SOLO... not exactly

What the Gyre Brings !
episode two
by: Ralph E. Ahseln  10/2013

        Both shoe's strings were tied together with a large double knot. It had kept the pair together. The soles floating on the surface were like boat hulls. The tops, submerged, acted as keels. He watched as the ocean currents moved them slowly alongside . Where had them come from? Perhaps, some hapless sailor had lost them over the side while moving his gear. Then again, the homely pair may have come from some harbor, tossed aside by a fool who'd grown tired of their comic style. How long had they floated out there ? How many storms had they weathered? Still together, floating , god knows how long in these warm waters of the Southern ocean.

        "What story do you hide there?", he asked out loud. Then bending down and hooking a finger into one of the laces, he Lifted them up for a closer inspection. At first, he was fascinated by the amount of growth and the variety of live creatures the shoes held. Then in disgust he threw them back to the deck, and retched. The smell of rot was on them and the sliminess of their coatings was too foul for him to bear. Those clown-like shoes must have been floating off the coast of Africa for years. God knows what had filled them in the beginning, and what ugliness had gathered inside of them since then.

        He was about to fling them over the lifelines to leave them in his wake, when he looked at them as they lie there, those funny pumpkin colored, high top sneakers......
.... and he started to Laugh.

        He laughed long and hard. He kept laughing all the rest of that day. Each time he looked at that pair of ridiculous footwear, he would begin to giggle, chuckle, then laugh so hard he could hardly catch his breath. Yes, They did stink of decay. They reeked of rotting vegetation and sea life, But....Each time he looked at them,... He laughed.

        As a half dozen days and nights past, He began to realize that he no longer felt angry or bored. He was back to his old self. He had found his humor again, and that made the sea no longer an enemy. Could that old pair of shoes be the catalyst ? Certainly they had helped him feel better about himself. There was one thing that was bothering him about them though. The smell and slimy look of those orange KEDS.
He HAD to do something about that.

        At one week since the "visitors", had joined the boat, (he'd begun to call them that.) a tropical rain squall flooded the cockpit. Not only the cabin down below, but the shoes, as well, got a thorough drenching. Fresh water in abundance fell. The nearly empty tanks filled quickly and in his hands, the deck brush's stiff bristles began to rub away the detritus that had collected on the "Visitors".

        A good deal of soap and much scrubbing had gotten them clean enough for a closer look. The left shoe had a small tear at the toe and the top hems of both were frayed with bits of thread hanging around the edges. It looked almost like it had been done on purpose. "A Lacy fashion statement ?" he wondered.

        Even though they were weathered and had faded a bit, there was a Neon brightness to them, still. They almost glowed in their "orangeness". It amused him to look at them and he openly laughed again. "What size are these crazy things?" he shouted to no one in particular. Any inside print that might have told him, had long been bleached away. Exposure to salt water had removed most of the writing. A few letters remained, here and there, but none made a complete word. Nor were there any numbers.

        It was late in the afternoon when the sun broke the squall line and warmed everything in the boat. The shoes had began to dry. He picked up one and fit it to his foot. As he had suspected, it was too small. When the pair had sat on the bottom of the boat, they were covered with so much weed and growth, it had been hard to tell what size they might be. He'd figured all along that they wouldn't fit him and now he was sure. They were small, like a woman would wear. The thought made him laugh again. In his mind he saw a petite young woman, dressed as a clown wearing those impossibly ugly shoes.

        He gathered the shoes together and sat them inside one of the cockpit lockers. He had no idea why he was keeping them, but he just couldn't throw them away. They always made him feel good when they were in his sight. Kind of "company" on those long hours on watch.

        The days dragged on and he wasn't getting to Capetown very fast. But at least now he was feeling better about the whole trip. He spent more time looking out at the horizon seeing in it the fondness he had when he'd started all those months ago. He even started noticing the ocean close about him and enjoying what he saw there. Then he noticed that the waters around him seem to have more and more flotsam. More junk.

        Plastic, paper, buckets, bottles and even a construction hat was seen floating by. Each day the amount of trash increased. It wasn't until another week past that it hit him. He was on the Eastern edge of the Great South Atlantic GYRE. That body of water that rotates down the East coasts of South America and up the West Coast of Africa. Not only carrying the cool waters of the Antarctic and the rich cold water nutrients to the fisheries of the dark continent , but also the refuse of millions of souls in third world countries. It was that patch of discards and garbage he and his boat were passing through now. It was a "rich" harvest and watching it pass by was an odd entertainment for him.

        Once he used the boat hook to retrieve a beat up bright blue sweatshirt with "GAP" printed on it. It seemed to be in very good condition. Like most of the trash floating around, it was covered in weed and small creatures. He tossed it into a big plastic bucket that he pulled into the boat earlier that day. "I'll wash it later" he told himself.

        During the next few days, it got to be a kind of a game for him finding "treasures" floating around the boat. It occupied him most of the day. He'd captured several objects that were going to be projects for him in the days to come. One thing he prized was an oblong fishing net float. About the size of a small melon. He thought it might be kind of "arty" and may bring some extra cash in Capetown or some other port along the way. He had put it on top of the pedestal where it sat like some old salty sailor, watching and judging the young man on his marine skills.

        It happened early the next morning. He'd had a full 3 hours sleep. Since the boat was going so slowly, it had afforded him the luxury of long periods of rest. Normally, he would take many short naps in order to keep a good watch routine, but today, he'd slept well and was in good spirits. While sipping the morning coffee, he glanced at the fishing float still lodged at the front of the pedestal. "What a great idea!" he shouted. Jumping up he made for the cabin down below. Going through his own stash of clothes, he found what he was looking for. A pair of tight jeans he'd kept even though he couldn't fit into them anymore. Then he headed for the cockpit locker and the bucket he'd set out the day before. From the Bucket, he pulled out the Gap sweatshirt and quickly gave it a washing. He hurried to the cockpit storage locker, opening it, he lifted out those outrageous orange Keds. Then he started giggling to himself.

        Excitedly, he stretched the sweatshirt out on the Starboard cockpit coaming, carefully placing the skinny jeans underneath. It's legs draped over the seat and almost touched the deck. With the small length of fish netting remaining on the Float, he secured it to one of the starboard Winches, upright. Finally, he laid the two orange shoes under the jean's legs. If he used a little imagination, he saw a "companion" for him, stretching out on the Starboard cockpit seat. It was as near to a human as he's seen in a very long time. Now he could talk to someone. A friend he'd share stories with and laugh at. Best of all, He wouldn't be lonely anymore.

        Excitedly, he stretched the sweatshirt out on the Starboard cockpit coaming, carefully placing the skinny jeans underneath. It's legs draped over the seat and almost touched the deck. With the small length of fish netting remaining on the Float, he secured it to one of the starboard Winches, upright. Finally, he laid the two orange shoes under the jean's legs. If he used a little imagination, he saw a "companion" for him, stretching out on the Starboard cockpit seat. It was as near to a human as he's seen in a very long time. Now he could talk to someone. A friend he'd share stories with and laugh at. Best of all, He wouldn't be lonely anymore.

        Oriana .. Was born that day !

        He and "Ori" talked into the night. He talked, she listened. It was the best time in his life. Each day was filled with stories and songs. He told her of his life and sang all the sea shanties he knew. She listened. On warm star filled nights, he would hold her in his arms and share all the secrets he could tell no one else.

        He and "Ori" talked into the night. He talked, she listened. It was the best time in his life. Each day was filled with stories and songs. He told her of his life and sang all the sea shanties he knew. She listened. On warm star filled nights, he would hold her in his arms and share all the secrets he could tell no one else.

        He and "Ori" talked into the night. He talked, she listened. It was the best time in his life. Each day was filled with stories and songs. He told her of his life and sang all the sea shanties he knew. She listened. On warm star filled nights, he would hold her in his arms and share all the secrets he could tell no one else.

        He and "Ori" talked into the night. He talked, she listened. It was the best time in his life. Each day was filled with stories and songs. He told her of his life and sang all the sea shanties he knew. She listened. On warm star filled nights, he would hold her in his arms and share all the secrets he could tell no one else.

        His circumnavigation was almost two thirds done. It was going to be one of the best parts of his life. He wondered what would become of him and..... what would he do with Ori after it was all over? That thought of loosing Oriana was beginning to bother him. "It", She, had become such an important part of his life, how could he ever give it up? He slept fitfully many nights after that. Several times during the day, He would discuss the problem with her. He tried to explain that it would be difficult for other people to understand what Ori was and what her role was on the trip. Certainly, they would never understand his having a Fish float and some Orange shoes as a "Friend" once the circumnavigation was over. He did explain, quite candidly, that .. it may be necessary to dismantle her, Oriana, before they landed back in Portland. Because she was such a good listener, He was sure she understood.

        Somewhere in the middle of the Indian ocean, a few weeks later, It was that time of the month when another mini champagne celebration would happen. They'd made good distance since those slow days off the coast of Africa and now he was about to open the 19th bottle. It looked like he wasn't going to make Portland in the 24 months he'd planned, but he had a few bottles extra and they would likely be enough. He wondered if anyone had found one of the bottles yet. Along with the boat's position, he'd included an mailing address and a few dollars for postage, hoping that someone would return the bottle. He turned to Ori who had been laid out on the Quarter berth as he did every night, and discussed it with her. She listened.

        It had been a long day and the little bit of champagne hit him quickly. The boat was on autopilot and was sailing along at a pleasant 6 knots. He figured that he could catch a couple hours sleep before he had to get up to check the horizon. He lay his head on the pillow and was quickly fast asleep.

        He woke with a start. He bounced up and banged into the overhead. Cursing, he looked at his watch and what he saw shook him awake like a cold shower. he had slept for 6 hours ! He was terrified as to what might have happened. Sliding out of the sleeping bag, he hurriedly pulled on his pants and boots. As he climbed the cabin ladder, he glanced over to the quarter berth. She wasn't there.

        Propped up on the stern cockpit seat, behind the wheel, ... was a blue sweatshirt, it's sleeves resting on the spokes, a pair of Skinny jeans, a fish net float with painted eyes looking forward....., a smile on those red lips... and on the deck, a set of Crazy Orange Keds , ....... one foot tapping!

end of episode 2

r.ahseln
October 30, 2013

Episode 1

Episode 3