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Mustique - Day 9 - 8th Blog - The One That Didn't Get Away



Nov. 29, 2016

Dawn came none too soon for Anders and Carol, whose 3-6 a.m. watch was the ultimate bore. Wind, almost nonexistent. The mainsail continually filling and collapsing, sounding like an angry whip in the night. Steering a challenge, with so little forward motion.

At 6 a.m., Stefan emerged in the companionway, his face barely illumined by the soft pinks and blues arising in the east. Always the gracious host, he offered coffee or tea and went to the galley for preparations.

Soon thereafter, David climbed up top, still wearing his plaid onesie. (In truth, they were pyjamas, but Stef insisted that I call it a onesie, probably because he still carries a bit of a grudge after the big one got away yesterday.) Anyway, David immediately headed to the fishing pole on the aft deck, exuding a spirit of carpe diem. A huge fish may have gotten away yesterday, but that was then. It was a new day.

Once the lure was dropped and the pole secured, David had just sat down when all heard the unmistakable whirring of the fishing line running out. David grabbed the pole and Stefan pulled in the line hand over hand. Liv joined the spectators on deck. Since she just turned 13, it only made sense that she was the one assigned to go to the galley to retrieve a very sharp knife. As usual, she remained poised and calm. Yuki watched with great curiosity after stationing herself next to Anders, her third favorite boyfriend on board, ranking only after Stef and Fin. She is a bit young for Anders, but carpe diem!

Within a few minutes, a shining silver tuna was pulled on deck as Stefan’s fierce gutteral growling emerged from a place deep within. With his classic male-model good looks and ability to bare his teeth and exude a maniacal persona, Stef may well have a future career in horror films. But that’s for another day. On deck, he took the knife and went in for the kill. David, the epitome of a kind, mild-mannered British gentleman, also got in touch with his inner animal and augmented with several stabs of his own.

Beautiful red tuna filets were carved and brought to the galley fridge, where they were prepared sushi-style for lunch: quickly fired on the outside with a coating of sesame seeds, left moist and ruby red inside, sliced and served with soy sauce, wasabi,and pickled ginger.

Thoughts from the delighted diners:
Stef: “The freshest tuna ever, prepared by the best chef on the high seas.”
David: “Melts in your mouth.”
Tom: “The best tuna ever.”
Mark: “You had to catch one tuna or later.”
Liv: “Extremely good. And that’s from a person who doesn’t even like fish.”
Anders: “I have eaten tuna worldwide, including in the best restaurants in Japan. This was by far the most delicious ever — self caught and eaten in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Unbelievable.”
Carol: “If I’m ever on death row, I’d like that to be my last meal.”

And so it goes with life on Mustique. Sometimes the wind blows, sometimes it doesn’t. We sleep, we eat, we talk, we listen to music or Mark’s abundant stories, we enjoy quiet reverie, we admire Yuki, and we breathe the fresh ocean air.

Life is good, and I, for one, am filled with gratitude. — Carol


PS to James: Your dad wants to know if you liked your birthday present.




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