The 28^th

I think we can call the cycle officially gone. They call this paying the “island tax”. If that is so, it’s tax season. Night one my bike and my cheese.  Night two, Jermaines fancy shirt. Night three my diving brief case, empty and moldy. Word is some crackheads moved into the neighborhood, and you know how they get. Someone suggested I go tell the policia, but I don’t see how successful that would be in a country where they recruit only Guatemalans into the military because they can’t trust the Hondurans.

But as always, all energy eventually equalizes, this time almost immediately. I found a Patagonia jacket in the bay, smelling of the lowest of tides and zippers rusted still. Still, I am proud to wear a product of Yvon Chouinard whom I have a new found respect for in his loving protect of Patagonia the land.

On a clear day you can look South and see not the coast, due to the earths curvature, but the grand mountain range on the mainland. A majestic range, running from east to west as far as my eyes could see. The tallest in the country at 9000 feet, they call it the Gracias Adios, which I only desperately hope is true.

Post Script: The range is actually called Gracious a Dios. As Columbus sailed out of storms reeking of fatality the mountain came into view, and the Spaniards naturally thanked God.