Rum Party on the Island
After being awake for almost 24 hours and enduring a grueling night of freezing cold temps and heavy dewy fog the short nap felt great!! That sweet bliss ended with the deafening thud of Dave’s hiking boots hitting the deck and his yelling it was time to get up. He banged around and bellowed as he tore apart the boat digging through various storage areas down below in the salon pulling out assorted boxes and bags as he went. I did my best to ignore the calamity as boxes flew by my head and out into the cockpit. I raised my obviously perturbed head from the quarter berth I was wedged into to inform him there was nothing short of a boat He threw the last bit of booty out the door and paused long enough to tell me this was better than a boat fire, it was time for the daily Pussers Rum Party and attendance by the Captain is mandatory! Damn it, he had me! As he noisily hauled the cases of rum, cups and mix onto the dock and headed for shore I crawled out of the berth and got dressed muttering half awake about making people walk the plank or some such stuff. I could hear the V berth come to life with whispering between Darren and Lisa. I called out that it was time to start drinking, all pirates on deck. Darren laughed and echoed my earlier sentiment that nothing I could say that would get him out of bed. Knowing Darren for years has allowed me to know his core weakness… I paused for a minute to let him revel in his stubbornness before calmly mentioning “that’s too bad, I bet there will be some good camera shots for the show of all the boaters coming together over a few gallons of rum… A couple of seconds passed before I heard him mutter to Lisa “damn it, he’s right honey. I need to get up”. Hehehe, checkmate! I scavenged up a few pieces of clothing sporting the Magazine’s logo, grabbed my leather pirate’s hat and the conch shell and crawled out into the cockpit thinking bacon and eggs would make a much better start of the day but rum will work just fine.
As Suzanne poured me a drink I announced that before the party was officially started we had to have the traditional “blowing of the conch”. I raised the massive shell to my lips as Darren fired up the video camera and I blew my heart out. The sound echoed across the water and everyone cheered and raised their glasses in a toast to living our dreams. I enjoyed my Painkiller breakfast basking in the sun while everyone took turns blowing the Somewhere around this time a Ranger came down the steep hill to tell us to stop blowing the shell and to please be quiet because the people in their “leaves of the island” lecture were looking out the window wanting to party rather than watch the old 16mm science film clicking away on the pull down screen in front of them like a bad high school biology class memory. We apologized and promised to tone it down… We were well intentioned but a drink or two later found us staring at a Ranger hat again! Now he was concerned that we were being too loud for the other boaters on their boats. We all looked around then pointed out that all the boaters were there with a rum in their hand… We then appropriately kissed his ass and promised to do better this time. If there is one defining effect rum has on a group of people, it’s NOT keeping you quiet! We talked in hushed tones for about a drink or so before the evil Mr Rum took over and the roar of everyone's laughter was building once more. Within fifteen minutes we were again looking at a small flock of rangers who told us all to wait right there before they all reported back to the main building. 5 minutes later they all came marching back down in street clothes and said “oh hell with it, pour me a drink and let me blow that damn shell”…
We finally put together some solid food for dinner and although I can’t remember what it was I’m sure we ate it as fast as it came off the stove. Before we called it an early evening to get some real sleep I went over the charts and double checked them with the Richardsons cruising guide’s maps deciding on our next day’s destination and route, marking all the reefs in highlighter that we will be going around or through and making note of all the tips the Rangers had given me about where we were going. If all went right we would spend the next night anchored in Hay Bay. A secluded little notch in the rocky island guarded by multiple reefs and obstacles that would prove to be an adventure all by itself. As I crawled into bed after checking the dock lines the NOAA Weather Radio broadcast on the ship to shore was calling for light winds and heavy fog for the next few days…
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fire that was getting me out of that bed… 
As I staggered up to the pavilion at the end of the dock looking like a man that needs alot more sleep, I was right on time. Dave had finished mixing the potent concoction in the big orange NFL size Gatorade barrel and there was already a few hardy pirates standing around critiquing the Painkillers recipe. Dave doesn’t fool around, there was fresh nutmeg and a grinder to add the nuts as the topping. Before this trip was over I drank a lifetime of Painkillers. It’s an earthy tasting drink that was interesting, although I have never since been tempted to go to a bar and order one they weren’t too bad.
conch shell. Fun was being had by all as people slowly emerged from the handful of boats dock in front of the pavilion to accept our invitation to come for cocktails and join the fun. Soon we had a small crowd under the shelter drinking and laughing. 
Once we managed to empty the barrel of rum the rest of the afternoon was a mellow blur of goofing off while visiting and touring the other boats. I did get to board my first 