Flashback Friday - Champagne & Brine

We were nestled in a wreath of storms, but in the center the sun shone and the sky was clear. The first leg of our sail was smooth and gentle, and we stretched leisurely out on the nets above the clear bright water. Rum punch and mimosas went down smooth and quick as the sails billowed overhead.

The ride back was a different story. The wind had picked up and the sea was stirred awake by the storms. Were we standing in the cabin, we could have felt our feet practically lift off the floor as the boat rose and dove.

But we weren’t in the cabin. That day we had more guts than brains, and more adrenaline than preservation instinct. We scurried our way up to the front. We wanted to ride the nets.

Mimosas in hand didn’t last long – they were soon all over us. No matter, as we needed both hands to hang on. Face to face with the raw power of Nature, we shot and lunged through 12 foot swells, our line of vision offering alternating frames of solid sky and churning turquoise sea. We clung to the nets, knuckles white, tendons aching. Hearts racing with wide smiles. The warm water sprayed forcefully over the bow and through the nets with brute force. Sharp, stinging liquid needles that would then melt and caress over us. Salt burned my eyes and my hair rudely lashed my face. Ocean and wind tag teamed us, and we laughed in the face of danger. At times we were lifted clear off the nets, hooked only by our fingers. Exhausting – and exhilarating.

I was inches from the side and only one slip from going over into the currents. I remember being keenly aware that my thrillseeking could cost me my life that day. But it was worth the risk. Dancing so close to fatality can show you what it truly means to be alive. To FEEL life, thundering through you.

Were I asked, I would say - St. Maarten tastes like champagne and brine.