Issuu on Google+


Last night was one to remember, I think to myself as I sit shivering in the saloon. It all began at around 4:00AM, when I was rudely awoken by the skipper, Marcus, bashing on the crew quarters. “Dinghy kecil, Dinghy kecil” he’s screaming. My Bahasa is limited, but I quickly put the pieces together. Somehow, the crew forgot to tie off the small dinghy before going to bed, and now it’s gone. The search light doesn’t work so we were forced to use a flashlight fit for checking the backyard shed for spiders. Enter 35kt winds, open water, and torrential rain. Two hours later, Donny, Chief Deckhand, spots the dinghy up ahead rocking in the breakwater of a nearby island. We take our surfboards across the strait that separates us from the beach and find our dinghy sitting on probably the only patch of sand on the whole island, still full of air. We bail the boat and drag it out through the shore break. Donny jumps in, pulls the cordvroom! She roars to life. Marcus, visibly pissed off, doesn’t say a lot but makes sure we are both ok. He asks Donny if the boats are secured then its full throttle out of there. A guest on the boat who has been snoozing on the top deck, leaps to his feet yelling “small dinghy, small dinghy, stop the boat” We all jump up and race out the back to see the poor girl floating on the edge of the Pacific about 500 metres behind us. Marcus can’t believe his eyes. “WHERE THE FUCK IS DONNY,” he bellows. But deckhand is already halfway to it, mortified. As Marcus watches him struggle to bring the dinghy back, he can’t help but chuckle at the stupidity of the last few hours. One of the guests tells us he’s a rigger. “Perfect,” Marcus says, and sentences Donny to 30 minutes a day of boating knots with the rigger for two weeks.

Bali Belly Issue 005