Picture of the day

This turtle was, for some reason, quite interested in me. He sailed along the reef, encountered me taking pictures, and then circled me two or three times before moving on. He was maybe four feet long, and quite blasé about meeting us. Maybe turtles are blasé about everything.

There are more turtles here than I’ve seen anywhere, including one huge old guy, named Rambo, who is longer than I am, and probably much older. Shortly after I met the chap in the photo, Rambo came rolling down the reef in his massive elephantine way, and passed under me. He then decided to rise along the reef and rest on a little ledge about the level of my head, which meant that he changed directions and started swimming up between me and the reef. I moved off to give him room, and lucky that I did, because I looked down and saw this HUGE, BALD, WRINKLED TURTLE HEAD RISING UP BETWEEN MY LEGS ON ITS LONG, LONG NECK. In sudden alarm I began to wonder exactly what this turtle wanted with me! But then the rest of him shouldered me aside, and Rambo moved onto the ledge and settled in, looking resignedly at all the visitors who were taking his picture. (Trying, this life of celebrity.)

I am settled with my roomie Mike into a thatch-roofed bungalow, which thankfully has air conditioning, because otherwise I’d be dead by now. I do not suffer the tropics well, unless there’s a sea breeze or an ocean to jump in.

I am in what is technically a resort, insofar as it offers resort-like options, like massages and pedicures. But because it’s purpose-built for adventurers, and options are determined by the tide, it’s run more like a military camp. “Reveille at 0630, breakfast at 0700, hit the beach at 0730 with full equipment for marine transport to first objective. Dinner at 2000, and lights out at 2100.”

Not that there actually IS lights-out, we could party all night in the bar if we so desired, but the day is so exhausting that most of us hit the rack early.

Envy me this if you will.

Today I walked through the local town, which has a couple churches, one abandoned, and a central administrative district, and I waved at everyone, and everyone was friendly. I saw a man straddling a log and chopping away at what would become his new dugout canoe.

Pieces of a novel are falling into place, click, click, click.

All is well. Semper fi, and carry on.