Jellyfish vodka

We were about an hour into an excellent reef dive today, Jon and Kai were hunting off the shelf and Hunter and I were bobbing around the ledges trying to find a small turtle who had zoomed by us several times. He was a very sneaky turtle. 

There were plenty of rainbow Blennies and tiny spotted pufferfish hiding in the coral but the turtle was a champ at hide and seek.

The current was strong and I was just beginning to wonder about how tired Miss H. must be getting about now, when I heard her screaming through her snorkel. 

We usually swim together, holding hands,  diving the shallower ledges. When we see something deeper, that we want to investigate, we call one of our boys to tow us down. Jon and Kai wear weight belts for deeper exploring and spearfishing, wetsuits are too buoyant to get very far without assistance.

Hunter had slipped from my side to swim around a large rock and see if thats where turtle was hiding, but now, unable to see her, I could only hear her frightened squeals and cries. 

Jon must have psychically heard the distress of his girl from the bottom of the sea because by the time I got around the rock to her, he and Kai were right behind me.

'What"s wrong?" We three, cried, in unison.

There was no obvious danger, no shark or eel or stingray but H. was clutching at her neck. 

" My throat hurts!" yowled Hunter.

We collectively breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired and the crash was upon us.

"low blood sugar" I whispered to Jon.

" poor muffin" said daddy, trying to calm her. "mommy will swim you back to the dingy"

" my neck!" screamed Hunter, her face turning dark as she clutched at the neck of her wetsuit.

I brushed the tangle of blond hair aside and looked more closely. Huge red welts were forming on her soft little neck. 

" Jellyfish" I mouthed to Jon so as not to alram her.

Of course ,Hunter heard me and she began crying in earnest and gagging on salt water.

The current was with us and we were back to the dingy in no time. Hunter peeled off her wet suit and her neck looked like it was on fire.

" Don't worry, honey" I said. " Mommy knows how to fix this." 

I used the casual and capable-of dealing with anything voice I use when I am alarmed but want to appear not so.

'You do? " sniffed Hunter. Hot fat tears streamed down her sunburned cheeks.

I did not actually KNOW how to fix my darling child screaming in pain but I had a PLAN-which is second best in cases of emergency.

" Of course". I  smiled reassuringly, fished around in the dingy-locker and pulled out a bottle of... Vodka.

Hunter, understandably, eyed me rather skeptically at this point.

"This stuff fixes everything" I told her.

Amazingly, the vodka in this story was not actually for me. 

Before Jon and I jumped on the wagon last month, we managed to polish off what tequila we had aboard but couldn't quite muster the half bottle of vodka. In order to avert the inevitable temptation of a nice cold screwdriver two weeks into our cleanse, ( it's half juice, right?) i had stashed the vodka in the dingy. 

Just to be clear -we are not such lushes that this radical step was the ONLY way we could restrain ourselves from hitting the sauce. Well, maybe that was part of it ( we do live on a boat with two children) but  the real reason I put the Vodka it in the tiny, water-tight locker in our inflatable dingy was because I had been told to carry it at all times by my lovely South African friend Joan, who, herself had sailed the world with husband and three small children.  

"Vodka is the best cure in the world for venomous bites".  she told me in her charming, lilting accent.

"alcohol nuetralizes the acid straight away...just make sure it's a good proof". 

Joan had counseled me, over big frothy lattes, one bitter cold and snowy day last winter. We sat together, in the cosy cafe she owns on Bowen Island and she gave me tips on countless matters having to do with boats and children and big hairy adventures.

I had listened carefully, taking copious notes about everything from provisioning to dealing with...well...venomous stings.

The wind howled and rattled the windows, in far off Canada and the potential-poison-jellyfish-day had seemed a million miles away but now, here I was, on this rocky reef in the middle of nowhere with my  shocked and shivering daughter waiting for me to fix her.

I looked down at the un-pronouncable Russian Vodka I clutched in my hand and couldn't see what the proof was. It had cost us a fortune in Cabo-so I was hoping it was the good stuff.

The livid streaks on Hunter's neck were swelling and I worried about alergic reaction to venom on so small a person.

'Hold still, sweetheart, everything's going to be fine" i said cheerily, praying it would be, while dousing her neck in capful after capful.

Hunter squeezed her eyes tight, trying her best-brave wee thing.

Several moments later, she stopped squirming and her breathing calmed down.

"How's that?" I said,  holding her and stroking her hair.

She open one rascally eye and looked up at me. 

"I smell like a booze-can". she said in her raspy voice.

I did wonder how she picked up the term, "booze can" but I didn't care. 

She was laughing and seemed totally fine - just as Joan said she would be.

So, I just wanted to say, three weeks into my meditation cleanse-

Thank you, God. Thank You, Joan and...Thank you, Vodka- I still love you.

Sierra de la Giaganta

brotherly love

cockles

tide pools of Los Gatos

Buying lobster