me, but she was obviously a kind and well-bred
,young lady. She smiled approvingly at me and prepared to take her leave.
“Come on Zephyr, we mustn't be late; Armchair Steve is waiting for us.” She shipped her
trusty backpack and, with a smile and a wave, rowed off across the evening water.
“Now that's my kind of girl, probably very unavailable, but she has everything I want in a
girl: warmth, integrity, charm, intelligence, looks, love of the sea, love of animals; I could
go on and on!”
“Well save it for later, let's get going to La Mariana's before happy hour's over,” said Gavin
impatiently.
We rowed up to an old, wooden dock on the west side of the Keehi boatyard where several
cruising boats of varying sizes and ages were nudging peacefully at their slack mooring
warps. It was a lovely, calm evening; the blinding heat of the day had been replaced by the
setting sun, and a deliciously cool, northerly trade wind now stole in across the bay from
the open sea.
As we stepped from the dinghy, the happy sounds of a restaurant bar were in full swing.
Glasses tinkled and hard-working people now relaxed and murmured their pleasure over
a drink. Music played across a sound system. Plates clattered in a nearby kitchen from
whence a delicious, fishy aroma wafted.
The restaurant was situated right on the waterfront, and the tables next to the windows af-
forded a wonderful view literally on top of the water. The decor was old marine bric-a-brac,
lovingly collected over the years by the owner, Marianne, who now was in her sixties. (I
happened to find myself back in La Mariana's some twenty years later, where nothing had
changed and the grand old lady still visited with each table to find out if all was as it should
be. She was helped slowly and gracefully about by a younger Hawaiian friend.)
