Be Afraid. Be VERY Afraid…

The dreaded Babyhead... don't gaze into its beady eyes!

Despite the rather rocky beginning for the last trip, things appeared to be blissful and happy aboard Andiamo. The sun was shining, the dreadful rain that had been pounding San Blas for several previous days had finally ceded. All the guests were surprisingly upbeat and ready for their sailing adventure despite their late arrival to Andiamo due to endless problems with their 4×4 ride over.

By the second day, things had progressed nicely, and after both a heavy sail, then a briskly light sail on the gennaker in light winds, we made it to the Eastern Holandes, where Andiamo would rest for the night.

That night went by rather uneventfully, there was a great dinner with lobster pasta, clear skies, music, beer, rum, beer, music, and clear skies. All the things you can ask for. Over the horizon were storm clouds that menacingly skirted our area, but never dared to enter and ruin the blissfully clear and beautiful skies above our very heads. The night would go on this way, and all would be good.

Until the third day…

The next day, after a great breakfast… the two lovely Swiss guests: Andrea, a spunky rock-climber/industrial sales rep who has mastered the Donald Duck trademark “quack” down pat; and Anne, a German bank manager who can go from sassy and sultry to a full-on Dopey imitation in a nanosecond, asked me to take them over to the nearby island we were anchored off of so they can explore a bit. After quite a bit of whining, begging and hollow promises made, I acquiesced. Off we rowed to the island aboard my rather small plastic dinghy.

Once we got there, the girls were rather disheartened by the stark reality of what happens on these desolate islands. Unfortunately, garbage washes in from all points, from the open sea and the coast, and ashore onto the otherwise beautiful white sand beaches that adorn them, and just sits there and accumulates.

I told them how from time to time, fellow boaters and I come ashore to rake a given island and collect all the plastic, styrofoam and rubber trash. We would then put it all into one big mound and unceremoniously douse it with some gasoline and light it afire. Since there is nowhere else that this trash can go, the lesser of two evils is to just burn it up.

So at this point, Anne (the dead-on Dopey imitator) exclaims that we should do a raking session on the island we were on. As in right NOW. Not particularly feeling excited by the project, but acknowledging that it has indeed been awhile since my last real raking session, I reluctantly agreed to the task at hand. That and I just didn’t feel like hearing anymore whining.

Minutes later, the three of us are walking the beach, heading westward, then around the point and eastward, collecting all the trash we come across. The dinghy, being towed by hand, becomes our defacto mobile dumpster. By the time we reach halfway around the island, the dinghy is now more than half-full of all kinds of wretched refuse. I’m actually surprised at how fast it filled up, and there was still much more island to go.

Not longer after that thought, I came across what appeared to be a bundle of rags trapped underneath a decaying log. I strangely noticed it now looks like a dismembered torso, with a plastic head attached. It’s a decomposed baby doll that has long since served any real purpose or use in bringing some Kuna child joy.

After feigning to the girls that I had made a gruesome discovery, screaming to the heavens, “Noooooooo!!!! Why?? Why??”, while holding the dismembered baby body in my other hand. They laughed, even maybe a little too much. After the laughing calmed down, I got the idea that we should bring it back to the boat and make it into a decorative bow ornament of some kind.

After our trash collecting duties were over, we headed back to the boat. Well actually, Anne thought she wanted to swim and towed us back to the boat while Andrea and I lazed in the dinghy. It was a nice smooth ride.

Once on the boat, we showed the others the dismembered babydoll and the story behind its discovery. Upon closer examination, I decided that its raggedy stuffed body was just too far decayed, and beyond saving. I severed the head from the body and tossed the grisly remains into the sea, where it would complete its decaying til there was nothing left.

But then we were left with the now spooky remnant. From here on, he would be known as the “Babyhead” (insert spooky music here). And things would never be… the… same.

Not long after the Babyhead’s arrival on Andiamo, I noticed that the behavior on the boat was starting to shift on a rather disturbing plane. Boris, an otherwise mild-mannered physician from Hamburg who also happens to be a devout vegetarian, finds himself wanting to help Dino catch some fish. Dino baits his hook, and shows Boris the basics on how to cast the line and move it through the water. Within minutes, Boris brings in a nice-sized seabass. “Beginner’s luck” we all say to ourselves. That is until Boris brings yet another fish and then yet another. This is strange, yes. But what’s even stranger is Boris’ insatiable bloodthirst to bring in even more and more fish.

Next disturbing occurrence: One of the fish Boris catches happens to be a large long-toothed needlefish. Probably one of the biggest I’ve seen in these waters. Thinking that they are too oily to eat (as they are in the pacific), Dino interjects that he eats them all the time and they are quite good, so I should keep it and chop it into steaks. I first club the fish against the deck a couple of times, then sever the head. Oddly, the fish is still quite alive and snapping its jaws open and shut as if nothing had happened. Minutes pass, and it still continues moving its eyes, flapping its pectoral fins, and snapping its jaws despite the fact that it has NO BODY attached to it!!! Finally, I get so freaked out, I hurl the head into the water.

Later that night, after a great fish dinner, I get the idea to go for a nice moonlight swim. Since I’m always ready to swim at a moment’s notice, with boardshorts at the ready, I simply walk up to the swim steps and dive in. Feeling cool and refreshed after a hectic and sweaty cooking session in the galley. It was relaxing… I enjoy agitating the water to kick up the phosphorescence of the phytoplankton, and gazing up to the glittery starlights in the sky. Minutes later, my solitude is broken. Everyone else is jumping around me in a crazed and haphazard manner.

Another minute later, it occurs to me that everyone is swimming in the nude, el buffo, au naturel. They were all hooting and chanting in a way that I cannot fathom. Despite the incredible peer pressure to join in the decadent hedonism, I maintained my steadfastness and captain’s demeanor, the boardshorts stay on. Nonetheless, this sinful display was offputting and disturbing. As much as I wanted to blame the freeflowing rum and beer, whose supply was now dwindling fast, I also had to consider the possibility that the Babyhead had something to do with this strange, very strange, behavior… :/

Steve, an Ozzie traveling around the world with his delightfully pleasant wife (you can read his account of this saga right here!), Kaylene, swims away for a minute and then swims back quietly and covertly. While no one is paying attention, he sticks his hand out of the water, holding the dreaded BABYHEAD!!! Anne and Andrea shriek in horror.. Boris and Melanie (a surgeon, also from Hamburg) swim terrifyingly back to the boat, apparently to set up a triage station. Te and Maria, the other couple on the boat, from Canada and Sweden respectively, have already hidden themselves into the confines of Andiamo’s below-deck. Needless to say, mayhem and chaos ensues.

I, being fully responsible for all that happens on Andiamo, take command and get the Babyhead from Steve. I am now trying to calm everyone down, letting them know that things are under… control… there was no… need to.. p…an…ic… I find myself in a strange daze… things go into a blur.

According to the rest of the group, in their accounts afterward, it turns out that I was somehow “possessed” by the Babyhead and ordered to speak for it. In what I was told was a shrill, desperate falsetto voice (I have no memory of any of this, being that I was apparently possessed), I (as in the Babyhead) ordered all to bow down and obey my (its) orders, and they should fear and revere me (it). For I (it) is a vengeful Babyhead who can wreak havoc with great fury.

Apparently, everyone was in fear for their lives, panicking, not knowing what to do. After all, Andiamo was anchored in a desolate part of the Western Holandes for the night. There was no help around for miles. They determined that Babyhead was probably also jamming the signals, so making a radio call would be useless.

About that time, they told me that they found themselves in the middle of swearing their absolute faith and obedience to the Babyhead. Before someone could get Lucy tied up to a makeshift altar as the initial sacrifice, apparently she wasn’t resisting very much, things took a surprising turn. Steve somehow managed to break out of his fearful trance, and grab the Babyhead as it was perched on my two fingers (puppet style) and hurl it well into the darkness, before it could protest. It would hopefully sink somewhere out there into the murky depths of the Caribbean. I came to, out of the spell, wondering what had been happening and why my throat was so hoarse. Everyone was happy and relieved, and we all swam back to finish the night off what was left of the booze, and retire for the night. We toasted our good fortune. The worst was finally over.

Or so we thought… (insert sound of thunder here)

The next morning… I awaken, tired, battered, still a little hoarse, but relieved. Relieved it was all over. It was a somewhat rainy day, strange, because the weather has been nothing but perfect the whole time. But I figured I would swim anyway. As I was doing my morning stretch, preparing for the swim, I caught a glimpse…

In the red dinghy, floating a cubit or two from the stern of the Andiamo, there it was… Babyhead had returned. The weather turned worse. The seas swelled with rage.

The curse continues… (insert final death scream and end title music here)