Repeat Offender

One year has past; one year, with the length
Of one technical writing contract! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from Lake Nicaragua
With a soft jungle murmur. --Once again
Do I behold these tarpon jumping in the river
That on a wild and secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more wild Nantucket sleigh rides; and connect
The landscape with the Caribbean Sea.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, in this uncomfortably hot internet cafe in San Carlos . . .

From those opening lines of Tintern Abbey I conclude that Wordsworth was, as I surely am, a repeat offender. Remember the kid who always said, whether it was tobogganing down the hill in winter or diving in the pool in summer, ¨let´s do it again!!!¨ ? I am that type, and that´s why I am here again in San Carlos, ready to head out to the Solentiname islands (again) for a bit of bass fishing and paddling conditioning before heading (again) downriver in my kayak.

Here is my rap sheet, my list of offenses repeated and aggravated over time:

• 3 times to Peru; knocking about, trekking with backpacks, and climbing snow peaks, respectively.
• 3 times to Argentina; catching fewer but bigger fish each time, and finally running the Rio Gallegos in an inflatable kayak.
• 4, 5 times into the Alaskan bush chasing trout, grayling and salmon
• 2 times to Nepal to trek around
• 2 times to Nicaragua to paddle and fish (current!)
• 2 times to Baja to paddle and fish (throwing in the next plan, just for good measure)

Though I am delighted to say that I did not go ahead and violate the wise old saying of the Japanese, ¨A wise man climbs Mt. Fuji . . . once.¨

Of course, the point of going down the hill again is to see if you can do it a little faster, or a little better, or if maybe this time you end up breaking your neck like your Mom warned you would happen. In that vein, I´m going much further downstream on the San Juan this time -- all the way to the Caribbean, if things work out as planned. It´s understood that there will be some delays on the way to troll about and cast for tarpon. I would really, really like to (again) hook up with a big old tarpon and have a Nantucket sleigh ride. Last year´s ride remains one of the clearest memories of my life´s joyful moments. I remember that night I couldn´t get to sleep, I was so full of adrenaline and excitement, even hours after landing the fish. I think that such an experience could provide an effective antidote to a growing condition in which I am at times too plagued with ennui to get out of bed in the morning . . . .

In one of his travel essays Paul Theroux commented that the worst part of travelling in remote parts isn´t danger, as most people think, but rather delay -- the interminable waiting around in the heat for this boat or that plane. At the moment I am killing time prior to boarding a slow boat out the islands. It should get there in time for to do at least a bit of fishing from the dock, but it probably won´t. I occupy about half my time reading Phineas Redux and the other half contemplating the correct actions to take if/when my next Nantucket sleigh ride slows down and becomes a San Juan tarpon anchor. Try backing up to shore with one-arm paddling, as I did once (unsuccessfully) with a big striper on the bay? Carry a decent-size club with me, and try to knock him out at the gunwale and drag him in? Hm. Obviously I have some more thinking to do on this. Fortunately, I have time for it.

Saludos desde Nicaragua!