Cactus, Tequila, and Shufflebaord

Hello Folks,
Welcome to the Sonoran Desert.
That's right, we are smack in the middle of Blue Hair, Snow Bird, Winter visitor, Arizona.

It's been so long since I last blogged I feel ashamed to ask anyone to read them. But, here goes another one of my mindless rambles about life on the road.

We have put quite a few miles on Red Rooster and Andiamo 3 since we last sent out a blog. We left here in Arizona last April and headed east and south to Big Bend National Park in South Texas. It was one of the most amazingly beautiful sights I have ever beheld. Mountains dusted with snow and wild flowers in the form of Blue Bonnets, Indian Paintbrush, and well as many forms of desert cacti. It was magical.

While we were sitting in our lawn chairs sipping tequila one evening and start gazing, we decided to head north to Alaska. Sounds like a song in there somewhere. So we left the dry souther climes and started North to some big county.

It's a LONG way to Alaska from Terlingua, Texas. We figured about 4,600 miles one way! We make a conscious choice to take our time and not get in a big hurry to get there or see it. So we spent the next 6 months heading North and West. We entered Canada on July 5 and made it into Alaska three weeks later. Along the way we saw lots of amazing country. And once again, we found Canadians to be some of the most delightful folks we have ever met. They are light hearted, funny, self effacing people that love to have fun. Our kind of folks. We actually tell people if Trump wins the next election we are moving to Canada.

We fished, hiked, biked, and drove all over Western Canada. From Alberta to British Columbia to the Yukon Territory we explored as much as we could. Then we entered Alaska and headed about due north. We ended up about 300 miles north of Fairbanks, Ak and 60 miles above the Arctic Circle. We arrived in early August to find fall had fell up there and snow was expected the following week!

From there we went West and South to Homer, AK and spent a week on the Homer Spit. We explored and met new folks and visited with people I knew 45 years ago when I traveled with the singing group Up With People. It was a great time. The food was amazing as well as the company.

We worked our way along the Southwestern part of Alaska visiting Valdez, and Seward as well as my taking a three day trip alone to Cordova to fish with a good friend from Denver. Six of us caught 900 pounds of fish in 4.5 hours. It took all of us 2.5 hours just to clean the fish. It was epic. We caught Ling Cod, Halibut, Rock fish and some other stuff as well. Charlie and I ended up with about 70 pounds of fish fillets!!

We messed around Alaska until the snow started falling and headed back to Canada in late September. We too another month to return to Denver in late October.

Our trip was one we say "everyone ought to do" in their lifetime if at all possible. You may not choose to go the same 13,000 miles we did, but find some way to visit one of our largest state.

After spending a few days on the Colorado River doing some fall fishing we headed to North Arkansas to meet friends to fish the White and Norfork Rivers for elusive trout. Then on to our home town of Hot Springs, Arkansas to see friends and family.

After spending two weeks sailing in the Caribbean we started what is becoming our annual trek to southern Arizona. Along the way we visited friends in Austin and then visited Kartchner Caverns State Park near Benson, AZ. It is a remarkable cave that has been preserved as well as any you will ever enter. Stop in for a tour next time you visit AZ.

Our travels have taught us much about ourselves and each other. We both continue to love one another more each day. We still can't believe this all started with one dance at our 40th high school reunion. But it did, and here we are going on 4 years later.

We invite you to take risks. Get off the couch and out of your comfort zone. Make life happen!
Otherwise you are just another bystander on the side of the road watching others go by.

My next blog with post pictures and poetry from my trip to Nepal in January.

Peace to all.

Namaste,

Coy, Charlie, and Jojo the pretty good dog most of the time
 

Shave and a Haircul .... Six Bits

Shave and a Haircut… six bits.

That was what the sign read in the window. I am not quite sure but I think a “bit” is a modern day quarter. So back in the late 1950’s a fella could get his hair cut and his face shaved for $1.50.

I have wondered many times over the last 60 years of my life why my daddy would get a shave as well as a haircut at Lloyd’s Barber Shop. It was a little hole in the wall joint. Out front, a red and white striped barber pole revolved.  When I was a young boy, it was always one of my favorite places to go with him.

I loved the smells that hit you as you walked in. A mixture of Vitalis and cigarette smoke filled the air. Lloyd would look up when we walked in, always smile and say, “Well looky here, it’s big Coy and little Coy. Have a seat fellas I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”

Lloyds’ was an institution in my hometown. It was the only place my father ever got his hair cut, and he always got a hot shave after his haircut. It was a ritual that both intrigued and scared me at the same time. I was intrigued by all the stuff in the shop; scared when Lloyd would hold up that straight razor to check its sharpness.

Behind Lloyd stood a row of bottles of stuff named Wild Rose Hair Tonic, Pinaud for men, and Clubman after shave tonic. To me they all smelled like my father’s after shave, Vitalis. Along side these tonics stood a big, clear jar full of combs in some sort of blue water called Barbersol. I learned much later it was to disinfect all the hair styling combs in the place.

I remember an older black man that ran a shoe shine stand in the back on the shop. He would always show me how he could make the shoe shine rag snap and pop as we whistled an old blues tune. I loved the smell of shine polish. It was intoxicating to me as men would crawl up in the big red chair with oak arms and bright shiny foot stirrups where my father would often put his cowboy boots and get a “shine”. I think it cost an extra quarter for that.

Another memory that floods into my mind was the gumball machine near the front door. It was filled with every color of gumballs known to man. My favorite happened to be green so I would ask for some pennies to try and get my green gumball. I would load penny after penny into the slot under the round glass ball and turn the handle with one hand while holding the other under the place where they popped out. Inevitably it would take at least ten pennies before a green one would roll out. Since I had nowhere to put the previous eight or nine of them they went into my mouth. My mouth would be completely filled with bubble gum to the point red ooze ran out of the corners. I was in sugar heaven.

About that time, Lloyd would be preparing to shave my father like a mortician preparing for an autopsy. He would carefully open a leather pouch that held all the straight razors he used in his trade. I thought they were beautiful with pearl and ivory handles on one end and shiny stainless steel on the other.

Lloyd would grab a long brown leather strap and start expertly moving the blade of the chosen razor back and forth to put an edge on it, so he wouldn’t slice my dad’s throat in the shaving process.

Next, he would pull a steaming hot towel out of the sink and wrapped it around my dad’s face being careful not to cover his bulbous nose. To me it looked like steaming lava and Lloyd always asked if it was too hot and my dad would mumble something under the towel.

Then it was time for the show to begin. Loyd would mix up shaving cream and slather it on. While stretching the skin on daddy’s face, he would slowly bring the glistening edge of the razor down across his face and wipe off the excess on the back of his hand. He repeated this process over and over until he had shorn every hair on my father’s rugged face.

Finally, the encore would begin as he deftly reached for another hot towel and swirled it around Dad’s face to remove all the excess shaving cream. This act was followed by him dumping a large quantity of Club Man after shave into his hands and slapping it on both sides of Dad’s face. His movements were poetry in motion. Every move he made was timed perfectly. I sat and watched with slack jawed amazement.

It has been at least 50 years since I sat and watched my father get a shave from someone else. It never really occurred to me why anyone with two hands would pay to have someone they barely knew put a knife against their jugular vein and start scraping. But several months ago one of my buddies told me he had started getting hot shaves at his local barber shop, known as Floyd’s. I asked him what it was like and he responded with a look that was akin to an orgasm. Wow, I thought, I gotta do this someday.

Two weeks ago I was walking through the little town of Sisters, Oregon looking for a barbershop. As I turned a corner I saw the sign, Outlaw Barber Shop, Haircuts and Hot Shaves. It was meant to be.

So at age sixty, after getting my first hot shave I am looking back and asking myself, why I wasted at least forty years of my life without this incredible experience.

Gonzo, the tattooed barber was as skilled as Lloyd from fifty years ago. The process was exactly the same. Hot towels, shave cream, and a slap of aftershave. The results were amazing. I have not felt so relaxed in a long time.

After he finished, we chatted about the lost art of a hot shave. He spoke of trying to bring the old timey barbershop back, complete with many of the same bottles of tonic on the shelf behind him.

I think he is on to something great and now I finally understand why my dad always got a haircut and shave. Maybe the best bargain in town for six bits.

The Land of Quoz

There is a term for those events that occur in our lives when we least expect them. It ‘s called a Quoz. Defined as "quoz" is a noun "referring to anything strange, incongruous, or peculiar; at its heart is the unknown, the mysterious.

We have decided to be open to and even search for quoz’s on our journey along the road of life.

For instance, a quoz happened to occur today. As we were driving toward Scott’s Bluff Nebraska, Charlotte was looking for a place to eat tonight. She didn’t find a restaurant but did stumble across an ice cream store that sold Black Walnut Ice Cream.

Then she told me about working at Cook’s Ice Cream in Hot Springs, Arkansas when she was a kid. And I do mean a kid. She started there when she was 13. Her favorite flavor was Black Walnut which is not in the bins of places like Baskin Robbins or Cold Stone Creamery.

Later in the day, as she was driving I started looking for a good Mexican food diner. We settled on El Molcajete, which is located in the industrial part of town. At dinner, our granddaughter asked if we were stopping for ice cream after dinner. We said maybe, but most likely not.

When we left the diner, which was excellent by the way, we pulled out onto the street and started back to the camper when I noticed the little storefront next door that looked closed in spite of two “open” signs. As we went by Charlotte realized it was the place that served Black Walnut.

After a quick u-tern we pulled in a found the Platt Valley Creamery very much open. As it has been since 1932! We stood in the parking lot and enjoyed the full butterfat version of some of the best ice cream I have ever tasted.

That was a quoz.

We pondered what the chances were that the diner I picked would end up being right next door to the store she had read about earlier. Simply amazing. And thanks to Grace for mentioning ice cream over dinner. If not, we might have driven right by without even seeing the tiny sign offering homemade ice cream.

We are experiencing more and more quoz’s along the road now that we are open to “seeing” them.

I will be sharing more of these experiences as we continue our journeys down the highway. Our plan is to spend the next ten days in the Black Hills of South Dakota, then back to Denver for a week. About July 6 we are hoping to start fishing our way toward Seattle and hope to arrive there in late August. Who knows after that. Stay tuned.

I invite you to start looking for quoz along the road of you life. Ours is richer and more fulfilling since we started seeking quoz every day. Maybe you will find some Black Walnut Ice Cream along the way.

Did I make a difference with the time I was given?

Today I am celebrating my 21,900th day on planet earth. That's 525,600 hours or 31,536,000 minutes.
When I look at those numbers I start reflecting on what has occurred in my world over that period of time. Basically what I have done with all this time.

Let's see, if I figure I slept and average of 8 hours per 24 hours, that means I have been awake physically for about 350,400 hours or 14,600 days.

During my waking ours I suspect I spent on average about 3 hours a day eating, so that shaves off another 65,700 hours or about 2737. 5 days. Which leaves me with a mere 11,862.5 days to make a mark on the world.

Then I figure I spent about 6 hours a day for 19 years in school. So that took another 1/4 of about 6935 days or a total of 1,733.75 days out of the equation, which leaves me with about 10,128 days.

So,,,, now I guess I have spent about 1 hour a day with personal hygiene, excluding those bouts of diarrhea when I had Montezuma's revenge back in 1993. So knock off another 912 days. Now we are down to 9216 days for me to be productive.

But wait! I know I have spent at least an average of 2 hours a day in a vehicle moving about the planet. That shaves off another 18,432 hours or 768 days. Then I had 8448 days of productivity in life.

But wait again! The first 9 years of my life were not all that focussed on doing much other than surviving and eating. That's is an additional 3285 days. So lets take off those years. Here I now have had an amazing 5163 days to make a difference.

But wait, wait, wait!!! I guess I have spent at the very minimum at least 5 hours a day doing absolutely nothing with my life. Which is not the worst thing in the world. Doing nothing has it's benefits as well as it's pitfalls. But in terms of making a difference in the world, lets just say, those daily hours were not all that productive. So I am hacking off another 25,850 Hours or 1,077 days. Well it looks like that gave me 4086 days to leave some sort of good mark on the planet.

Then I started thinking about work time. I have worked in some sort of capacity for about 35 years. Let's say I averaged a 40 hour work week. That is probably a stretch, but it's a round number. Let's see, that is 72,800 hours of work time. Dang, no wonder I am tired at times. That translates into 3033.3 days of my life at the grindstone. So that left me with 1050 days to make a difference or about 17 days a year.
So over 60 years I have had about 1.4 days or 33.6 hours each month, or about 1.1 hours a day to really make a difference in the world!

I am starting to see why every minute counts.  My hope is that over the course of the next 25 years that I can spend less time sleeping, eating, working, and just goofing off to leave this place a little better than I found it or maybe a better way of saying it is better than it found me. Anyway, this little exersize in math has me pondering the idea that every day counts. It may not seem that way when we are going through the routine of daily living, but I now am a wee bit more conscious about the choices I make as I go through my day.

I hope this muse invites all of you to take stock in what you do today. I know we have responsibility to get stuff done, and brush our teeth and floss, but if my calculations are close, we all have at least one hour, or 60 minutes, or 3600 seconds a day to make a difference and leave the planet a little better than we found it.

Here are some ideas ....
It takes one second to say "thanks"
2 seconds to say "thank you"
3 seconds to tell some one you love them
4 seconds to say "I really appreciate that"
5 seconds to say "can I help you in any way?"
6 seconds to say "You are doing a great job. Keep up the good work"
10 seconds to help an elderly person cross the street
30 seconds to carry someones groceries out of the store for them
5 minutes to call a friend and just let them know you are thinking of them.
30 minutes to stop by the home of someone that is in need
60 minutes to do a small act of service for someone .... like mowing their yard or helping them change a tire on the freeway

The moment we believe we do not have time to help someone else is the moment we have lost all perspective on what it means to live.

Just something to think about ........

Captain Coy Theobalt

YOU NEVER SEE A HEARSE PULLING A U-HAUL

Charlie and I have spent the pass couple of weeks going through our "stuff". We sold the house within a month and now need to get on down the road so to speak.
As some of your know, we are moving toward being full-timers on the old RV circuit. Which is frightening and challenging in itself. Then comes the most difficult part of our journey so far. Getting rid of stuff, storing stuff, or trashing stuff.

So that brings me to the purpose of this blog. Many of you including myself have lived in basically the same house for a long period of time. This means you have more stuff than you can imagine. If you don't believe me, just go look into the back of the place where you store your baking or cooking utensils. See, I told you so. So listen, this is really important.

NOBODY wants your stuff. Stop telling yourself that the kids will want aunt so and so's crochet doily that you have been hauling around all these years. They don't want our stuff. As we have sifted through years of our stuff it is becoming painfully clear that 99% of it is useless junk. Perfect for a thrift store or the church closet for the needy. But not to hold onto.

I was fine until it came to my clothes. I stalled out, just stood there looking at my clothes but more importantly, my prize Tee Shirts!! The ones I have worn so many times, they cannot be washed again. They represent me in some weird way. How crazy is that. Well not too crazy if you put it in the context of our culture. We are told that stuff is what we need in life to be happy. Once again, if you don't believe me just turn on the TV to one of those info/buy places. Or perhaps a ball game with over 100 commercials in 3.5 hours. Look not at the product but the underlying message. Many of them are basically saying, if you want to be cool or hip, you need get off your ass and get over the computer and buy some more stuff. Forget going to the store, you can shop from the comfort of that spot on the couch that has a permanent contour of you when you get up to the computer. Don't get me started on food advertising.

That felt good. Now back to reality. I am coming to some realizations that I would like to pass on that I hope will help you when you start downsizing, or rightsizing as I like to call it. I guarantee you that at some point in that process you will come to at least two awakenings. One is that you have WAY too much stuff. Two is that you are very attached to it. When you start having to decide which box to put it in, I recommend breathing and telling yourself the truth. Which is "NOBODY WANTS THIS OLD STUFF.

I am very attached to the hand sewn blankets my granny quilted with her two sister while sitting in the living room watching the Reverend Billy Graham in black and white. I think I have about 15 of them in a box in the garage. I have not seen these relics in at least 20 years or more. But the minute that box comes open my heart strings get plucked thinking about how much I loved my granny. Then I can't imagine getting rid of any of these relics. So I gently fold them back up and put them back in the box. I am sure somebody will want these when I am gone. Trust me on this one, NOBODY WANTS YOUR GRANNY"S OLD QUILTS.  Oh sure, if I had the time I could sort them and give some to each of my children or grandkids. But most of our kids don't want more stuff. They have way too much stuff already. And they are not attached to the past like we are.

I can just hear some of you thinking, he better not give those blankets to the thrift store or God forbid, put them in the trash box.

After  selling a good bit of our stuff, making 13 trips to the thrift store, and 6 truck loads of books to the library which I am sure they sent directly to the incinerator, we are starting to get down to what really matters. Christmas ornaments!

It felt sacrilegious putting the baby Jesus in the black trash bag that was heading to the thrift store. I am not kidding about this. Just wait until you go through your religious artifacts in the storage closet. Even marking out "Christmas Stuff" on the plastic bins made me queazy. This just shows me how engrained all of this stuff is in my brain. It's like I have been hardwired to think all this religious stuff is SO important. It looks more like a pile ancient ruins laying there with lights, candles, angels, broken glass ornaments, etc. Can you imagine what they will say two hundred years from now when they start looking into all those hermetically sealed storage units around the country.

So it's time to start getting rid of your stuff before you have to or God forbid, your kids have to. That is about the worst thing you can do is die with a house full of your precious junk. Trust me, NOBODY WANTS YOUR STUFF.

So here is what I am learning:

1) NOBODY WANTS MY STUFF
2) My stuff is not very cool anymore
3) Most of my stuff has not been seen by anyone in over 20 years
4) It's really hard to get rid of stuff that I have decided is important to me
5) It is freeing when I let go of all that and say good buy to my stuff
6) I am starting to feel lighter ever day
7) We are doing my kids a favor by getting rid of our stuff
8) I wish I would have dematerialized many years ago

And here is what I recommend should you decide it's time. Believe me, it's way past time to declutter your life. First have your kids go through all your stuff to see if they want any of it. If so, have them remove it from your house. You are not their personal storage unit.

1) it gets easier every day - Keep an open box in the LR to put stuff into
2) the more I get rid of the more I want to get rid of
3) make four piles - give away, sell, keep, trash.
4) After you have your piles, go back through the sell and keep piles and get rid of 50% of each pile.
5) Now you are ready to start four new piles with what is left - Keep, sell, give away and trash
6) repeat steps 4 and 5.

Now you should be able to put your stuff in a 10x10 storage unit. If not, go back to steps 3 thru 6.
I am so sure that some of you are feeling terrible right now just thinking about it. It's not easy. Make it a game. Just realize how attached to stuff you are. Saying to yourself, there is no way I am going to go through this. This is crazy. What is crazy is that you falsely believe your stuff is of any value to anyone.

But the rewards are amazing. You will feel lighter, more free, relaxed, and awake. Now you will have the energy to do what you have been putting off. You have cash, space, and time. So get out there!

And for the record, none of my granny's quilts were harmed in this process. They will be safely tucked into that storage space.

Be well,

Capt Coy, Charlotte, and Jojo the pretty good dog

Dancing in the rain

Fresh Starts

It’s not often that one gets the opportunity to start fresh in life. Maybe I should rephrase that to say it’s not often that one TAKES the opportunity to shed the life that they have lived for x many years and takes a different road to see what lies around the next curve.

For some folks it might be economic suicide to just pull the plug and hit the road. For others it might be their salvation from the life they created that has gone from Dream to Nightmare. Nevertheless, if you do decide to follow your bliss and do what you want more than what you thank you have to do, it will not come without sacrifice at some level.

You will be leaving the security of the known, which is a misnomer. Life is no more secure than an investment was with Bernie Madoff. Security is a misnomer as well. Think about it. What in your life is really secure, meaning it will be there when all hell breaks loose in life. And you know sooner or later it will.

I think this faulty believing is the root of most anxiety in folks today. We want with all our hearts for this myth to be true. But it ain’t. It’s akin to believing in Santa or the Easter Bunny. I know you don’t want to hear this. Neither did I until I realized how ludacris it was to keep thinking this way. Not to mention the joy I now feel since I started embracing the reality of life rather than the plastic myth of what life “should be” over what it actually is.

Heck, I always thought/believed my first marriage would last forever, ‘til death do we part. I also thought that about my second marriage. But life has this way of throwing us curve balls that we did not anticipate in the beginning.

Things like addictions, diseases, lost love, affairs, more affairs, kids that didn’t act the way you thought they would, pestilence. I just added the last one for effect. I hope it worked.

I don’t give an owl’s hoot how much faith you have, or the meditation practice you have had for 22 years, or the lucky walrus tooth you keep in your pocket. Let me tell you something. Shit happens. Yes, that’s right, things occur ( if you’re Baptist), but mark my word, something will sooner or later rain on your parade.

The key is learning to dance in the rain. Find a new step by listening very closely to the new music of your life. Stop and sit down on a stump and cogitate what “is” in your life rather than stomping your feet and throwing a tantrum because life is not showing up the way you planned.

Here is the good part. All the stuff that has happened or is happening to you is OK. Even if you’re dying of cancer, it’s not something to fret about, rather it’s something to learn from. Either life is about collecting more stuff or it’s not. And believe me when I say it’s not. Life is about learning and growing everyday. Life is not about how long you live, it’s about how well you live.

This might sound odd to you but life really is about learning to accept everything just as it is: good, bad, wonderful or awful. Life really doesn’t care how you “feel” about what is occurring to you in time space history. Life is concerned about how you decide to embrace what “is”.

We all have at least two choices in every situation. We can either kick and scream and say it isn’t fair, or we can welcome everything no matter how terrible it is. Yes, welcome the love and the heartache. Yes, welcome the good and the bad with same vigor.

Is it easy? Hell no it ain’t easy. It may very well be the most challenging and difficult thing you have ever done. But that is what is great about life. Not to have all our ‘life shoes’ neatly stacked in alphabetical rows in the closet. But rather to learn to grab the shoes that fit the occasion from the proverbial closet of your mind. Find the right dancing shoes for music that is playing.

So …… get up and start dancing. Life will not wait for you to say “someday Isle” do something. Do it now while you can. As I always tell folks, “ the bus hits someone everyday, and tomorrow it could be you or me”. So c’mon out of the cocoon and live a little.

I hear the music starting ….

Thanks for following us in our lifescapades.

Peace

Captain, Charlotte and JoJo the pretty good dog

Underwater: a brave new world

It's not often you get to do something so totally unusual and interesting that it literally takes your breath away. Well we did just that last week when we were on the tiny island of Roatan, Honduras.

We were invited to join dear friends, Jordan and Rebecca to celebrate Jordan's 40th birthday. He and I became fast friends while running our respective charter businesses down in the US Virgin Islands from 2005-09. We supported and encouraged one another during some tough times. We spent time fixing, cussing, and cleaning our boats and hustling clients for our snorkeling tours.

Jordan and Rebecca both are accomplished divers and were planning on spending most of the week down island under water. We tagged along and planned on snorkeling and relaxing reading while they played under 80' of water.

That all changed when we started talking to their dive master, Ricardo. He encouraged us to take is Discover Scuba Diving class. This is an opportunity to get in "confined" water and learn the very basics of scuba diving. I was a little more than surprise when Charlotte said "let's do it".

I had learned to dive when living in the islands but had not dived in over 5 years. So I thought it would be fun to get reacquainted with it. What transpired over the next few days was amazing.

One of the things you need to know about Charlotte is that she does not like confined spaces, having her face covered with anything, or what she calls 'edges'. Any place you cannot see over a ledge to her is like staring at the scariest monster you can imagine. Diving just happens to involve the following activities: being in a somewhat confined space i.e. being underwater, covering face with a mask and regulator, and staring into an abyss over 2000' deep. Other than those things, Charlotte thought it was a great idea. ;-).

Our instructor was amazing in helping her face her fears and just do it anyway. He focussed on the beauty and awe of sailing underwater while breathing normally. She bought it!

After learning all we needed to keep us alive underwater, we headed out for our open water dive to get our certifications to become official divers. If we could finish the course and pass the exams, we could dive anywhere in the world. Wow!

Things started a bit rough when we stepped off the dive boat into the Caribbean Sea. Charlotte had passed the first couple of training tests with our instructor with flying colors. But this was the ocean and full of creatures that can eat you including great white sharks and eels and coral that can burn your skin instantly! No small task to overcome internal self talk telling you that you have lost your f-ing mind. But we did it.

She had trouble clearing her ears at first and had that look of sheer panic on her face. But Ricardo took her in his care and calmed her fear enough to dive into 20' of ocean water. When we reached the sandy bottom we both succeeded in passing the physical tasks we needed to start our "real dive".

Once we got the OK sign  and firm handshakes from Ricardo we swam off into our first diving adventure in the open sea. Believe me, this is WAY different than the confined water area that had a nice gazebo in the middle we could swim to whenever we wanted. Nothing separated us from 2000' feet of dark purple water that led to the abyss. But we both started relaxing and resumed "normal" breathing patterns as we began to explore a part of the world that we know less about than we do the surface of the moon. Amazing.

We swam around the corner of the reef and before us was a wonderland of beauty that is difficult to explain with mere words. It is exotic, intoxicating, frightening, and enlightening all at the same time. it's like being IN the aquarium looking out. We saw all sorts of amazing beautiful fish including Queen Angel fish that were at least 18" tall.

As we continued along the reef we gradually descended to fifty feet below the surface of the water. It was as if we were flying. The gentle current carried us along on a tour that was nothing short of incredible. We saw a Moray Eel that was at least 4 feet long just gliding along the bottom. It turned to look at Charlotte and she quickly put our dive master between her and the eel. It's rows of razor sharp showing as it "smiled" at her. Then we saw a very large Lion Fish with it's wings spread open as if to say "don't come any closer".

After 40 minutes that seemed like 5 we began our gradual ascent to reality. We stopped at 15' for our mandatory 3 minute stop to allow our bodies to adjust to life above the surface. When we surfaced Charlotte had the most incredible smile. She said "that was so cool, I'm hooked". So it looks like diving will become another activity we can share together.

When the boat returned to the dock we shared high fives with other divers that knew we were on our check out dive. They welcomed us with open arms into a fraternity of folks that called the underworld home.

Upon reflection it was one of the greatest days of my life. Watching the love of my life step into her fears and do it anyway filled my heart with such great joy. I have tears in my eyes as I type this blog three days later. She is by far the most courageous woman I have ever known. She inspires me to do more, be more, and love more. What more could a man ask for?

Thanks for sharing our journey!!!

Capt, Ms Charlotte, and Jojo the pretty good dog