I huddled into my life jacket wanting it to cover more of my body. I was grateful for the warmth the worn-out rag provided, though I still doubted it’s worth as a life saver.
The wind blew the rain at me from the side, and a leak in the canopy dripped on my head. Wave after wave smashed over the boat’s gunwale, soaking me again and again, as we plowed through the freak storm. In my head, the melody from Gilligan’s Island played over and over.
I was wintering in Thailand, spending a low budget month on the southern island of Ko Lanta with three other couples. The highlight of each day was Happy hour, sometime after the second beach sitting and before the shower and dinner. Each day, one of us was responsible for going to the market to buying the bottle of gin, and cans of tonic. Today was my turn, I had bought the gin earlier because a couple of us were planning a fishing trip at Ko Rok, a national park, not more than a half hour across the water.
You could see it from our beach. Our host Yorg, was a German, who came here for three months each year. He was so into fishing that he bought his own longtail boat and hired a captain for three months. Chump change for him, easy money for the captain.
The Thai long-tail is a 20-foot, canoe-like boat, made even longer by the 12 foot propeller shaft. It is powered by a lawnmower-sized diesel motor balanced on the stern. To steer, you change the direction of the long shaft. The motor has no muffler, and the noise and length fueled the macho libido of the boating Thai men. Early each morning we woke to Yorg going fishing.
This morning we were eager to get up. Take-out pad thai from the restaurant for lunch, and a few dozen beer in a cooler. A three hour tour—a boat ride, some snorkeling, and a bit of fishing on the way. We would be back by happy hour.
Ko Rok was charming, white sand, a couple of sailboats nestled in a quiet cove. We fished all the way there, had lunch, snorkeled, and drank beers in the hot sun. Looking back across to our island, we saw it engulfed in a black cloud. A great photo-op, and a great day to be on the water and fishing.
By late afternoon, everything had cleared up, and there was enough time to take one more fishing pass around the island and still get back at sundown for G&Ts and supper.
We came out from behind the lee of the island, and turned towards a beautiful sunset and Ko Lanta. Suddenly, without warning, a black cloud appeared overhead, and a mighty wind hit us head on. Within minutes we were being tossed like a cork on monstrous waves.
The canopy had kept the sun off our backs, but did nothing for the driving rain and walls of seawater that crashed over the boat. The long narrow boat made little headway through the waves. The bottom of the boat was filling with water. It seemed considerably less seaworthy than it had that morning. I wondered at our chances. I looked back at the captain. The old man was standing at the narrow stern staring intently over the waves, his face expressionless. He would gun the engine occasionally, and miraculously rise over the crest of a monstrous wave, as if he was counting and knew it was coming. I hoped he did.
As darkness fell, we hunkered into the storm. My teeth chattering, I shivered with hyperthermia. I tried counting the waves. How many per minute? How many per hour? Minutes turned to hours. And hours passed as we tossed in the waves. It was dark. It was cold. We were beyond wet. I had to pee. The warmth lasted a few seconds as it ran down my leg, but another wave washed me clean.
Suddenly the motor stopped. The boat pitched wildly as it turned sideways into the wind. The captain and his helper scurried about like monkeys on the stern. The engine had come off its mount. They were tying it on with a rope. The kid jumped into the water to fasten the rope to something below, and as easily he jumped back into the boat. The motor started again.
Then as quickly as the storm started, it ended. The moon and stars appeared and a warm tropical breeze warmed us as we entered the lee of Ko Lanta. It was like nothing had happened. As the boat picked up speed we laughed nervously
It was past 10 when we finally made shore. The beach bar and restaurant had long since closed. Oh well, no supper, but a big fat gin and tonic would help us celebrate the fact we were still alive.
As we approached, I could see my buddy’s wife was quite drunk. “Where were you guys” she grunted, as if we had been off doing something other than nearly drowning.
I hugged my partner, and began to describe our ordeal. “I need a drink. Where’s that Gin?” I asked.
“Gin? Its long gone.” they said.
“What do you mean? That was my bottle,” I said.
“No, it was just your turn to buy”
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