Pat Watson

 The Island of Exiles, continued

Naively, I welcome the playful vision, a vision that can’t exist but is here just the same. A tiny, oddly shaped figure takes shape in this miniature jungle of twigs turned to forest and sand creatures turned to mystery beings, whispering to me to rise and follow. Moments later, after giant strides down the sand dune, filling my shoes full of sand, I stand at the water’s edge. A small sailboat, like something you’d use to drift around the harbor on a warm summer day, bobs among the tiny waves. Following the whispered echoes of the voice that comes from the dune and without due caution, I climb into the boat, push away from the shore, put up the sail and glide into the bay with a gentle offshore wind at my back. The whispers of the dune fade to nothing in the wind. I head out into the slightly rippling waters of the bay and relax into the gentle drift. The oranges of the sunset, mixed with the thick purple clouds, look wonderful. Late afternoon lights lights dot the headland.

Small waves lap against the hull and a warm breeze ruffles the sail. For a while this all seems idyllic, the way any good fantasy should. I sit up and see the sun near the horizon along the open sea. The wind picks up and the sail fills out. The boat gains speed and I lean into the rudder to keep the heading true, trying to figure out how to steer back to the shore.

A large swell lifts the stern of the small boat high up its face. Terrified, I see the trough of the wave sucking out over slick and shining rocks. As the boat descends into the exposed rocks, another wave crashes in from the side and, smashing against the rocks to my right, sends a surge of whitewater underneath my free-falling boat. The boat screams as its fracturing hull is torn apart in the maelstrom. The boat and I disappear into the thick churn. In the darkening depths, clouds of foam swirl around me. I push away from the boat, hoping to avoid its spinning and splintering remains while I struggle underwater. My arms and legs are shaken like a rag doll. Holding my breath, I open my eyes and a vague and distorted face leers at me, just out of reach. Scared by the danger and panicked by the face and swimming the best I can, I stroke towards the frothy light above me. I come to the surface out of breath, eyeball deep in sea foam, sucking in saltwater, scared to death and freezing in the frigid sea. The surge pulls back out to sea and I realize I’m between large rocks in a small inlet and it looks like I can reach bare rock and crawl out of the maelstrom. Gasping for each breath, drenched and tumbled by one wave after another, I climb across the wet and slimy rocks, intermittently getting cut up by barnacles and mussels. Eventually, I slip, slide and scratch my way to what I hope is safety.

Bruised, battered, cut, freezing and exhausted, I crawl up on the drier rocks along the cliff and pray to find a way to warm up, dry out and find a way home.

After a while, the pain and numbness fade enough for me to get to my feet and search for some shelter in the dim light. Climbing over the rocks, driftwood and shoreline debris, I make slow but precious progress along the jumbled shore. The sun has long since set and intermittent moonlight peaks through the streaming, swirling clouds. I can’t see well enough to go on and sensing more danger out there in the darkness and in the shadows within the darkness, I try to find shelter. Near me is an enormous boulder, severed and dumped from the dark tower of granite high above. There’s a narrow opening between the boulder and the cliff face and I squeeze in, finding shelter from the wind and the stinging salt spray. In the distance, I hear the chaos of the surging sea among the unbowed rocks. I squeeze my way into the small space, curl myself into a ball and wrapping my soggy, hooded sweatshirt around me, I sleep a little and otherwise shake with cold and fear through the night. The vision of the underwater face haunts me, lingering in memory as exhaustion offers me some moments of sleep.

At dawn, I’m no longer freezing, just uncomfortably cold. My clothes are damp but no longer soggy. I crawl back to the entrance and find it plugged by a massive pile of seaweed. I try to pull handfuls of the slimy mass into the cave to make a path through it and soon realize that I’ll fill the cave with seaweed before I clear enough of it to get out. I turn myself in the opposite direction to find out how far the sliver of space stays open, in the hope of escaping through the other end. When I stand, I have to turn sideways, as the space is too narrow for my shoulders. I slowly shuffle my way along this gap, towards what I hope might be another opening at the other end.

Eventually I can see some light but the passage is getting narrower and pushing through to the other end seems unlikely. No, impossible. Even squeezing out my breath to make my chest smaller, it’s too tight. I don’t dare go farther. If I get stuck here, I’m doomed.

Turning my head around, I begin the slow creep back to where I started, where I’ll have to deal with the ton of seaweed that blocks my exit. By this time, the morning light is bright enough to add definition to the rock walls that hold me. As I wriggle my way back, I see a jagged opening in the wall opposite me. From it, I can feel warmer air and I think I hear whispers in its shadows. It’s wider than where I am now and it seems like the best available option for escape. It’s a dimly lit hope and eventually leads to the next chapter of this already fantastical tale.

The slim passage is dark and difficult. The rocks are loose and uneven. I push my hands against the damp walls to stay upright but it remains passable and I keep going. To go back seems like a lost cause. The sound of the crashing sea fades. I smell flowers and trees. I inch ahead and find another crease in the rock wall, a passage too narrow to try but in its darkness, where it gets too small, I think I see another twisted face and a lump forms in my throat. I keep following the light and the warmer air. I know these faces aren’t real but I see them and I can’t forget them. I keep going and try to forget the face in the darkness. After a number of zig-zags, the passage gets wider and I can see light. To my great relief, I eventually find myself standing at the exit, in morning light and an unbelievable panorama expands before me. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, a lush garden and forest opens up in front of my unbelieving eyes.

Chilled, damp, bruised, cut, quaking in my shoes and amazed, I stand at the threshold of the unbelievable… but here it is. For the time being, I set aside all the fears and pains, large and small, and stand in the warmth of the morning light. I lean against the warm rock wall, close my eyes and thaw out. Figuring out the mystery of all this can wait for a few more moments. I slip to my knees, find a seat, lean sideways just a bit, rest my head against the rock wall and drift off into sleep.. Continued….