Day 12 - Beach Soccer

Today, after a hearty breakfast of wild mushrooms on toast, I made a head out of a soccer ball I found in some luggage that swept ashore. I've called him Wilson after my boss. I get great satisfaction out of kicking him around the beach. Some sea turtles crawled up onto shore and I started playing with them. I made the mistake of choosing the slowest to be on my team, the others laughed at the time, I thought nothing of it as I figured I could run rings around these guys. Was I wrong or what? One of the turtles had incredible ball skills. He was ducking and weaving all the way up the field finishing with a cracking strike into the top corner of the makeshift bamboo goals. I was shocked. Luckily he was yellow carded for over celebrating which really hurt his game. I dropped back to sweeper and held them goalless until the change. In the second half a clever substitution by myself saw a passing monkey take up the spot in goals. I pushed up to the midfield and I put the slow turtle right up front. A great throw from the keeper, a blind turn around Turtlinho and a hammering drive that ricocheted off the striker into the goals and it was all level.
We eventually lost 4-1 due to bad management on my behalf. Why I decided to bench myself with 20min remaining is beyond me. I guess I needed the rest and a moonshine top up.
The afternoon was spent lazing around. For some reason I didn’t feel too good. There were many times I thought the sand was rising around me and the sky was falling past me. Like a complete inversion of reality. I theorized that it was my prolonged solitude that was causing my mind to play tricks on itself to avert the onset of cabin fever. It wasn't until much later I wised up and blamed the mushrooms.

Day 10 - Losing it.

Today I went for a walk. When I returned, Jamie Durie was putting the finishing touches on a feature wall on the outside of the Arse hut. Mother Fuckers! He smiled and said, "Surprise!", then back flipped away. They’ve completely renovated the Arse hut! But nothing nice, it’s all cement and pebbles on the outside. And inside I can’t find shit! They’ve moved all my stuff and replaced all the draws with hooks. I have a sky light that is completely redundant, curtains that look like bed sheets and bed sheets that look like curtains. I was furious! Pacing back and forth along the beach, kicking the sand at every turn. A crab in a tuxedo stopped by to see what the commotion was. After our forty five minute discussion he scuttled away and I decided to lay off the moonshine for a few days.

Day 9 - Lonely Moonshine

It has been a while since my last post and many things have happened that may or may not be the reason for my lack of interest in reporting my activities.

I put on a one-act, one-man play for the sea turtles that periodically visit. It received mixed reviews, and following an "incident" eventually closed down prematurely. As I was standing atop the mountain in the middle of the island, among the totem poles, delivering my best monologue I might add, my mobile rang. It gets excellent reception up there. It’s Lisa; she begins to rave on about how selfish I've been for not answering her calls. I try to explain that I’m stranded on an island somewhere in the Pacific and that I was actually in the middle of performing. She says she’s fed up with my excuses and proceeds to deliver fifty reasons why I’m not the perfect man. I mean, come on! I sensed a lot of self-loathing in her voice. So I calmly told her to love and be at one with herself, but not in those exact words. There was silence. It was nice. Then the tears came. I didn’t get it. I resigned to the fact I may never truly understand the fairer sex. So I set about the one chemistry I do understand, making my own alcohol.

I was amazed at the availability of required parts to make a pretty good still. The hot water urn from first class was the perfect start. Within two days I had my first batch of moonshine. Or turpentine, I'm not sure, but hey! What a kick. My first swig put hairs on my chest, the second burned them all off. I could feel the fire in my toes. It also gets the fire going in seconds. I must admit that the last few days I've spent in a daze, constantly tasting, sampling, refining then tasting again. I've been slaughtered by lunchtime most days.

Day 5 - Water works

Had a rotten nights sleep last night. It got really hot in the Arsehut at one point so I had to sleep on the beach to stay cool. But I was then plagued by a horrific nightmare in which an airline captain, much to my discomfort, was shoving the front end of the plane firmly up my arse. The pain was frighteningly real. So much so, I was jolted awake. But the pain remained. So I detached the crab, then dozed as the sun rose above the horizon and began belting down on me. The heat soon became unrelenting! It felt like it was 50 degrees at dawn. Today I must find fresh water.
I began by walking back around the beach until I reached an inlet that seemed to be carved in the coastline by running water. It created a valley in which to walk inland. It wasn't long before I came across small puddles of stagnant water. And fuck what a smell! I trekked further inland, the brush got thicker and thicker. I hit a patch of blackberries, which was kind of nice and really annoying at the same time. So I munched on berries while getting sliced by thorns. After breaking through the last of the blackberries I came upon a clearing of about 15m around. I then realised the slope of the ground had risen sharply. I walked to the top of the clearing and discovered the outlet of a small spring. I took a long drink and decided it was safe. I then turned and surveyed my trek. From the clearing I could see out to the ocean. I hadn't noticed how far I had actually climbed, but I was very high.
I figured I was probably near the top of the hill at the centre of the island, so I ventured onward, determined to be an explorer today. Three hours later I had moved about 100m. The forest was so thick I nearly gave up. Just when I was ready to turn back I hit another clearing, this time it was much bigger, slightly smaller than a football field. There were random fruit trees dotting the summit and a totem of some sort.
I stopped. A totem? This thing was manmade! It was your standard wooden carved totem, a pile of heads about 3m tall. Each face looked menacing and inhospitable. I admired the craftsmanship for a while, then began picking fruit to take back.
After a while I had collected enough fruit to last me a few days so I headed back to the Arsehut. By this time the sun had started it's descent so I cracked a beer. I followed that with a Gin and Tonic. I then realised I'd have to build a still to make my own grog.

Day 4 - First Class

This morning I was hit with a flash of inspiration. Just as I was preparing for my adventure inland to find the other half of the plane, I had a great idea for my beach house/shelter. Rather than build something at the top of the beach as I had decided yesterday, I think I'll just do some renovations to the makeshift shelter I'm using now - the arse of the plane. I mean, it's solid, waterproof and quite comfy with all the pillows. And let's face it I can't be stuffed building one from scratch.

So with that decision made I set out to locate first class.

I wasn't sure where to begin, the jungle looked so thick and over grown it would be hard to get through it. Luckily where the front of the plane had hit the tree line, an opening had been created. And as I ventured into the opening I discovered that it had actually cleared quite a path. And within five minutes I was standing in what had previously been the cockpit.

Well that was easy. I suddenly felt quite stupid for not having found this earlier. I mean, it's taken me the better part of a week to venture 100m.

But something wasn't right. There was no sign of life, which I kind of expected, but there was no sign of death either, which I also expected. I felt unsettled. There was a silence that seemed unnatural. I had noticed it as I was approaching the wreckage but didn't really think anything of it. I was abruptly overcome with fear and paranoia as the realization hit, "This was too easy." I started looking around wildly for signs of little tribesmen with fima's through their noses. I then heard a sound that was terrifyingly like the sound of drums. And what was worse, they were getting loader and faster.

With that I ran like a hysterical schoolgirl back to the beach, never once chancing a backward glance. But as I ran the sound got louder and faster and closer. As I neared the beach I had an insane image of some crazed tribal drummer leaping from branch to branch, keeping pace and a perfect beat. I burst out into the clearing, dived to the ground and rolled to see what was behind me. After a few seconds of heavy breathing it dawned on me that it was just my heart beat. I still had some earplugs in from the night before and had completely forgotten. I felt like a complete dickhead, but felt reassured that no one was around to see.

After I caught me breathe and disposed of the ear plugs I ventured back to the front portion of the plane. I was still curious about the lack of physical evidence of the plane ever actually containing any people. After some searching however I did find signs of injury, some blood spatters on sharp edges of the torn fuselage. I guessed the occupants must have been thrown clear before the wreckage reached land. I searched all the compartments still intact but couldn't find my luggage. I did find plenty of food and lots of other useful stuff, I think I'll even drag some of the structure out onto the beach and build an annex on the arse hut.

I think that's what I'll call it, the arse of the plane, my Arsehut. Fuck it, no one is here to correct me. I can make up any words I like. Four days and I'm already starting to lose it!

Day 3 - The Island

Today I awoke feeling quite fresh. So it was with glee that I climbed out of the ass end of the plane determined to do something today. I am a man of much procrastination, I must admit, so I can rarely achieve anything in a single day. But today was going to be different.

After a light breakfast of nuts and orange juice I began searching the scattered wreckage for useful items. I found a stack of cool stuff that will, no doubt, come in handy. I began piling them up at the top of the beach where I envisage my shelter will go. After about an hour I was satisfied with the days takings so I packed a small handbag I found with provisions. Of the original contents I kept the Tic Tac's, lip balm and 30+ sunscreen and tossed the rest on the pile. During my search I had uncovered a number of suitcases filled with clothes. So I changed into, what turned out to be, some of the most unattractive shorts I have ever seen. Coupled with a "wife beater" and a pair of thongs, I felt I looked like a veteran castaway. I considered changing just out of principle, but it was really hot, so I thought better of it. So with the wind in my hair, the sunshine in my eyes and a Chanel handbag over my shoulder I set out to explore my surroundings.

Well, what can I say. It's a fucking island. Not very big. I'd say about 10km around, but I'm not sure. I kind of got bored halfway and zoned out. For some reason I had Kokomo stuck in my head for an hour. The beach is the same all the way around, which is kind of nice I guess. It really is a nice beach. There were a couple of little trickles from inland that had carved small inlets, showing signs of fresh water, I'll explore those tomorrow.

But for now I'm knackered! The sun is really hot, and this bag is leather. So I was constantly peeling it off one side of me and squelching it onto the other. How do women do it? When I got back I went for a dip to cool off. Then cracked open a beer.

It has just dawned on me that I only have about a dozen beers left from the plane. There's plenty of spirits so I'm going to have to alternate to conserve stock. I've also decided to delay my search for fresh water until the day after tomorrow, prioritizing the alcohol hunt over all else. So tomorrow I'm off to find first class. I figure they would have had a nice selection of food and drink. Hopefully some of it is intact.

The stars are coming out now and the moon is rising high. It's quite full, and very large in the sky. It's surface detail has never seemed so three dimensional. The amount of stars in the sky are awe inspiring, dense like clouds of light. Maybe I'll sleep on the beach tonight.

Day 2 - The search for my luggage... and a kosher meal?

Being woken by the gentle caress of waves rolling onto the beach was a beautiful start to my first day in exile. The breeze was fresh and mild, and the sun had already developed a bit of a sting. I estimated it to be around 10am. My watch confirmed my suspicions. I left the wreckage of the plane and began my search for my missing luggage.
I was also curious to know if anyone else had survived the crash. Cause I'm not the best fisherman. Or cook.
The beach looked as though it had gone untouched for centuries. No rubbish, cigarette butts or syringes in sight. Just scattered pieces of aircraft carving a path into the scrub at the top of the sand. I was on the lookout for anything with a handle. So I followed the trail of destruction, occasionally uncovering the odd piece of clothing or, now useless, electrical appliance. A walkman entertained me for most of the search. That is until it got stuck playing a JLo track repeatedly, I think some sand got into the mechanism. Needless to say, after the Gigli incident on the plane, I tossed the offending walkman as far into the ocean as I could.
By lunchtime I was pretty hungry, so I decided to prepare some breakfast. Luckily the tail end of the plane I now call home is fully stocked with peanuts, mini bread rolls and lots of half sized beer cans. As I rummaged through the various drawers and cupboards I came across a full meal. Jackpot!
I shoveled the contents down my throat, figuring the time for decorum was well past, and was nearly finished when I discovered a small label on the side of the meal. Kosher.
I paused for a moment. Being a Taoist I wasn't sure of the level of blasphemy of my actions. Then I thought, hey I'm a Taoist, I couldn't give a shit. So I finished the meal.
After washing down the meal with six mini beers I was ready for a siesta. I figured I'd achieved a lot so far and decided to call it a day. I laid a towel substitute from one of the linen cupboards on the sand and basked in the afternoon sun, occasionally going in for a dip. Tomorrow I think I'll go exploring. I'm feeling quite optimistic that this whole island deal could be fun. But that could be the beers talking.