ANOTHER GECKO STORY
If you've perused this site you probably noticed a number of gecko pictures both real and imaginary. I guess I have a soft spot in my brain for these beasts. My daughter Chris and I were having this e-mail conversation about a doe and fawn she had captured on film in her back yard in Pennsylvania and the conversation naturally, well maybe not naturally as I tend to steer toward these things, turned to geckos aboard boats. I guess you had to be there. Anyway here's another gecko story. There is no point to this regarding hurricanes, just another cruising memory.
Another gecko story. I sailed from Florida to Rhode Island in 1995 and 140 miles offshore in the axis of the Gulf Stream, I wrote about this in A Fully Equipped Sailboat For Sale, I noticed a gecko running about in the cockpit. It was more than rough and I attempted to capture it, ostensibly to save it, people do that with the mistaken notion that they're omnipotent. Failing that I put water out for it and later thought it was lost when I had that near-tragic accident. Weeks after reaching shore I passed through New York Harbor going north and spent two or three days in a tiny marina on the north shore of Long Island. I had spent a night off the boat, rented a car for a foray into the City, and returning one bright-sunshine-filled morning to the dock, which was almost on shore, I finally spied my gecko friend on the dock looking about with those characteristic quick back and forth flicks of the head presumably looking for me as we had not been apart for months and had become close due to some nightlong conversations regarding the nutritional value of insects. Perhaps he was worried about me. Anyway here was a tropical beast in a decidedly non-tropical neighborhood who would certainly perish if he remained to witness the harsh New York winter. He may have realized this and as I approached looked up at me and said, "Hola amigo, que pasa? Vamanos?" He was a Mexican gecko you understand and even though had lived in the US for months lacked language skills and conversed only in Spanish. We both shared that disability. And with those words said he jumped onto one of the dock lines and scampered onto Nereis looking back to see if I was following. He remained aboard through the New York summer and perhaps returned to the tropics with me when I left those waters in early October. I never saw him upon arrival and he might have perished or been swept overboard on that first night's voyage down the New Jersey coast, also written about in The Visitor where I seemingly had a long conversation with some being who spent the night. More about her later. It was an interesting nightlong meeting with a very interesting voyager. Both of these stories appear in TILLER TALES.
Another gecko story. I sailed from Florida to Rhode Island in 1995 and 140 miles offshore in the axis of the Gulf Stream, I wrote about this in A Fully Equipped Sailboat For Sale, I noticed a gecko running about in the cockpit. It was more than rough and I attempted to capture it, ostensibly to save it, people do that with the mistaken notion that they're omnipotent. Failing that I put water out for it and later thought it was lost when I had that near-tragic accident. Weeks after reaching shore I passed through New York Harbor going north and spent two or three days in a tiny marina on the north shore of Long Island. I had spent a night off the boat, rented a car for a foray into the City, and returning one bright-sunshine-filled morning to the dock, which was almost on shore, I finally spied my gecko friend on the dock looking about with those characteristic quick back and forth flicks of the head presumably looking for me as we had not been apart for months and had become close due to some nightlong conversations regarding the nutritional value of insects. Perhaps he was worried about me. Anyway here was a tropical beast in a decidedly non-tropical neighborhood who would certainly perish if he remained to witness the harsh New York winter. He may have realized this and as I approached looked up at me and said, "Hola amigo, que pasa? Vamanos?" He was a Mexican gecko you understand and even though had lived in the US for months lacked language skills and conversed only in Spanish. We both shared that disability. And with those words said he jumped onto one of the dock lines and scampered onto Nereis looking back to see if I was following. He remained aboard through the New York summer and perhaps returned to the tropics with me when I left those waters in early October. I never saw him upon arrival and he might have perished or been swept overboard on that first night's voyage down the New Jersey coast, also written about in The Visitor where I seemingly had a long conversation with some being who spent the night. More about her later. It was an interesting nightlong meeting with a very interesting voyager. Both of these stories appear in TILLER TALES.
Enough said about that.
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