Bait & Hook

23. Of Human Touch

Roxy returned from below, a smile on her face as she sat and nestled into me, sighing a quiet hum, causing me to tremble. Oh, my! So much more comfortable with the idea of us than I had hoped. Seems she needs human touch, as well. Of course, why would she not?

After a short silence, assessing my next step, I asked, "Do you wish to look at more photos, or have you seen enough?"

"That'll keep me from begging for more." She chuckled. "Beam me back to Patagonia, Captain."

I laughed and picked up my phone to continue from where we had left off, and a few swipes later, I said, "This was our first anchorage in Tierra del Fuego – Brecknock, one of my favourites."

"Oh, wow! So tight that you needed two stern lines."

"And two bow lines."

"Umm, I see those, now. Why so many?"

"Both bow anchors were down, as well. We had entered the area of williwaws."

"Williwaws? What's that?"

"What they call violent katabatic winds down there. Sudden blasts descending from a mountainous coast to the sea." I turned and pointed up Howe Sound. "They're similar to the squamishes we have here and to the outflow winds you would have experienced along the Alaskan Panhandle."

"Oh, those. Heard lots of tales about them, but I never got caught."

"Lucky. In Tierra del Fuego, they often exceed a hundred and twenty knots, the strength of category-five hurricanes."

"Were you ever caught by one?"

"Yes, twice. Once here in Brecknock, and then later in Caleta Olla, along Beagle Channel."

"Damaged?"

"No, not in the least. See all the vegetation in the anchorage – that's the best indication of protection from them – the way to choose the safest havens. Look at all the bald rock beyond. Winds so frequent and violent that nothing can grow. But in the protected nook, it thrives."

We continued through my photos and explanations, pausing twice to tack. Then shortly past thirteen fifty, I luffed the sails and released the anchor in Plumper Cove, marked the plot and allowed our remaining way to veer the chain to eighteen metres before I pushed the button to stop the windlass. Tastevin's inertia set the anchor and swung her around, perfectly centred in the bay.

"You've done this before, Xander. I'm in awe. You handle this huge sailboat solo far better than I see most handle their small ones with crew."

"The winds were favourable. I figured why furl sails and motor in."

"Yeah, I often sail onto the anchor – and off it. But you're so much bigger."

"Same method, same slow approach, assessing changes and responding to them. Size doesn't matter."

"Hmmm! With some things, maybe." She reached a hand out and caressed my thigh.

I startled at her touch. Directly onto it. Oh, God! Accidental? No, not with what she said. Not with that kneading. What now? "Size doesn't matter there, either, Roxy. Again, it's the method and the gentleness."

"Ummm! Would you care to demonstrate?"

I swept her into my arms, and our mouths merged.