Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
One day, two exciting things happened to me. The first and lesser exciting thing was the
arrival of Karl, the American single-hander who I met at Bundaberg. I rowed out to visit
him with a cold beer and was disappointed to see he had two other visitors who had them-
selves just arrived by boat. I had met the young lady some years back when I was in Keehi
Lagoon. She was the absolute talk of the town. She was a Scottish dancer, with a bushel
of cotton blossom, blonde hair, large green eyes, a smile that would melt an iceberg, and
brown, muscular dancing legs that surely would rank as a pair of the finest in the world.
I exaggerate not, dear reader. The one overriding fact about this beautiful girl with a soft
Scottish lilt was that she was genuinely nice! She was so down to earth. Never did I see her
assume any airs and graces with the folk that were constantly around her. They were drawn
to her good heart and fairytale looks.
Now, here she and her lucky husband were sitting, chatting to Karl. I was slightly embar-
rassed and, as I am pitifully shy with people, I introduced myself quickly, said hello to Karl
and, leaving him the cold beer, took off back to my boat. Rowing back, I had to face the
opposite way I was traveling, and I was mesmerized by the pretty sight of the diminishing
image of the girl.
A few short hours later, I decided to row ashore at Opua and have a hot shower at the
sailing club. The shower room had about three or four wooden cubicles next door to each
other. They were communal, and one had to be cautious if there were any ladies present. I
deposited my fifty cents into the hot water meter and began my luxuriously hot shower. I
was so engrossed that I did not hear the two people that came into the room taking each a
cubicle next to mine. I became aware of the man's voice as he spoke to the other person. I
wrapped a towel around myself and went out to the benches to dry off and get dressed. The
doors to these cubicles were about chest high, and I was busy dressing when a blonde head
popped over the top and said, “Oh hi, you're Jonathan aren't you? We met today on Karl's
boat!” It was the girl! As she now talked to me, she had her shapely, slim hand on top of the
door, and it suddenly flew open by accident, I believe, revealing this perfect specimen of a
young woman in all her natural, soaking wet glory. What was so classy about her was the
fact that she did not react as most women might have: grabbing at towels, turning around,
hands hiding breasts, etc. She stood there as if nothing had happened and did not flinch
when I stared at her magnificent body. I could not help it any more than the sun could help
rising every morning. I defy the man who would look away at a golden moment such as
this.
Oh, and what a body! I remember how she used to work on her husband or boyfriend's
boat when it was up on the hard in the boatyard. She wore a yellowish green bikini, and she
would be varnishing the boat while he was away at work somewhere. Now there's a keep-
er! The guys in the yard would flock around her to watch; she really was something. Now
