Tool-Time, Revisited: A Riveting Column
This is Part 3 in a series. Your ship was lost with all hands…except you. After washing ashore you built a fire and made it through the first long, tropical night.
You’ve already missed a few meals. There’s a lagoon nearby full of the fruits of the sea. But how do you catch it?
You awaken slowly. There is grit — sand — in your teeth and the air smells of woodsmoke.
What day is it? You don’t know. What time is it? You don’t know. You passed out last night at some point from literal exhaustion, and have come out of a deep slumber confused.
The sun is out so it’s daytime. The cool breeze off of the lagoon, sliding up the dunes to Base Camp, is like a kiss and a soft caress.
It’s coming back now. Morning. Day two.
Photo by Marco Bianchetti
You’re thinking about the last kiss and caress you had with her before everything went sideways. Before you left her and wound up on a boat that sank. You’re thinking, why did I say those things. Why did I do what I did, that caused the whole thing with her to collapse, to sink like that boat over there? And now I’m stuck here. Fuck!
If I had only paid attention. If I had only cared enough. If I’d only put my ego aside, or at least kept it in check.
Okay, you groan, no more pity party. You stand shakily. Time to get moving, make commitments, and channel your inner Bear
The fire you started yesterday is down to the coals but still burning, and you have more wood to keep it stoked. You toss another chunk on, and you’re reminded again of being in a circle with your men.
But now you’re hungry. Thirsty, too. You need drinking water. You remember seeing a waterfall up the coast… nope, too far at the moment.
Scanning your surroundings, two things stand out as potential sources of water and food: the trees, and the ocean. There is a stand of palms nearby and you see clusters of coconuts under the fronds.
In the pristine lagoon there is marine life, visible even from here, in and around the reef. Most of it is both beautiful and edible. Both will sustain. Time for the remnants of your Ultimate Home Tool Kit, and your tin cup, both of which miraculously came ashore after the wreck.
You open your UHTK, contemplating what will be necessary to get some food and water in your stomach. There they are! Before you set sail, you remember, you happened to add a new set of wood chisels. Dang! You’d forgotten you’d picked these beauties on your last visit to the hardware store. You didn’t know why you might need them but hell, they were on sale, so you’d said fuck it! and put them in your cart.
Once again, it’s the correlation between seemingly unrelated events.
Grabbing your saw, you venture into the interior. You’re looking for a tree branch straight and hard enough make into a spear. Palms won’t do, you need some sort of tropical hardwood: beach mahogany perhaps, or ironwood, hence the short treck into the jungle. But it turned out you didn’t have to go that far. Just above the dunes was a huge Ironwood with some excellent branches.
Pacific Ironwood Tree. Source: Wikimedia Commons
Yes! There’s one! It’s not perfectly straight but it’s good enough. All you need is a spear long enough with a sharp point to penetrate.
Dragging the tree branch back to base camp, there’s nothing left to do but grab your chisel to whittle a spear and go fishing. You notice that the edge of the chisel is beveled. Can you cut such a hard wood with the bevel facing you, as well as away from you? Try it both ways! When you find the best direction, use the chisel’s edge to pare the branch-end into a sharp, pointed spear.
Suddenly you realize you’re so damn parched! There’s a stand of coconut palms nearby. But… why did these have to be one of the taller varieties? (Sigh.) Those babies are 20 meters tall at least. Well, those coconuts aren’t coming to you so there’s nothing for it… time to climb.
You know it’s going to be arduous. Yet you also know that doubt kills the warrior, and you must be a warrior now: you need those fruits, and their precious water, to survive. Fuck it! you grate, knowing nothing less than a good Fuck it! will get you up there.
Attaching your saw to the caribiner on your belt loop — by habit, you always have one there — you approach the nearest of these giants. Legs wrapped around the bole, chisel in one hand and claw hammer in the other, you scrabble up, and up, and… whew! This isn’t doing your tattered pants any good, nor the legs under them, but what choice do you have?
Photo by Logan Voss
You’ve made it to the top at last! Unclipping the saw with one hand while holding on for dear life is some trick! Don’t look down, baby, it’s a long way! But you get it done and, carefully holding the smooth bole, you grab the nearest cluster of coconuts. They had looked like grapes from the ground but from up here they’re huge, heavy, and ungainly. Nothing to do but let them fall! You attack the stems and saw a few large fruits from the cluster at hand. Sweat is pouring but you manage to cut a whole cluster free.
As it drops, despite the soft sand below, you hear a satisfying crack! and know at least one has been opened without effort. It’s like manna from Heaven. Hurray! Wait, no effort?!
It’s ten times harder getting down than up, and your skinned hands and thighs are taking a beating. Yet you’re so hungry, and so very thirsty, that you shin down quickly. A few taps with the hammer, pry with the chisel, ahaa! Then, it’s gulp the coconut water, and scoop out the soft, pulpy meat — once again with your chisel.
Ahhhh! Might as well have another, there’s plenty.
Next, haul the rest back to base camp, toss the husk in the sea, and get back to work on your spear. Soon you realize that tapping the chisel with your hammer makes removing the bark easier, faster, and more accurate. You can cut more cleanly while also creating more kindling for your fire. Score!
A coconut in the surf. Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann
The spear is ready so into the water you go. It’s warm and welcoming and the saline feels soothing to your abraded skin. Thinking back to your men’s team and recalling making commitments, you realize the commitment you’re making now to yourself. You must be successful because your survival is on the line.
Diving headlong toward the reef, spear in hand, you see the marine life scatter as you approach. This may not be easy, you think, as your stomach rumbles. Clearly, you cannot give up. Rise to the surface, take another big gulp of air, dive again. You must rise — or in this case sink — to the occasion.
Tropical painted rock lobster. Photo by David Clode
What if you’d had the same sense of urgency, the same all-or-nothing, life-or-death approach to being with her. Could it really be that the attention you are now paying a lobster is more than you could muster… with her? what’s up with that?
There he is! Hiding under a waving coral is an unsuspecting, rainbow colored lobster. Using your spear, you agitate water and sand to draw it out , flush it into open territory.
You’ve cought lobsters before, it’s true, but always trussed up in a tank at the market. How is this going to work? But then you see him clearly and stab with the spear. Bingo! It penetrates the lobster’s armor like a Roman soldier in battle, and your bounty has been claimed. Back to Base Camp with your prize.
You throw the lobster in a simmering corner of the fire and the scent is so incredible in your famished state you almost can’t wait. It’s not good table manners to eat with a chisel you think, but maybe today I get a pass?
Either way, delicious! God knows what the price would be at Lobster West[1] or the Hook and Anchor,[2] but this is better. Compliments to both the fisherman and the chef!
The only thing missing is some beer to wash it down. Which is a reminder, you’ll need water to make it through the coming days. Coconuts and fresh fish provide hydration but not enough. Now, how to get water from that waterfall down the coast? It’s the only thing lacking at Base Camp and you don’t want to move. Hmm.
You stoke the fire, remembering the Men’s Weekend and overnights with your team. Remember all those dinners billed as ‘fit for a king’? You toss the lobster’s remains in the shallows, food for some other hungry beasts. Crack another coconut and this time your tin cup, the good-luck charm that apprently floated to shore behind you, comes in right handy.
Photos by Van Nguyen Hoang.
The lobster settled your stomach, and gave some desperately needed protein. The tail was just big sloppy mouthfuls of meat with the juices running down your face — those manners again! — and a faint saline taste that lingers in your mouth. You wash it down with more coconut water, and the soft nutmeat for dessert.
But all the while your mind is screaming, I have to get out of here. And if I do I vow to do better! I commit to being a better man from this moment on. And if I make that true, would it make a difference… to her?
It was indeed a meal fit for a king. But is this really going to be your kingdom?
Your spear’s at the ready and there are fish in plenty. You have coconuts and wood, and soon you’ll have water.
But right now you know you must build up the fire in case a passing ship or plane might see the distress signal. That’s what you figuratively did on your men’s team: when you were in trouble you asked for help. But you’ve never needed help like this before. You tighten your belt, lay out some palm leaves as a bed, throw more wood on the fire and stretch out, looking up at the odd, alien constellations.
Southern stars including the southern cross. Photo by Gilmar Ozio.
There’s no dipper, no Orion, nothing familiar. You’re alone. Eating alone, falling asleep alone, and you think, it’s just like it’s been at home since she… And as the dreams begin you remember what — and whom — you must live for.
References:
[1] Lobster West is a restaurant chain based in southern California
[2] Hook and Anchor is a restaurant chain based in southern California
About the Author
Matt Coddington is an award-winning commercial locksmith. He currently works and writes in San Diego. He is a former paperboy; a former avid collector of baseball cards, and a former musician and Drum Corps International world champion. He is sixty-three, single, and has no children. His next chapter—whatever it may be—is set to commence soon.
