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Saturday, May 7th, 2005. Solo.

Foaming Surf Beach.jpgI arrived early at the Yacht Club. My special forces friend and Ximo had left before. I hurried to unload my boat from the container’s racks and headed to the hotel. I paddled alone under a basking sun allowing short stops for drinking water. The calm seas were carved with large low swells and reflecting waves stirred the waters by the cliffs. Close to the last groyne I crossed my way with two paddlers in rotomolded orange and yellow boats. I reached the beach that lays in front of my father’s villa. I stopped for a few minutes after launching and headed back for the Yacht Club.
The return journey took me forty five minutes. I practiced the rotation that has failed me on my departure.
I speeded up rinsing and loading my equipment. I drove rapidly. Upon arrival I took a shower and hurried to the rolling clinic. My mother’s fruitless search for my diving goggles delayed me for half an hour. Sometimes I feel like Norman Bates.

Posted on Saturday, May 7, 2005 at 01:30AM by Registered Commenter[Ignacio Wenley Palacios] in | CommentsPost a Comment

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