Sailing With Kees

Bequia was full of weird and wonderful characters and I had fun times with so many of them!  One of my favorites was a Dutch fellow named Kees, an eccentric man with a heart of gold.  Kees was very thin, with leathery skin baked by years in the sun.  He  lived on  his  little  trimaran, which for  those who don’t  know  is  a three-hulled sailboat.  She was named The Wizard of Id, affectionately referred to as De Wiz.

Kees was a bit of a chick magnet.  He wasn’t exceptionally good looking but he appealed to women.  He was kind, totally non-threatening, and his love of life made him a pleasure to be with.

One beautiful day Kees announced that he was taking the Wiz for a day sail and anyone wanting to join him was welcome.  I can’t recall today how many were on board  but  I  DO  remember that it  was  an  entirely  female  crew!  Some of the women  were  from  other boats, some  from  ashore, and  we  had all  brought offerings of food and drink to share.  Kees was used to sailing alone and needed no help with the anchor or sails, all we had to do was relax and enjoy.

Except … there was a condition.  Once he had raised the anchor and sails Kees declared that clothes are unhealthy.  He himself was wearing his usual on-board attire of a simple thong, something I was having to wrap my brain around and avert my eyes from!  I had never thought of my up-bringing as being particularly sheltered but was coming to learn that I was actually pretty square and a bit of a prude.

Kees was serious.  He believed that clothing keeps our skin from breathing and that at sea we should be naked.  Several of the ladies were already topless, some pretty much  naked.  They  were also  passing  joints  back  and forth, something  I  wasn’t  going  to  touch with  a  ten-foot  pole  after my  first  experience with Bequia’s strong weed!  The few ladies still wearing bathing suit tops took them off and there I sat, little miss school-teacher, not allowing my poor skin to breathe.

By  now  we had  sailed out of  the  harbor.  Taking a deep breath, I  reached behind and pulled the sting on my bikini top.  I was so self-conscious and could feel my face burning with embarrassment. This was SO not me!

As I bared my breasts to the sea breeze I heard screams of laughter and voices shouting,   “Look  Miss  Armstrong!   Oh GAWD, look Miss Armstrong!” To my intense mortification the Friendship Rose ferry was passing close to the Wiz and was filled to the brim with Bequians returning from the Mainland. And there  was  Bequia’s newest teacher in all her glory, sailing with a bunch of naked women and a man no longer wearing a thong.