I met CC several years ago, aboard a beat-up fishing dhow making it's way up the Strait of Malacca. I'd just pissed off some bigwig in Kuala Lumpur, and needed to get out fast. The northern tip of Sumatra would be far enough, for the time being. CC wouldn't say why he was on board, and I didn't ask. My policy: neve… Read more

I met CC several years ago, aboard a beat-up fishing dhow making it's way up the Strait of Malacca. I'd just pissed off some bigwig in Kuala Lumpur, and needed to get out fast. The northern tip of Sumatra would be far enough, for the time being. CC wouldn't say why he was on board, and I didn't ask. My policy: never get into a man's business, especially if you're sailing in waters frequented by pirates, and you need someone to watch your back when things get tight. But as we were the only two on the boat who spoke more than five words of English, we struck up a quick friendship. He said something about the Peace Corps, but I figured it was a cover for something else. CIA? Interpol? Mossad? So what? I just hoped it wasn't Amway. My questions were later put aside when, with the lights of Pangalansusu glimmering off the port bow, CC reached into a beat-up chest he dragged on deck and pulled out a bottle of Swiss absinthe. He was quiet for a long time as we passed the bottle between us, but then he said--and I'll never forget this--in a very serious tone: "When I get home, I'm gonna take some great photographs, dammit." Well, darn if he wasn't right about that. He takes some great photos. My hat's off to him. Just one thing: just don't ask him about the Peace Corps...