One hell of a first night show

    We went to the store and then to breakfast. After our last shore shower, we climbed aboard and set sail. The wind was light from the south and we floated into the narrow passage through the Copeland Islands. I couldn’t resist the temptation to go back to a familiar place. I know how to anchor there, and I know the swimming is good. And if the bioluminescence is anything like last time… it will make a hell of a first night at anchor for them. The most stressful part of the day is when it is time to drop the sails and find moorage. Today was no exception. I knew the bay enough to know where the hazards are, but if there are too many boats then I would need to use a stern line to shore, which I’ve never done before. As we approached Galley Bay there were four other boats already anchored there. Oddly enough, none were in the most protected spot near the head of the bay. After two tries, we anchored using a bow and stern. I didn’t want to drag into the yachts beside us. We rowed to shore and hiked around to the oyster farm and swam in the warm water pockets. The sun soon went behind the trees and we hiked through the brush back to our cove where we watched the older folks gather around the VCR in their yachts. Just as the pink sky began to go black, a small sailboat motored in and tried to anchor. I wanted to ask if they wanted to raft up to me, but I didn’t for some reason. I think I was just shy. After dinner, we sat on deck and waited for the sky to go dark. Aldo wanted to see the stars and I wanted to show them the amazing bioluminescence Chris and I witnessed in this very spot. But the later it got, the sky didn’t get darker. It looked like there was a city with all of its light pollution just on the other side of the trees. I wondered if they were doing construction on the other side of the hill or something. Although there was no moon, you didn’t need a flashlight to go outside. It was very strange. It began to get cool. When I went below to get a sweater, I heard this eerie music. I though it must be coming from a nearby television. But it seemed too loud. I went outside and realized it was from that small sailboat. I could make out a silhouette of a man playing a traditional wooden flute. The beautiful tones resonated across the water and echoed off the treed just as it had a hundred years before. We sat in silence and listened. I wished I had asked them to raft up to us. Perhaps I could have accompanied him with my drum. Finally we all laid down to sleep. At about 3am, Aldo got up for a bathroom break. I was awoken by his footsteps on the deck. I thought I would take this opportunity to show him the bioluminescence. But somehow, it was not yet dark out. I looked in all directions. There seemed to be white spotlights coming out of the northern horizon. And the city lights were now coming from the east and west horizons. Here is was trying to show my friend from L.A. how spectacular the darkness in the wilderness really is and it is like we are in the middle of New York or something! What’s the deal?!? I looked straight up at the stars. There was a light yellow film of clouds or fog directly overhead. Then the fog turned into three lines, then began to move. I thought for a second that it must be really windy up there to be moving the clouds that quickly. Then it stopped and reversed then started over again. Then the clouds moved again to form a different shape. Then they straightened again to start over. It was about then I yelled, "Hey you guys wake up! It’s the freakin’ northern lights!" We watched the show for as long as we could stay awake. The greenish, yellow hue of mist looked like a special effect in a movie. I couldn’t believe it was right there in front of my eyes. Who else was seeing this? What does this mean.

I guess these guys are having one hell of a first night at anchor after all. How am I going to top this tomorrow?

Frank

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