In a previous entry, Christmas and Mermaids, I briefly introduced a legendary voyage through the North-Southeast Atlantic into the Bahamas. This entry also comes from that memorable time on the sailboat High Cotton.

On our way between ports we would often anchor in the small cove of an uninhabited island, as there are countless in the Bahamas. One particular day we had a short day-sail (not sailing overnight) and anchored in a particularly beautiful spot. While Captain Frank (my father) relaxed in his usual oragnatan-like fashion, Cabin-boy Eric and I decided to lower the dingy in the water and investigate the booty of the nearby cays (islands). We snorkeled, fished, and were chased by an massive iguana whose name I forgot (any help Eric?), all the while collecting anything edible or interesting. This included a coconut. I had been waiting for coconut palms, I love coconut. We had just arrived to the Tropic of Cancer, into the the tropics where coconut palms grew. Thus, when I found this coconut on the middle of an island under a tall palm, that when squintily gazed up at against the baking noon sky looked like a coconut palm, I thought my patience had been rewarded. I threw the coconut in the dingy with the rest of the loot and we headed off.

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