I Killed Last Sunday
Lowell Sheppard • November 26, 2019
I killed.It was last Sunday.It was in self-defense.Or was it?
Last Sunday, Nov 24th was eventful.
The three days leading up to Sunday and with the help of Wahine crew Claude, Chiharu, David, and Robin, we got Wahine back in the water for a sea trial of the new propeller and gearbox, began to spiffy her up for an upcoming event with Keel Club
Founding Member Tokyo Super Cars
on December 1st.
On Sunday morning, with Wahine happily back at her Berth (M14), having had her new propeller and gear box given the all clear, new bilge pump installed, a serious amount of mold removed and newly waxed saloon walls, I was about to bid her farewell for a few days and re-join Kande and Skylie
at our lovely solar-powered log house in Aichi-Ken after two weeks away. Suddenly, the rain, which had made work miserable for the previous 48 hours, abated and I chose to delay my train trip a couple of hours, and instead throw the lines, head out into Tokyo Bay and hoist the sail for the first time with only me on board.
Woah . . what a feeling. Finally! I was sailing solo for the first time! Wahine and I had a great time tacking back and forth into a northerly. Enjoying the sensation of being driven by the wind at sea, alone, while comforted by knowing that the Tokyo Skyline, Disneyland, and Chiba were all within site and easy reach. I tried to imagine them being erased from the scene and I was approaching Nemo North. But alas, the time came to drop the sail, turn the engine on and motor back to the Marina.
Airborne Enemy, 6 o'clock!
Then it happened. Something menacing approaching from astern. Something large, with weapon like dangly things. Something that clearly was determined to get on board Wahine.
A Hornet. A huuuge hornet! Zig-zagging into the wind, as if tacking, two meters above the relatively calm waters but into a stiff northerly. After much struggle, it finally succeeded and once under the cover of the Bimini made a "bee line" for my head!
The Back Story
At this point in my little tale, I must let you know that the last time I was stung (in 2012, I was getting my bike out of my bike shed), it got me right between the eyes and was unconscious within four minutes. Thanks to my son dragging me into the car at home and out of the car at the hospital, and my wife driving, Starsky and Hutch
style, with pedal to the metal and fist to the horn, passing cars driving into oncoming traffic and for the final 500 meters speeding down the sidewalk to avoid the gridlock, I woke up in ICU having had a fleet of doctors repeatedly stabbing me with synthetic adrenaline to bring me back. It took four attempts (the lead doctor told me later they only ever had to stab patients back once). After that incident, the doctors warned me that the next sting would likely be fatal. Since then, I have lived with his words and several EpiPens. He told me they may extend my life a few minutes so he insisted I always have three on hand, but frankly, I didn't really see the point.
So, with all the focus, fear, and flailing limbs that comes in the moment when your life is threatened, my world shrunk to a couple of cubic meters of space as I tried to dodge the intruder. After a few moments of wild gesticulations, I regained my composure, and opened my eyes and saw the hornet on the cockpit floor looking slightly dazed. I knew this was my chance to win. To be the victor, and live to tell the tale. Without a moment`s hesitation, I lifted by boot high and then promptly planted it directly on the poor creature. I held my foot there, hoping that the maneuver was successful, knowing that if I had failed, I would be sharing the cockpit with one angry and armed insect. After a few moments of squishing and grinding, I lifted my foot and was relieved to see the new arrival laying lifeless on the teak.
“It was Self-Defense” I said.
Time is stretched it seems in moments of intense focus and passion, and so I cannot recall if it was a minutes, seconds or milliseconds, before the self-doubt set in. Glancing at the dead creature while I was still at the helm, I wondered whether I had jumped to the wrong conclusion and devised the wrong narrative.
I recalled how determined it was to catch up to Wahine, and wondered whether it was dazed because it has actually crashed landed on the cockpit floor, the result of suddenly speeding up once out of the head wind and in the draft of Wahine, and then struggling to its feet the moment my foot came down. Could it be the poor little creature had simply found itself too far off-shore with the head wind, was simply exhausted and wanted to hitch a ride to shore?
Of course, I will never know. I am no expert and have no idea whether hornets, bees, and wasps get tired of flying and need to rest!
All I know is that life is full of "jack in the box" experiences, when you are going through known behaviors and repetitive tasks, turning the handle of daily life when suddenly something springs up and surprises you. The surprise can be good or bad, but it demands of your instant judgement to accept, embrace or reject and condemn. And there is no time to consult others. Decisions are made instantly. And philosophically we have to choose in that moment: grace or judgement; mercy or anger; or even comedy or tragedy.
One thing for sure, when I cross the Pacific solo, I will have plenty of time to ponder these profound themes. Hmmmm .. I wonder what I may learn . . and more importantly, what surprises the journey will bring, particularly that no amount of training has prepared me for.
