The 23^rd

Yesterday is a bit blurry, but I will surely recall as I write. Dancing…no…night dive?...one more thing..yes! bicycle. I will start there. I borrowed Jermaine’s new bike which he had purchased the night before, or rather the morning. I had heard him stumbling up the steps around 3 after midnight, returning from some early morning clandestine shopping. He had walked up to some guy and inquired about a bike, the man said “wait here” and disappeared up some back alley, returning a moment later with a nice bike costing a fair 700L.

This very same bike I took for a wonderful ride past town, turning into a desolate sandy road (the alleged last day before paving) through a quaint suburb, trailing off into a Hawaiian looking volcanic coast, featuring hibiscus and lazy hummingbirds, finally leading into jungle. This is where I grew overly confident with the puddles I had previously traversed and proceeded right through the epicenter of a vast ocean, where in I found myself pedaling up to my waist through the murky murk. When progress ceased I stepped off right into the quicksand. The mud held my only sandals with great tenacity, only returning it in an apologetic eruption tearing it in half.

I returned tired, just in time for the night dive. Down 30 metres through the pitch dark to the S.S Dick Cheney (The Halliburton). Fulfilling three Advanced Open Water endorsements, Deep Water, Wreck and Night. We descended upon the spooky scene, beams of light from our flashlights shining spots upon the deck. We circled the ship twice, finally swimming through the bridge with an irritated moray guarding one side and a sleepy urchin on the other. On ascent we killed the lights and drifted softly with the phosphorescents hugging us in neon illumination.

Later on Jermaine and I went on a search for The One Armed Man, last spotted outside Tranquilla Bar, a secondary objective, 10L tequila shots. Otherwise known as half the shot for half the price. Intending to stay for a single drink and buy another bike from the One Armed Man, we instead had something closer to 12 shots, played kings and danced shoeless to terrible club music with five girls each respectively representing a different Scandinavian country.

The Next Day(Today)

To quote Jimmy Buffett on the subject of this morning “My head hurts, my feet stink and I don’t love Jesus”. As it goes, straight from bed to boat. Inaudibly groaning I sat huddled in the wheel house as we hiked over ten foot rollers, in pouring rain, searching for whale sharks.

I came back for a snack of the most demoralizing thing to happen since the knife I bought and fully rusted six hours later. Whist shoveling handfuls of old raisin bran down my throat I thought to myself, “well this doesn’t taste good”. A visual inspection of the bags contents held an unacceptable level of movement. Immediately my mouth was emptied at a speed of 74 miles per hour.

Paid my reef fee, on my way back I walked into Roney’s Garage (Go Where You Want Go) to inquire about the bicicletas. “Were shipping in some new bikes” He said looking up from the weld, “500L and you can have it”. “Yes!”. “Or 100L a day to rent”. “Ummm, I think I’ll just purchase to own”.

It only keeps getting better on this island. So with just the graces of the Duppys, the rusty bike will survive without tools and I can survive with the vicious drama of the single lane island super highway.

Post Script: I usually despise product placement, but I believe in giving credit when credit is due. Krazy Glue steadfastly repaired my blown out sandal, molecularly rebonding the atoms between the tear. Cheers to Mr. Elmer.