a real SCUBA dude -------------- now!

Ahem! One of my few faithful readers (DawGmanStaR?) has politely questioned my whereabouts, so without being unseasonably affected (afflicted?) I reply with an update into my intriguing blissful observant life. Firstly, happily, I have been on holidays... away from the terminally unwell people at the coff-ice!

And so it goes - a week in the Caribbean with sunshine, sand, 3 lovely sisters from Scarboro, Murray, Martha and family, and an inventively scorching fellow nick-named Ziggy (aka POPS!). There was also a gaggle of older party-ers, one of whom, shockingly, was / is the cousin of a good friend from Midland. But now, not to be dismissive of all the above character, I must confess that the most shining moments of this trip belonged underwater with my French SCUBA instructor Celine, tres belle, red bikini, et tres patient... it being my first time made it all the more entertaining, pellucid, salient! SO what did I sea (ha ha ha) at the bottom of the reef? Well there was a shipwreck, rusty cannons and all, there were lots of little fishies, well-schooled and stripey, a funky spiky sponge that Celine stuck to my palm, and even an octopus crouching within a small crevasse. I tried to take a picture of said mollusk however I only caught a glimpse of Celine's arm, ummm, lovely instructor, isn't that a rip in your wetsuit? ----- well done. All in all, I suspect, I did pretty darn good down in the stuff of the deep, in the weightless foreverland... okay so it was only 40 feet and it wasn't that high-pressured, but I did receive a fancy certificate and a nasty ear-infection for my effort, which was probably my own fault since I knew I had a little sinus issue when I went. Live and learn I suppose, but still I recommend taking to the sea for anyone who has never done so (and is not afraid of open water).

Another exhilirating happening was a day cruising the island of SABA, the Unspoiled Queen of the Caribbean, although I suspect there may be private islands (like Richard Branson's of Virgin fame) where things are even less blemished. Returning to SABA ---- which is located just west of St. Eustasius and Nevis, and is home to about 1500 people -- it has one viable port, under re-construction, from which there is one main road and a seemingly endless narrow climb, the vehicle coming up has the right of way, they say, and once beyond that first hill there, still, isn't a flat spot in sight. And though a section of The road that couldn't be built, as they call it, is relatively smooth, the only true level area is at the oh so precipitous airport, where cliffs welcome both ends of the runway. Naturally this place is called Flat Point!

The tour of the island was quaint, elaborate, and somewhat meandering --- Vince was a decent friendly fellow, taxi driver / guide, a Saban (or is it a Saber?) all his life, seemed to enjoy talking about plants, this is breadfruit, and this a ***** tree, He also enojoyed picking up his wife, then dropping her, and the groceries, at home. It's too bad we never took a picture of him or Paula from Detroit (our touring companion), or that I didn't even think about it. Too bad we never got a picture of the Medical School either, or the Glassblower where certain splendid presents were bought. Now all that is either charming or cute but I'd have to say the best part of the whole day was hiking to the top of Scenic Mountain, approximately 890 m (over 3500 feet) and the highest point in the Kingdom of the Netherlands... they say there are only 10-15 days a year when the mountaintop is in clear view, but this day couldn't have been better. From the top I could easily see all the islands nearby, even St. Martin! Absolutely brilliant!!! It was supposed to take about 50 minutes from where I started to get to the peak, however I used it as a chance for a workout, it was humid and sunny and the rainforest became harsher the higher up I went but still I managed to run, dash, jump, to the peak in less than half an hour. Well Done SCUBA Dude!! On the way I passed a few people going up who had started the climb a little earlier, a couple from Germany (how much farther?), a pleasant steady climber from Ohio (Michelle, I think her name was), an even-keeled older fellow who wasn't sure how far up he should go? I said, it's probably only going to get harder...

Then again, I'd have to say coming down was the hardest part. Always is, allons-y. The taxi's leaving at 1330, and I wouldn't want to miss lunch. Win, win, wind, warm breeze, I remember.