The konoba in Kaprije

At the end of our second day on Indian Wizard, we came to Kaprije, a small island north of Split - we picked up a mooring buoy, and came to rest in a sheltered inlet -

Sue, our instructor, was a fearless Irish girl, exacting in her teaching - she set very high standards in what she expected of us - what? - she would ask - what are you wanting to do? - I can hear her voice, even now, full of authority - I can still see her keen gaze -

We were all, I think, a little afraid of Sue - even John, who worked for Samsung, and who wore wrap around shades, was in awe of her -

Yet we found out, as we had to, that Sue was warm hearted and generous to a fault - she inspired us to overcome our fears, to be bold and skillful -

Anne and I paddled our shipmates ashore - we dipped the small paddles into the still shining water - there was no current or wind -

Sue led us to a konoba - we walked through the empty streets of a small village - there was a tree with purple blossoms - a red bike was left outside, like the gift offering of a cargo cult - beyond the village there were dark pines -

We turned, suddenly, into a stone house, past an open air oven - inside, we we were greeted with laughter and magnificent gestures by a woman in a yellow tee shirt - we sat down at a rough table in her living room - she showed us a metal tray upon which were lined up seven glinting fish -

Seeing Jack, another instructor, with his two Australians and sleepy eyes, our Croatian matron grinned hugely - fumare, fumare - she said, taking him by the arm -

Do your duty Jack, said Sue - we might get something off the bill -

We gulped down tiny glasses of fiery liquor - there were stories told about wild gusts of wind -

Sue told us that she came from Adrigole, not far from Macgillycuddy's Reeks - she, too, had relished the Bacchanalia at The Blue Loo -