‘All good!’ Delaney replies, and we motor away from the pier. When we clear the marina, the skipper opens up the throttle. Delaney shrieks with boisterous laughter and I laugh along with her.
It’s going to be a fun afternoon.
10
DELANEY
We race along the northwest coastline, and it’s hard to believe this is real. The scenery is so intense, sogorgeous, it looks like CGI – the rocky cliffs, the outcrops of monolithic, jagged rocks, the colour of thewater– aquamarine closer to the island, deep inky blue further out – and the cobalt sky overhead, dotted with white puffs of cloud.
I’ve been to some incredibly beautiful places in the world, but Capri is jostling for top position along with New Zealand’s south island and the Big Island in Hawaii.
It makes it easy to forget about the ash cloud – until I look north across the Bay of Naples at the hovering grey haze.
Mother Nature has kicked my ass a few times in the past. Gale-force winds in Panama that forced a major shooting schedule shuffle. Unseasonal back-to-back-to-back sunny days on a moody drama, doubling our post-production costs. An early spring that rained out our shoot in Alaska, melting all the snow – and artificial snowmakers are a huge expense, especially when they’re shipped from Colorado.
But this isn’t an ass-kicking – more like a gentle pat on the rear end. Sure, I’m separated from Nicholas, but being stranded in paradise doesn’t suck, so why complain?
‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’ Nick shouts in my ear.
‘It’s amazing,’ I shout back. ‘You feeling okay?’ I ask, patting my stomach.
‘Yeah – the tablet seems to have done the trick. Thanks again.’
‘It’s my job.’ Only it isn’t – not this time – and he angles his head as if I’ve said something funny. ‘You know what I mean.’
We share a smile and a little while later, the boat begins to slow and we join a cluster of other boats – some bigger, some smaller – all idling. The skipper points towards the entrance of the Blue Grotto, a dark tunnel in the limestone cliff-face, and it’sminuscule.
How the hell are we supposed to fit through there?
Right as I’m envisioning having to swim in – and I am aterribleswimmer – a small rowboat emerges from the entrance. Once it clears the opening, five people pop up, including a guy who starts rowing. The other four people are talking animatedly and while I can’t make out what they’re saying, it’s obvious they’ve been blown away.
Still… that’s a very tight space and my breath hitches in my throat.
‘We wait our turn and then you go on the little boat,’ says our skipper.
I think I’d prefer swimming it.
‘You going to be okay?’ Nick asks and when I look over, he’s studying me closely.
‘Mm-hmm,’ I say, nodding vigorously.
‘Claustrophobia?’ he asks.
‘That, yes,’ I reply, turning to watch the exchange of people off and onto the rowboat, ‘and whatever it’s called when you don’t want to drown in a rowboat inside a tunnel inside a giant cliff because the tide came in.’
He chuckles softly.
‘Please don’t laugh at me,’ I say, ‘I’m shitting my pants here.’
‘We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.’
‘No, I know, but…look.’
I point at the people who just came out – they’re back on the boat that brought them – and now they seem evenmoreexcited, showing each other photos on their phones, exclaiming and laughing.
‘It does seem like an incredible experience,’ says Nick, ‘but that doesn’t mean we have to do it.’
‘You’re not scared even one little bit, are you?’