Sunday evening, Stacey arrived. Jeff couldn’t make it because of issues with his mother – he stayed home to settle them like the loving son that he is. We missed you so, Jefe!
Of course, the first thing any traveler from the big city needs to do is to slow down to island time. Some real arm twisting (NOT!) and:
But really, folks, no rest for the weary, and we have signed us all up for a night dive Monday night (what a trooper – her first dive of the trip and first night dive as well); but first to test out gear:
It’s a nice dive and we can see the almost-full moon from 50 feet below. Nothing spectacular or even highly unusual (that’s the story of all the dives here, jaded girl that I am), but really fun when we get back to the boat and everyone turns off their flashlights. The moonlight provides enough that we swim around and enjoy the quiet of evening waters.
Stacey and Lance go for a one-tank Tuesday morning dive, and before we know it, Lance is ready to leave on Wednesday morning (but not until after receiving emails his flights are cancelled due to snow and some quick emergency travel plans are made), so it’s photo time once again (just don’t seem to be snapping so many in this relaxing atmosphere):
The next few days include a couple of biking adventures; Stacey wants to collect bleached urchins to create some artsy shadowbox for her Florida apartment. Just an excuse to head out to some other coasts of the island. First day, we head out to the north, near the lighthouse, and walk along the shore. We are delighted to see flocks of flamingos and birds. Damn, I don’t have my long lens, but I do my best (will be cropping and re-posting when I return):
and then there were the flamingos in flight, but i’m going back to try and capture that one with the long lens, since i have no ability to enlarge current photos. Another day we headed over to the west side of the island, where no one dives because it’s open to the rough seas. As we wind around the dirt and paved roads, getting a bit lost (but who cares?), we finally head over and up the long ride of a hill that runs along the whole east side of the island, stopping along the way to ask how to find the beach, and end up parking on a gravel road and hiking through shifting sands to the shoreline:
We are so surprised to see that there is NOTHING washing up on the shore other than salty, blue Caribbean water! There’s a really rocky iron shore, but no seaweed, no shells, no nothing that scavengers like us are looking for (me, I’m in it for the sea glass). Plenty of trash that’s washed in further up the bank, about 50% of which is fisherman detritus and the rest from…I don’t know, container ships? Overboard cruise liners? Whatever.
Back home from our adventures for our afternoon tanning session. One morning we go on a two-tank dive. The first is somewhat of a disaster because the divemaster wasn’t aware of a fairly strong current which we had to plow through to get back to the boat. I had to stop twice to rest and calm my breathing down. Two people ran out of air. The dive master dropped Stacey’s weight belt onto her mask and broke it. Ugh! Second dive of the morning actually turned out to be my best so far (and I think Stacey would agree). North Chief Minister, it’s called, and a plethora of healthy coral with lots of life. Great visibility and I was finally able to connect to my feeling of warmth in my heart for all of the beauty and wonders living under the sea that most people aren’t ever aware of and that the rest of us often forget about. I turning in 360’s to take it all in and remember.
Anyway, once we returned from a most satisfactory ending, we walk over to the Sandbar for lunch. Orders of Conch bites and fried fish and two run punches (that pack quite a wallop, let me tell you), we are back on our bikes, giggling and wobbling all the way back home where it’s instantly nap (sleep off the punch) time for both of us. I start on the hammock, but Jim-Bob (Jim and Bob, that is, the much louder half of the two Canadian couples living next door) are yapping so loud, I wake up and head in to plop on the bed. But the spell is broken and I find other things to occupy myself with.
And just like that, the elasticity of time that allows me long days with so much to do and not do has shortened and it’s time for Tatey to fly back to her nest in New Jersey.
A final meal at the Sandbar:
Thanks for the fun, the long talks, the laughing (al-ge braaaaaa), and most of all, for being my little sis. xoxo