Bump, Bump, Bump in the Night - Part I

Children on land think they have things to worry about when they hear a bump in the night. They fear that strange creak from the floor, or scratching on the window. It is quite a different thing, and I must say, more terrifying to hear and feel a bump in the night at sea.

Most of the time, these bumps, creaks and scratches are completely harmless on land. The wind blows bush branches against a window. The house settles at night and groans a bit. A sister in the next room shifts in bed and bumps her elbow on the wall. But a bumping in the night at sea is something else.

I was seven years old on the Horizon with my parents, drifting in the South Pacific on a warm, calm night. The waning moon was high and surrounded by stars as far as I could see. The stars arced over our boat like the underside of an umbrella. If you stood while looking up for too long, you would become dizzy, losing all depth perception and feel like the stars are touching your nose. But those stars had an end. They ended where the sea began and at that point it was black.

“Indigo, you’ve been up there long enough,” Mother said from below deck. “It’s time for bed.” 

I did not respond right away. When I turned from the ship’s bow to leave, I felt a distinct bump along the side of the boat. It startled me since it had been so quiet and still moments before. I held onto the lifeline of the ship and peered over the boat’s edge. The water fluttered and there was a bump again.

Artwork courtesy of Jochabel Reese - Copyright 2016

A child knows what fear feels like when their skin becomes all prickly, and their heart and the pulse in their limbs become noticeably rhythmic. I felt fear then.

“Indigo, come down here for bed right now,” Mother called again. Her voice snapped me out of my trance. I hustled to the cabin portal and went in, closing and locking the hatch behind me as was usually done at bedtime.

“Sorry Mother, I think I saw something in the water,” I said.

“There’s plenty of somethings in the water, Indigo,” Mother said. “The waters are full of life and mystery.”

“I know,” I responded nervously. “I just wish I knew more about those mysteries, sometimes.”

“In time, all mysteries will become known to the world and there will be nothing left to wonder about,” Mother said.

I didn’t quite understand what she meant. I only nodded my head and began to scoot under my covers. She kissed my forehead and went to her bunk with Father. We all drifted into sleep like the boat lazily drifted on those calm waters. 

Bump! 

I immediately awoke and sat up in my bunk nearly hitting my head on the low ceiling. 

Bump! 

Again I felt the vibration of a distinct thump against the side of the boat right where I was in bed. Then there was nothing, for a moment. I looked toward my parents in the glow of the dim cabin night light, and they were sound asleep. It was nearly silent, for all I could hear was their calm breathing.

I mustered some courage, or maybe it was curiosity and rested my ear against the wall of the boat. I could hear a swooshing sound and then a strange echo. I began concentrating my ear on that echo which began to sound like a voice.

“I know you are in there,” the voice uttered. “I know what you taste like.”

My heart was pounding and my breath shuddered in and out. I was frozen with my head against the cabin wall.

“You both will be my meal someday. I will drag you into the darkness and fill my gut with you.”

I suddenly screamed and cried. My parents woke and rushed to me. I told them what happened and they insisted that it must be a bad dream, a really lifelike, terrible dream. I forcefully argued back and sobbed. They held me until I calmed down and I slept in their bunk. We were crammed together like a can of sardines, but I felt safer.

Reflections



Born at Sea

It is not uncommon for people to ask where a person is from when they are trying to get to know them. It is usually polite to give a short answer which helps move the conversation along, making room for other questions to be asked and answered. When folks ask where I am from, I tend to get plenty of follow-up questions. So, I think it is about time for me to share my origin story.

The short answer is that I was born at sea, more specifically and most likely the Coral Sea. However, we were on course between then New Herbrides (now Vanuatu) and the Solomon Islands where the Coral Sea meets the South Pacific Ocean. So there is a small chance I was born at ocean instead.

Now for the slightly longer story, which I promise it is worth reading, because I am sure you are already wondering how an infant was born at sea.

Indigo C. Beacon - Copyright 2014

My parents owned a fishing boat called the Horizon. While on the Horizon my parents were not only expert fishers, they were also true explorers, amateur scientists, and most importantly dedicated parents. 
  

It was November, 1979, and my parents and our small crew (Sydney, Walter and Javier) were traveling from the island Espiritu Santo of New Herbrides back to the Solomon Islands where they had a hut in a village near Honaira. They intended to stay there for a while when I arrived.

Photo courtesy of Michael Alford - All Rights Reserved

My father is Vale. His name means "brave" in Latin. My mother is Yara. Her name means "water lady" in Portuguese. Name meanings are important in my family as we feel a name really does describe and adds to who we are.

My parents did not want to chose a name for me before I was born. They had no way of knowing what I would be. They wanted to see what name fit me once I entered the world.

As our crew made their way back to Honaira to prepare for my arrival, Nature had other plans. We ran into a storm, early for typhoon season, that threw the Horizon completely off course. The rain struck from all sides and it was hard to tell what was ocean and what was sky. Mother couldn’t bear the intensity of the storm and the ship seemed like it would sink. Mother went into labor as the storm continued.

Then, Nature changed it's cruel tone. The storm began to dwindle and the ocean waves retreated. My brave father, mother and loyal crew helped bring me into this world just as the sun peeked from behind a heavy cloud as if wanting to witness my birth.

I was born but silent. My parents said I was as blue as the ocean. My father tried reviving me but I was limp. In a sheer moment of panic and desperation he held me by my ankles with one strong hand and dipped me headfirst into the salty ocean. He quickly pulled me out. He felt my body flinch in his hand and he dipped me in the water again. When he pulled me from the water the second time, I let out a cry that drowned out the squawking sea birds. My parents and the crew felt a rush of relief as Father passed me to Mother and she held me on her chest, trying to keep me warm.

Nothing and no one was dry for hours. When my father dunked me in the ocean, the blood and residue from my birth washed off which then attracted several hungry sharks who circled the boat, bumping it with their noses in frustration. My skin had turned from blue to a warm pink color. Mother and I were onto a healthy recovery despite our dangerous circumstances.

The Horizon's motor and mast were damaged in the storm but luckily we were only stranded at sea for two days. Our radio transmitter and navigation instruments worked. My family had a waterproof emergency kit on board to aid us. The kit contained two blankets, clean water, and canned food with an opener--very important. We also had some long oars stored along the inside edges of the boat.

After a few calculations, my father and the crew took turns rowing the boat where they anticipated a cluster of islands to be. Mother tended to my needs and used the the radio transmitter from time to time in hope of being found. Our S.O.S. was intercepted by a commercial fishing vessel named Phoebus and it came to our rescue.

By the time we boarded the Phoebus my parents were certain the most fitting name for me was Indigo, and here I am today as Indigo C. Beacon. In due time I will divulge what name belongs to the initial C. Until then, remember I have just revealed my first big adventure upon entering this world and I have had many other strange, mysterious and fantastic adventures I will be sharing soon.

Mishap in the Mangroves

I came home to a cold, wet winter in January; typical for Chicago. It was quite dismal this time. I sat sulking, looking out my window too often, and wishing my mangled ankle would heal a bit faster, so I could voyage again.

Forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself. That's how it happened too. I was ahead of myself when I injured my left ankle while sloshing through the Florida wetlands. I was in a shallow wet spot in a thick patch of red mangroves while following a bald eagle in the sky. Bald Eagles are majestic creatures and I hoped to interview one on this trip.



Artwork courtesy of Jochabel Reese - Copyright 2015

Instead, I had an eerie feeling that I was being followed by something and turned just in time to see a water moccasin ready to strike.

Adrenaline shot through my limbs and I jumped backward, catching my foot between the twisted roots of a red mangrove. I fell, splashing into the murky water. Pain instantly surged through my leg. Had I been bitten? I could not tell.

The stocky snake looked sharply into my eyes and lunged again. I instantly hit him on the snout with my binoculars.

He coiled back hissing and said, "You nassty sstranger, why did you attack me?"

I shuddered and yelled, "I will not tolerate being poisoned by your bite! I did not threaten you in the first place."

I hoped my warning was clear enough, because all I could do was try to intimidate him at that moment. I was caught in a natural trap and one caused by my own foolishness.

One of the first rules of exploration is to observe your surroundings and then proceed. Instead, I had been proceeding with my eyes fixed on the sky without observing what was right around me.

Suddenly, the bald eagle I was tracking swooped down from the sky and grabbed that water moccasin with her sharp talons and screeched that I should run. Glancing at my trapped foot, I knew I could not run. I could not move my ankle and my flesh was torn and bleeding against the exposed mangrove roots that were drying in sun above the tide.

Now, in case you didn't know, I like pickles. But I prefer to eat pickles rather than be in a pickle. In this case, I was in a pickle and feeling like a pickle as I sat in the briny waters with my throbbing leg. Luckily, I had not been bitten by that horrid snake, but the sting from my injury felt like a snake bite.

My canoe was only a few meters away, but it seemed so far at the moment. I pulled a sharp knife from my soggy back pack and began sawing through the leathery mangrove stilt roots around my trapped foot.

At last I was free and I held my leg above the water against another exposed root as I pulled a handkerchief from my breast pocket, tying it tightly around the wound. I knew I needed to get out of that spot quickly or I would be bait for another, larger predator; the crocodile.

I already sensed that I was being watched again by some hidden creature and knew I needed to move faster.



Indigo C. Beacon - Copyright 2015

While listening and watching more closely to my surroundings, I carefully made my way back to the canoe and climbed in. The sun beat down on my sandy skin and a light breeze tickled my ears as I caught my breath and headed back to civilization.

I caught a taxi and went to the closest emergency room. Fortunately I did not brake my ankle, but it was badly sprained and cut in several places requiring 30 stitches. I was prescribed a strong antibiotic and instructed to keep my wounds clean.

Thus my wetlands voyage was cut short and I abjectly flew back to Chicago, feeling as dismal as the slushy weather here. In spite of my injury I enjoyed winter in the wetlands. You see, wetland winters are dryer, if you can say dry in Florida. It is simply a time when water levels are lower and there is less rain fall.

I know what you are thinking; another rule of exploration is not to go on adventures alone. You are right. If one of my friends or a more skilled Everglades traveler had been with me, the snake might have attacked him instead and left me alone. Then I still would have whacked the snake on the snout, dragged my companion back to the canoe, and heroically brought us to safety.

Fine, that may not have been the outcome either, but I can still imagine can't I? At least I lived another day and had another story to tell. As my trusted readers, I encourage you to enjoy my adventures but definitely learn from my actions and become wiser explorers yourselves.

Water Wings

We all have hopes and dreams. These things make us learn, grow, and become stronger in our own different ways. Along with our hopes and dreams, we must accept that we have different talents, abilities, and even disabilities that shape who we are and what we can do. This was a lesson learned and a lesson taught by a little fairy in a fairy clan on the sunny banks of cool lake.

Artwork courtesy of Jochabel Reese - Copyright 2014

There’s nothing more important to the fairies than their wings. Fairies need their wings to travel about quickly and escape from danger. Their wings help them rise above the ground and see the best routes to find food and other things for their homes and families. They can quickly fly away from grumpy badgers or bobcats who may want to crush them with their strong paws.

 All was well for this little fairy clan and especially for two fairies who were expecting their first baby. The day finally arrived and Maven was scared and excited to bring her new child into the world. Eilon tried to carefully tend to his wife’s needs as the nurse gave him orders. He was nervous and clumsy as he brought water and cloths.

When Maven and Eilon heard their baby’s first cry, they were so glad to see their little one’s beautiful face. But as the nurse turned their child over to clean her body, their faces fell. Her wings were not formed as a fairy baby’s wings should be. Although wings do grow larger with time, her forewings were clearly deformed and did not match the beauty of her hindwings.

“Oh dear,” said the nurse, “she’s a beautiful babe, but she will never fly. I’m sorry.” The nurse handed the baby to Maven. The nurse left the room to give the small family some peace.

Maven held her baby and cried as Eilon leaned down quietly and placed his large hand on the baby. “She is beautiful,” he whispered. “Her body may be delicate, but I feel that she has a strong spirit. We will name her Ersilia.”

Ersilia grew; her hair wavy brown, her eyes bright and green. She was slender and a bit shorter than the other fairies her age. Then there were her wings. Her hindwings grew to a lovely length. They were sharp and nearly transparent. Her forewings remained small, gnarled and curled against her back. The nurse was right—Ersilia will never fly.

Ersilia had few friends. Many of the fairies were too impatient to wait for her when they wanted to fly off and explore the nearby woods and meadows. Ersilia simply took too long getting around on foot. She often watched the others take to the sky as she stood alone in the tall grass.

Do not be mistaken, Ersilia experienced flight before—sort of. There were times when her parents would hold her hands between them and pull her into the air, but it was easier when she was smaller. She always loved doing that with her parents. Now that she was older, it was more difficult to lift her from the ground and they could only do it for short distances.

Since Ersilia could not travel far, she enjoyed going down to the lake. She loved the feeling of her feet sinking in the wet sand on the lake’s edge. Fairies only gathered water to drink and wash. They were careful not to wet their wings too much because wet wings cannot fly and most fairies do not like being grounded for long.

Maven warned Ersilia to stay close to shore because a deep lake was no place for any fairy. But Ersilia did not care if her wings were wet. Ersilia watched the ducks paddle around and tip headfirst into the water, shaking their tails in the air. They seemed to enjoy themselves.

Ersilia slowly walked down the shore into the water as she had many times before. This time she walked deeper and deeper into the water. She decided to hold her breath like the ducks and dip under the water. She got on her knees and submerged herself.

She found she could glide like the ducks using her hands, feet, and wings like fins to steer around. She practiced for days in a shallow area near the bank. She enjoyed just floating on her back while the sun warmed her wet skin.

She stood back up in her shallow pool with the water at her shoulders and felt she was ready to go further into the lake. She began to glide forward with her arms and feet, and she flexed her lower wings to give her more speed.

No sooner had she ventured away from the shore, that she noticed a large, dark figure below her. Before she could change directions, she was snatched up in the mouth of a great fish. As she was swallowed, Ersilia’s leg was cut on one of the fish’s sharp teeth and began to bleed.

The hungry fish thought she looked like a good meal until he tasted the bitter blood and felt ill. He spit Ersilia out as fast as he had swallowed her and swam away to warn the other fish not to snap at her kind. Fairy blood keeps all fairies safe from being eaten, at least by creatures who know a fairy’s blood is bitter and poisonous. Ersilia was the first fairy to ever venture into a body of water.

Ersilia swam to shore and limped home. Maven and Eilon were shocked at what happened. Maven cleaned and bandaged Ersilia’s leg and stressed how she should never try that adventure again. Ersilia insisted that no great harm was done.

“I love the water, Mama,” Ersilia explained. “It is where I feel free like other fairies do when they fly, and that fish learned his lesson not to eat fairies.”

“But that won’t protect you if he decides to take revenge and drown you with his fins!” Maven said firmly.

“I am in just as much danger on land than in the water,” Ersilia replied. “I cannot fly away from a wild cat or a snake in the bushes. Most animals have lived well alongside us once we get to know each other,” Ersilia paused looking at her parents. “Mama, Papa, I was born crippled and I cannot change it, but I can change how I live with misshapen wings and enjoy my life.”

Maven’s face began to redden and her wings twitched as she was about to respond, but Eilon stepped toward his wife and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He said, “Maven—All parents must let their fairies fly someday. It is time for us to let Ersilia fly in her own way. If the water is her sky, then let her fly.”

Maven looked into Ersilia’s eyes and reached up to Eilon’s hands. Maven cried as his words became clear to her. “Ersilia, it scares me that you want to venture in the water,” Maven paused and took a deep breath. “But we won’t hold you back. It will make you stronger as flight does for us.”

Ersilia lit up with excitement and hugged her parents. They all cried and expressed their love for each other. She thanked them for understanding.

It took several days for Ersilia’s leg to heal, but no lasting damage was made and as soon as the scabbing had gone, she was ready to face the water again.

Word spread through the fairy village of Ersilia’s adventure and this time she was not alone when she returned to the lake’s edge. Some fairies scoffed and whispered criticisms under their breath as they hovered nearby. Others were amazed at what Ersilia was about to do, and they cheered her on.

Ersilia ignored the audible mocking and smiled at the encouragement. Her parents stood on the shore. They were nervous for her but were also curious to see how she swam in the water.

Ersilia stepped off the shore and sunk her toes into the soft, cool sand.  She smiled as she waded further into the water and her wings twitched. She took a deep breath and dove into the water.

The fairies gasped as Ersilia disappeared into the dark waters. Moments later she bobbed her head out of the lake quite a distance from the shore and waved her hand in the air. The fairies were amazed and took flight over the lake, circling above and cheering loudly.

After that day on the lake, Ersilia was not alone. Some fairies wished to brave the waters and asked Ersilia to teach them how to swim. Other fairies apologized for their harsh judgments.

Ersilia was a brave, beautiful, and confident fairy in spite of her physical limitations. Some of her hopes and dreams came true and she was content with that. She fell in love and was married to a strong, hard-working fairy, and he loved her entirely. They had three children; two of which had their own pairs of water wings, but that did not matter. They all grew and developed their own talents and were taught to be positive and find joy no matter what.

Secret Summer Spot

It should be no surprise that I love water. I was born on the water. I have spent much of my life on or near great bodies of water. There is something about the Great Lakes near my home, north of Chicago and the open ocean which bring me comfort and solace.

Artwork courtesy of Jochabel Reese - Copyright 2001

It is not just about being able to hear the waves lapping on the shore or the seabirds chattering. I can hear the waters whispering, whispering, whispering to me their stories from their depths. They are beautiful stories. If you wish to know them, I will tell you.


But before I share any stories from the whispering waters, I must say that one of my favorite secret spots is along the banks of Lake Michigan in the fruit belt. I enjoy sailing across the lake from Illinois to the Michigan shore and rest under a lone, gnarled and massive oak tree among the Lakeside Daisies. That white oak tree was just a baby during WWI. She stands strong and tall like a guardian overlooking the lake. She has stories to tell too since she has been around for over a century.

I love to breathe in the fresh air, and feel the wind touch my skin. The wind fights to cool me as the sun tries to keep me warm. I love lying under the branches of my giant friend and reflect on past memories. I also love to imagine new places, creatures, and things I have yet to discover and write about.

You should go with me some time.