Profile: Nicky
Nicky and I met in a crumbling hostel in Merida. It was just after New Year’s and we were disheveled and hot and sticky in our bunks. We cracked open sweating cans of cheap beer and swatted absently at the mosquitos while trading our travel stories.
Nicky is older than I and a former sailor. She has stunning strawberry blonde hair (more strawberry than blonde), a fantastic tan and a spectacular laugh. She attacked a bag of Burger King takeout with a mixture of exhilaration and shame while telling me about her sailing days.
Years ago I sailed across the Atlantic—it was a race, you see. We went from the UK down the west coast of Africa and then cut across to the Caribbean, but we didn’t go far enough south and got caught in a giant system of dead air. There was absolutely no wind, and the ocean was like glass. We’d stupidly brought no cigarettes in a naïve attempt to quit smoking, and had hidden flasks of airplane whisky in the pockets of all our clothes because the skipper didn’t allow booze. One morning after days of waiting for the wind, we woke to see another boat not far from us. We got them on the radio and asked if they had beer—they did. We just jumped right in the water—didn’t even bother with the dinghy—and swam over to them. The air was so still our boat didn’t move all day. Later our navigator told us the stretch of ocean we’d swum was over 4 km deep; I almost shat myself. Whatever’s down there is sure to be unknown, enormous, and ugly as sin.
At night the stars were beyond comprehension. They formed a complete dome of light over us from horizon to horizon. One night we saw a meteorite hit the water. It was glowing so bright and coming straight for us, we didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t flaming or anything like that; it glowed a kind of eerie white. It hit the water and bounced, then sank—still glowing—into the depths.
Even more amazing, though—for me—was sitting on the prow of the boat at night while the rest of the crew slept. On the tip of the boat with my feet in the water, it was as if I was the only person in a strange new world. It was just me, the black ocean, and the stars going on forever. Dolphins would come and play in the waves around the boat, so close their backs rubbed up against my feet.
When we reached the Caribbean, we all started smoking again immediately.
