Location: Sandy Spit

Having fallen asleep in the sail bag of the mainsail the night before, I was not surprised by the vibrations which woke me at 6:30 sharp this morning. As I had planned according to my duty as skipper of our lady Panasea, I awoke right on time and so I ever so gingerly climbed out of the sail bag, quickly realizing the price I paid for running down the entirety of Mount Sage the day before. Upon entering the salon, I was unsettled to find the crew of our lad Panasea sound asleep, and so I cranked the radio up to eleven because ten is not loud enough and commenced to play Pink Floyd’s masterpiece “Time.” If familiar with Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” one will not be surprised by the fact that within 18 seconds the entire boat was awake. And so the crew of our lady Panasea greeted the morning with the weary legs of hitchhikers and began the day by motoring over to Sandy Key where the Dolphins went to dive the Playgrounds and the Rescues in training were to complete our 4th and final search and recovery dive. A plan had been devised, we set out from the anchor in teams of four, and after our third cycle of the “u-pattern” search maneuver, I spotted the missing anchor, lodged in a coral head, shining like a platinum idol. After lounging in the silent reverie of our conquest, we rewarded ourselves with a lunch of top ramen noodles. Later the rescuers were allowed to dive the Playgrounds, where I was smacked in the face by a massive French Angelfish. We observed a rather large spiny lobster and marveled at the silently entrancing pillar coral. Although I was skipper today, I decided to continue my AQ tradition of preparing the annual meal of franks and beans, and for the third year in a row, I would like to think so at least, my sweet and spicy variation of franks and beans was a hit and was ravenously devoured by the crew. Having just recently completed the practical rescue oxygen exam, I stand here in the sort of limbo that can only be inspired by the transition that is twilight and for the sake of my mother who claims I am full of what the Romans called “stercus” I could not help but quote Walt Whitman who reminds us that “what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”