When Sailboats Dance

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. That’s when it happens. The boats heed the call and dance along. By then, most humans are fast asleep. The ceremony observed only by the few who sit quietly on deck with open hearts and minds.

The boats understand we all share the same turquoise waters.

During the day the live aboard cruisers spend time ashore, exploring, provisioning and chatting with fellow boaters and locals. After, there are the ritual dips in the ocean, drinks in the cockpit and the sunset salute by cruisers blowing on conk shells.

Meals are hastily assembled using whatever provisions were acquired at the last port, or stowed onboard. Some take fine champagne, caviar and brie out of a large stainless fridge. Others grab wilted veggies from a cooler and fry them with a can of Spam.

But we all share the same turquoise waters.

Dishes are done, some by uniformed crew members in a full kitchen. Others scrub them in sea water off the stern sugar scoop.

The charts come out and decisions are made about the next day’s sail. Some are done by a hired captain who plots the route on sophisticated equipment. The route is charted and notes for the next day written in a log book. Others pour over charts and log routes into tablets or smart phones. Old salts and purists still use a sextant.

But we all share the same turquoise waters.

If there’s a good internet connection or phone signal, stories are exchanged and updates shared with fellow boaters and loved ones on land. It’s important they know you’re alive and well.

The days adventures ashore are relived. Some went to shore in large tenders with high power motors, and shopped in boutiques and dined in the finest restaurants. Others rowed a beat up dinghy to a beach and climbed over coral rocks to a beach shack for conch fritters and fries.

But we all share the same turquoise waters.

As night closes, a little music drifts over the anchorage. The boats ready themselves for their own party. They wait patiently while the humans play their tunes. Sometimes it’s loud with pounding bass from a party on shore. Other times it’s a beautiful keyboard, a strumming guitar, or soulful bagpipes. Musicians at sea sharing their gift. Occasionally its soft jazz accompanied by the clinking of glasses and laughter wafting from a super yacht at the edge of the anchorage.

But we all share the same turquoise waters.

The music quiets and yawns take over. Things are stowed, bedtime routines are done. Some slip into a king sized bed with freshly laundered sheets. Others crawl up to a thin foam mattress in the bow. Still others climb into hammocks or bunk beds.

And then at midnight under purple clouds the boats begin their dance. Anchor lights move in unison high atop masts or on trawlers. Some boats sway gently, as if to a lullaby. Others gyrate to the clanging beat of the wind playing with an unsecured halyard. A few swing on a whim, circling the anchor, at one with the creatures of the ocean. Big charter boats dance to favourite party tunes and flash bright disco lights, their sleeping passengers oblivious to the motion. The largest of tenders, and the smallest of dinghies or kayaks, bob along to the beat, tethered behind their mothership.

Occasionally a boat dances alone in a secluded cove. Oh how she swirls to a tune of her own creation. The humans she holds deep in her womb protected from harm. If you are on such a boat and are one of the chosen ones, you will behold a display of pure joy and freedom.

Dawn will soon arrive and the humans of the water will go back to the lives they live. Some arranging spa dates at the local marina or hiring a tour guide to show them the island’s highlights. Others barely getting by, harvest coconuts and mangos or dive for fish and lobster. They haul fresh water from the kind places that offer it for free. They launch inflatable dinghies to shore and hike to see the wonder each new local offers.

But before midnight, the humans sleep, except the lucky few who wait to see the boats dance under purple clouds.

The boats understand, we all share the same turquoise waters.

Until the dark storm came…