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Adventures of a Modern Pirate: March 2020

Across from us lay a beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean as far as I could see. The ripples lapping the shoreline were crystal clear as if made of liquid glass. I saw through the water, past some fish, and to the sea bed. The air felt thick and fresh, almost tangible. 

“Let’s hope developers don’t kill this island,” I said, unsolicited.

My uncle and Peter glanced at me and nodded their agreement.

“Let’s hope not,” my uncle replied. 

“It would be a travesty,” Peter insisted. 

We had a good buzz going on by the time the food was consumed, the tab paid and beers finished off. It was time to go. We accompanied Peter back to the airport. The customary goodbyes were shared, and Peter promised to pick us up as soon as he could. We watched the big guy disappear inside the terminal and we continued north on Kings Highway, where we would find a salty piece of land to set up camp along the pristine shoreline. I saw only one rooftop along the way and could not believe the isolation and the silence. With the exception of the occasional sea breeze, one could hear a pin drop. 

Kings Highway came to a stop and veered into a sharp left. We continued straight, where we came to a cove of pure white sandy beach and crystalline water. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Postcard perfect and no one but us! It had become routine, and before we knew it, we found a spot where some palm trees were jutting out toward the ocean. Camp was set, and like two happy pirates, we enjoyed our new makeshift home.

Unexpectedly, we heard the thunderous roar of the Albatross and its twin radial engines somewhere behind us and we knew it was taking off. It was an unmistakable sound that never got old. In some small, spiritual way, as a young teenager, I felt connected to the seaplane. To me, it was alive and was happy being part of the adventure. 

We were enjoying the view from under the shade of the trees, when we heard the drone of the engines getting louder and louder. 

“Look,” my uncle said, pointing west.

I spotted the big beauty. She was banking toward us, coming in low as the wings, V-shaped hull, windshield and engines grew larger until it flew over us with a deafening roar. Seconds later, a gust of wind followed, covering our camp with sand. 

Gotta get back to my coconut concoctions . . .

This column is part of an ongoing story of tales from the past that continues each month. Read Josh’s previous columns here:

To read more about Josh’s new novel, click here!

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