Your level of achievement will rise to meet the level of your purpose. – Ralph Marston
Monday, June 11, 2012 (DAY 99)
Waking up as the cool breeze blows over me from the window above the foot of my bed, I reach over my shoulder for my iPhone on the shelf next to me, 5:48am. The early morning person that I have become is a far cry from the late-morning sleeper I was hoping to take advantage of while on this great journey, but, while I feel as though I am finding fewer hours of sleep nightly, surprisingly, I feel more rested with a mind at ease, and I continue to embrace a life free of routine. In this freedom, we have chosen to indulge in a half-day fishing trip for only $19 a person for five hours on the Pacific in a private boat. Not a bad way to begin the week. Wondering how many other people would rather be fishing on a Monday afternoon, than settling in to the beginning of another arduous workweek, I am thankful in my decision to leave behind the confined ideals of a monotonous lifestyle of relative security for an adventurous life that continues to change me daily in the experiences and life lessons that are continuously being revealed.
Waking up as the cool breeze blows over me from the window above the foot of my bed, I reach over my shoulder for my iPhone on the shelf next to me, 5:48am. The early morning person that I have become is a far cry from the late-morning sleeper I was hoping to take advantage of while on this great journey, but, while I feel as though I am finding fewer hours of sleep nightly, surprisingly, I feel more rested with a mind at ease, and I continue to embrace a life free of routine. In this freedom, we have chosen to indulge in a half-day fishing trip for only $19 a person for five hours on the Pacific in a private boat. Not a bad way to begin the week. Wondering how many other people would rather be fishing on a Monday afternoon, than settling in to the beginning of another arduous workweek, I am thankful in my decision to leave behind the confined ideals of a monotonous lifestyle of relative security for an adventurous life that continues to change me daily in the experiences and life lessons that are continuously being revealed.
The mornings around our Nicaraguan apartment have already given way to susceptible behavior and I can almost bet with complete certainty the details of comfort that are associated with most of my new housemates. The early riser in our group is without a doubt, John Wayne, who is typically up between 4am and 5am and can be found watching television in the early morning hours. This ridiculous wakeup call can be attributed to John’s schedule back on Utila, since he is accustomed to beginning work at Parrot’s Dive Center often before daybreak. Cameron is usually out of bed the same time I am, before 7am, and despite having an unhealthy addiction to Bieber fever that is evident in the ten different posters he has placed around our room, he tends to be an acceptable roommate since he does not snore in his sleep and has the courtesy to double-down by wearing both rubber pants and sleeping on crinkled plastic sheets to avoid what I call the Jaimie Hildebrand. I heart you, my Canadian friend. I am no different in my morning ritual of indulging a cup of coffee while spending the first few hours’ journaling and reading. The girls, however, are a lazy group of sleeping beauties, and little do they know that the three of us have plotted and schemed in great detail ways to torture them in their slothfulness. Since all of our ideas will, without fail, result in immediate medical attention accompanied with mandatory therapy for posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), we have wisely chosen to avoid instigating a conflict that has the potential of being the inception of the great gender wars of Latin America.
Arriving just before 1pm at the small wooden stand to make the final arrangements and preparations for what will undoubtedly be equivalent to The Deadliest Catch, the eight of us along with our captain and first mate are ready to conquer the sea. Trolling through the harbor and past the other fishing boats, the horseshoe shaped bay of San Juan del Sur becomes a panoramic scene of beauty. Several minutes later, and we have reached the open waters of the Pacific. Patiently waiting with four lines already baited and in the water, we sit back and enjoy periods of brief conversation between moments of silence as we enjoy the splendor of our afternoon on the high seas. The relaxed serene moment is interrupted as two of our lines have snagged two mackerels, and within seconds the boat is alive with the commotion and high energy of our first catch. Not wanting to reveal my novice status for fishing outside of fresh water lakes, John, Lindsay, and Cameron have successfully reeled in their trophies and I am beginning to become eager as I wait for my turn. Sitting towards the back of the boat near the four fishing lines that are strewn over both sides, suddenly there is another storm of activity and the captain points to me to begin reeling in the next victim. After a long and strenuous fight that lasts hours, with what I could only imagine to be a mermaid or a blue whale, I pull in the largest catch of the day with a 50lb small horse eye fish. Upon successfully reeling in, Fred as I’ve nicknamed my fish, I feel that I also need to humiliate him with an onslaught of verbal abuse and a photo session to record my victory and contempt for our soon-to-be dinner.
The rush of adrenaline is too much, and I have to live out the cliché moment of standing on the bow with my arms spread open while claiming to be king of the world. This lasts for the next four hours, but I’m sure everyone onboard is relishing in the moment thoroughly, even in their attempts to wrap me up in a fishing net and hurl me into the sea with concrete blocks strapped to my outstretched arms as I sing at the top of my lungs, “near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart goes on.” In spite of arriving back to shore bound and gagged, I am pretty sure I have found my best friends. Day number 99 of my amazing adventure comes to a close with a spectacular sunset over the Pacific and my thoughts turn to friends back home, wishing they could share in the experiences and images that I have been so very fortunate to now have as memories.
Since we have the magically delicious cooking skills of one, John Wayne Bush, we have taken our prized catches home for the day, and this time we can take more pride in our dinner since we have all contributed in the culmination of such a meal. Carving up the first mackerel with fine precision, leaving nothing to waste, we quickly realize that we will have more fish over the next few days then any of us could probably eat. After repeating the same method with the remaining two mackerels and my small horse eye fish, our freezer is full and tonight’s menu is filets with rice and veggies. I will have to admit that my pallet is not accustomed to sea food, especially fish, but our meal is seasoned and cooked so perfectly that I have put the peanut butter sammiches on hold for the next few days. Life is good.
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