I get away from it all

I get Linda to drop me off on shore. I walk through a small town. The houses are patched wood and metal sheeting, painted a bit colorfully, as you would imagine. About 15 ft by 15 ft big. The people at least act friendly. They don't in general bug you to buy things. However, if you need something, they will try every trick to get more money. It's part of the game, and ok because you both know it. They don't have change. No, truly. Nothing. Well, then, you don't need the item. Now they have change. But only partial. No, truly. You walk away. Oh! They have just found change in their pocket.

It is their favorite game. We both get it.

I walk down the beach through two Sandals resorts. There are mostly Germans, some Americans. Lots of Canadians, I'm told. There are big expensive beach toys, plastic pods floating in the water. Horses to ride romantically down the beach. Many smiling servers of brightly colored drinks. I know Ièm allowed to walk through only because Ièm white.

Past them I get to a National Park. Cool. It is on an island that's no longer an island because they built a causeway. I pay $5 US to get in. There are trails with signs. There are old buildings and cannons. And a fort, way up high. I go to the Carib caves which really are nothing, then in my usual way, boulder myself straight up the side of the mountain to the fort. It is dangerousÉ Of course. Boulders slip down the mountain, crashing below. But this is how I do these things. ONce I get back to the trail, There are many, many signs showing drawings of British soldiers from the late 1700's early 1800s. It's all about commerce I think, but they make it sound more prosaic. Prosaic? I think that's the wrong word. Heroic? Inevitable. Noble. At least in one sign they make fun of the fact that the British soldiers continued to wear their British clothing. In the tropics. You know, Going Native was the worst one could do.

They have an impressive interpretive center.

For a few hours, I am out of the scope of Whats-Their-Names. They who shall not be named. I walk and walk and climb and climb. Ièm supposed to be able to see Martinique from the top of the mountain but itès raining in that direction, OOOps, IÈve lost my apostrophy, and have been given some French letter. Ièm not sure how to stop this.

I leave the park happier than I have been the whole time in the Caribbean. Despite the fort and the guns and the boys with their toys emphasis of the park.

I leave the park and see three people on the beach next to a dinghy. I chat. They are of all things, anchored two miles away, right next to Jolly F. So they bring me back.

They are normal! Why canèt I be crewing with themÉ