The Sea and The Darkness

The sound of the waves

Lapping at the shore in the darkness

It needs not be seen in the light

I’ve seen it so many times

It is burned into my memory

I can see the froth

The glistening sand as the water recedes

I can hear the rocks rolling as the waves recede back into the inky blackness

I can smell the salt air and feel the coolness

The stars in the heavens are doubled in the reflection on the sea and the endless horizon bends ever so slightly

The moon shimmers on the ripples as they return to the sea

I get goose bumps as I open my eyes and feel the cool night air

I sit back, take a drink and breathe

Ahhhh…

Pseudo Baja

Traveling this year has been full of trials and upsets, joy and sorrow. Mainly due to this pandemic circling the globe now for the second time…COVID, the *rona, the cove…by any name it still brings a certain amount of fear and a huge amount of cautiousness. We have done our best the last six months to be away from people and close social contact. This is some real shit, at least to half the population of the world that is taking it with seriousness.

We also have just come through an election that was pins and needles. The amount of stress we felt was overwhelming. The tension was felt even into campsites and passing through small towns. I have to wonder how someone’s mind can become so blind to the lies and prejudice this man exudes. At least now the flags have come down and people are just cordial and most maintain distance.

Our plans originally fell to the wayside with travel restrictions, closing airports and whole countries. We were going to drive to Alaska this past summer but the Canadian border remained closed. We instead played in Montana around the Canadian border towns at the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. We kayaked and fished, stayed in the wild outdoors until the weather crapped out on us. Then we headed south.

Our next plans were to go to the Baja for this winter. There were quite a few women travelers that had planned a trip the year before COVID. This border still remains closed.

Of course we could fly… but now-a-days that is only a guarantee one way. We have kicked it around several times over the last month. All our bag of tricks are slowly getting taken away with the third big surge of COVID in the US and worldwide. I have friends who got stuck outside of Ft Lauderdale on a cruise ship when the first panic hit in March. Travelers were stuck in all parts of the world and some took months to get home.

Things have kicked in again this year. This time the entire country is sharing in the East Coast’s fate from the first big wave of COVID. We are nervous about large gatherings and towns. We are hyper-vigilant, now more than ever. We avoid established, park here, park here type campsites for the more primitive. We are totally self contained so we can stay away for days and be totally off grid. The beauty of being completely off grid?… No cell, no XM… now that’s remote.

So here we sit, off a 5 mile washboard road from hell. Quite narrow and steep…then it opened up as we crested the hill. Before us, Lake Mohave, Telephone Cove, Nevada. We are near where all three states come together. This little cove is peaceful, quite and secluded. Pebblee stone and sand beach gently sloping into a bay of sky blue. The desert sprawls out before us, ten old cottonwoods hold tight to their small purchase of land, providing shade and shelter for the small desert birds and large loud Mina birds and ravens.

There are a few other campers scattered up and down the beach in assorted RV type vehicles right up to full on converted school buses. Every little pod is a world in itself. Children and dogs run up and down the beach. Adults talk to others from a safe distance. Roof top tents sprinkle the far shore, full on trumpees occupy the next cove, flags faithfully flying, then comes the various pull trailers and full on 5th wheels the size of half a city block… how the Hell did they get down here anyway?!? Then a few do it yourself van builds round out the mix.

The temps in the Colorado corridor range mid 40s to mid 50s at night and high 60-80s in the days. It’s a perfect climate for whatever you want to do. Yesterday we went trail riding with the UTV and came around the corner to the most beautiful private cove. BHAM!! There is no way anything other than a UTV, dirt bike, horse or snowmobile could swim threw the 12-20” sand oceans comprising the trail.

We returned to camp and cooked up a nice gourmet dinner. Nice end to the day.

This morning we woke to see a couple stand up boards on the bay, a kayak and a canoe. The bay was like glass and the sky reflected like a mirror, painting its best morning hues. We are planning a kayak trip after a few minor chores. The lake is higher but an algae bloom has got me worried so Gandaulf will need to stay dry today. I am not taking any chances with him either.

Slow lazy days sitting in the midday sun, stairway to heaven playing softly in the back ground, makes us think, “maybe this is as good as it’s gonna get this winter”…aside from a true “house”, this may be our pseudo Baja.

The Art of Wave Watching and Sky Meditation

The immense energy builds

The water retreats from the beach leaving a shimmering ripple on the sand

The wave pulls up

Up and up building up a frothy top

Gravity takes control and the wave crashes

A thunderous clap as the top of the immense wave hits the calm water below

It rolls slowly to the shore loosing its energy as it passes over the sand

The calm and stillness take over

A lone surfer paddles out and meets this energy

Riding its strength and power

The sky beyond the waves is vast and encompassing

I stare into it with a deep inhalation

As I release I am pulled into the vastness of the deep blue

I enter the energy and light

As finite as the line between sea and sky is

I transcend into the oneness of it all

The breeze blows across my skin…hot with sun

My toes bury deep in the sand

I am connected earth, sky and water

I am the link between them all

I breathe again and slowly pull my conscious back to this moment

I can feel the interconnectedness of it all and I am one with it all and at peace

The Song of The Islands

21 November 2018 Bequia, West Indies

We are eight days into our vacation. Longest one in years. We’ve been bouncing around a couple Islands down here and have just jumped to the small island of Bequia. Home to only 4800 residence. There is no fresh water on the island. The residence fill tanks during the rainy season and make it last. Similar to Bermuda. Strange…but a fact of life here.

I think we finally settled in, both mentally and physically. There’s a peace and tranquility that just wraps you like a soft blanket. Your breathing slows, you start waking up at dawn… because you’ve gone to bed before 9. You are just present in the moment…What to do or not do next? I feel like the days have finally slowed down. We take time to watch the sunsets, take a nap or just kick back and chill.

The Sweet Retreat: perched high up on the side of the hill. Built going straight up just like all the pieces of land here. It’s a gayly colored home three stories tall. There are many rooms, studios and suites. I love the layout of out little room. Outside there’s a full moon and all the night peepers are singing loudly. The anoles that sneak into your room and sing like a spastic smoke detector that the battery is dying on, you can never find the damn thing. The ceiling fan creeks as it spins around on its rusting components. The island breezes rustling through the trees and the passing rain showers. Finally the sound of the waves on the beach below and the faint music of the bars floating on the island breezes tops off the symphony.

The song of the Islands…

Escape to the Islands: A Journey of Peace and Healing

Part One

It has been nearly 3 months since I got sick. The last three months have found me working on my recovery and my well being on a daily basis. It took nearly 2 months this for me to regain my balance, my voice and my energy. I feel much more alive than I did before my illness. Much more at peace and much more grounded. Now it’s time for a much needed vacation. So off to the islands we go. First a few days in St Lucia to settle in and settle down. It’s said that it takes four days to relax, turn off and unwind. I guess that means my vacation can start today!

We left home four days ago. Chris did her best to stock up the store with great inventory. I made sure the house was properly prepared for a long time away. We made sure our guys were up to speed and had everything they needed to succeeded. What was left was only the unknown. It was time to go to catch our flight and start our adventure.

We chose to take the late afternoon flight than a stay over night in Atlanta before catching our flight to St Lucia, West Indies. Leaving a cold, wet climate to a warm, humid one will be a welcome relief. Enjoying the last of our “known” creature comforts to the unknowns of the Islands.

Island Life: Days 3-5

There’s something to say about island life. It’s kicked back pace. Long hours of scraping out a living… or doing absolutely nothing but digging your toes in the sand and sucking up some rays. That soon can growing quite boring, at least for Chris and I.

Day three started quite early. We had to catch the 7am ferry back to Belize City in order to catch a taxi and get to our meeting place by 8:30. Of course all of this is in Island time which means, a fifteen minute of error has come to be expected.

We had a golf cart taxi waiting for us at 6:30am. Chris was getting off at the Amore Cafe for some coffee and I was to go the rest of the way with our backpacks, check our luggage and wait for Chris. I began to worry when it was 6:55 and Chris was still no where in sight. There are times when that fifteen minutes comes in handy. She finally showed after walking all the way to The Split and realizing she had missed the docks somehow.

The ferry ride was uneventful, we gathered our backpacks and a taxi and met up with our group, with plenty of time to spare. We soon found out that the group had just come off the Glover’s Reef trip and were now known as the double atollers. For once it appeared we wouldn’t be the oldest in the group… as a matter of fact the group was an average of 55 years old, all professionals, all trying to get to a place in their lives where they can “retire”. We were on the perfect trip!

Most of the third day was spent on boats, getting from one island to another at the furthest eastern land mass in Belize. Arriving at our tent camp on the small island of Half Moon Caye, we were broken into our groups, the double atollers and the newbies… Our tents assigned and lunch served, our day could finally begin…nine hours after we awoke.

Impressions of Half Moon Caye:

Unlike many islands were have been on, these Belizeans care about the cleanliness of their little piece of sand. There was very little garbage littering the sandy white beaches and the windward side of the island, that would normally collect what the tides bring in was also devoid of all ocean trash. This is the rest spot for divers of The Blue Hole. This is also the furthest Belizean outpost for The Autobahn Society. They patrol the waters of The Blue Hole for illegal fisherman, help educate the visitors to this island and keep this turtle hatchery pristine.

Half Moon Caye is also a bird sanctuary. There are nesting colonies of Red Footed Boobies, Frigate Birds and Osprey. There are three predominant species of lizards and an exorbitant amount of Hermit Crabs. The camp actually uses the crabs as a form of composting. All the food scraps are put into a bin and the hermit crabs swarm the pile and become a moving, crunching mass of bioengineering, turning these piles into nothing overnight. Remember anything we create (trash wise) on this island must be disposed of, either by burning, hauled off on boats, or organically disposed of.

The air on the island is thick with salt, humidity and birds. It’s like a kite festival with thirty or fourth birds souring on the ocean breezes…silently swooping and diving, gliding effortlessly. On the windward side the breezes keep the humidity to a manageable level, although everything is soaked and wet in the mornings. The further you get away from the ocean breezes, the humidity gets quite unbearable and the turquoise blue lagoon becomes very inviting.

The frigate birds have huge thin wings and forked tail. They glide stealthy on the wind and watch for the boobies or osprey to catch a fish. In a second, the frigates go into action, diving in long swoops, weaving and turning gracefully in the air as they begin their assault on the fish bearing sea bird. They grab hold of the fish, lock talons and spiral towards earth. Eventually they hit the water or until one of the seabirds releases and flies off to hunt again.

At night the hermit crabs come out by the hundreds. The path ways from area to area become a seething river of these creatures. It kinda creeps you out at night when your flashlight accentuates the size of these crabs when walking to the restroom or shower. It reminds me of some alien organism out to snatch you in your sleep and carry you off. With no real predators on the island they thrive!

Most every activity has been centered around water. There is something calming about water. Whether submersed in it or floating on top, it has a magic over me that rocks to my soul. It can be gentle and calm or a raging surf. It has the ability to shape and reshape with little that can stand in its way. I feel fortunate to be able to see below its surface to its undersea world of bright colors. The fragile world that hangs in the balance yet is abundant with life.