Be careful what you wish for ...
16 August 2011 | 25 50.52S 169 20.12E
Katie
Yesterday morning as I climbed up the companionway stairs, an awful stench smacked me in the nose. " What IS that? Where is it coming from?" I asked Jim. " Huh?" He didn't smell a thing. Big help. And because he didn't smell anything, he wasn't interested in finding the source. It was a beautiful sunny day, no wind, and no bodies spewed from a ferry or cruise ship to clutter the beach. He was keen to get over to Baie de Kunamera and take more pictures of fish. So off we went.
We returned just in time to rinse our gear and ourselves before a dinner date with new friends on their cat across the anchorage. In and out of the cockpit again. Still the foul scent. No time to do anything about it.
We talked about many things beginning with Gail's amazing talent. She played the harp and sang such beautiful songs in their large cockpit that were completely awestruck. Later the conversation wandered down several paths, one of which was pets. She and Dave brought their sheltie along when they moved on board. The lovable dog sailed with them the rest of its life. Somewhere in their travels a trio of geckos moved on board and became pets as well. I left their boat with a full belly from a delicious meal, a happy well-being from the marvelous entertainment and jovial company, and a little heavy in the heart missing past pets and wishing for another.
This morning we awoke early and crawled out into the breaking day. There it was, the smell. No time to search for it now, we were off to the market in Vao. It would be my afternoon project. Imagine wandering through the back room of a seal or penguin exhibit of an aquarium. You know that smell? Rancid pooped fish? Surprisingly similar to this smell. It seemed to be coming from the cockpit sole, under the grid that lets dropped food and other trapped things turn yucky beneath a nice lattice of teak. Perhaps more of the massacred dorado made it into the cockpit than I thought?
After our 12k walk to town and back we decided to tackle the vile odor, whatever it was. I was down below as Jim lifted up the teak grid. An excited, slightly fearful, definitely surprised yell escaped his body. Then the crash of the heavy grid slamming down. Then "a snake!" I climbed out the aft hatch; no reason to take any unnecessary chances.
Sure enough, there, slithering around the sole of the cockpit, was a banded sea snake. A pet! It wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind though. How the heck did it get there? Did it swim up a drain as Jim thinks, or did it stow away from the beach in our snorkeling gear as I think. I guess it didn't really matter, we just needed to get his slithering body over the side. Trying to hook him with the boat hook only succeeded in scaring him and possibly pissing him off. The bucket was a little too shallow. Turns out a cardboard 12 pack box is the perfect snake extractor. The snake crawled in and before he knew it, the whole thing was sailing through the air before it hit the water where he could shake his little head with the venomous little fangs and swim for his life. Just for good measure, and because we are a little frightened of the band of remoras living under Tenaya, we dinghied over to retrieve the box rather than diving in and swimming the few meters.
Upon release, Mr. Snakey dove quickly, slithering his thin, meter-long body in a series of graceful continuous Ss right under Tenaya. He didn't come out on the other side. I looked. So, if Jim's theory is correct, he may pay us another visit.. If he comes back, can I keep him?
Updated by HAM radio.