catching up, but not the coming-home day

Our 2pm snorkel was magnificent, though also sad since it was our last time snorkeling on this trip. We went to a different part of the reef and I saw this very l-o-n-g fish go by. I pointed it out to Marc, and he put his arm out to stop me, like you do when your kid is in the front seat and you have to slam on the brakes. I asked him later about it, and he said it was a barracuda. (barracuda! a la Heart, if you're old enough to know.) Not our photo below, but it looked like this:


We were at a part of the reef that drops off to a great depth on the outside - I didn't look because it was very hard to see the bottom, but Marc liked to dive down and poke along the reef, looking closely at fish and coral. Me, I stay near the surface of the water, and always thrilled a little to watch him dive.

We saw this very amazing fish, all black but with the strangest fins, top and bottom. I don't even know how to describe them - I hope this is enough to remind me. But the schools of fish, my favorite of course, were so so beautiful. There was an enormous school of velvety blue-purple fish, I'll bet there were 80 of them altogether. They moved like a flock of birds moves, all at once together shifting here and there, diving down and picking the coral, darting to the left or right. I followed them as long as I could, and nearly cried inside my snorkel mask for the beauty. It's one of those visual moments I'll always remember.

As before, we were the last people back on the boat; we just didn't want to stop. We lay in the sun to dry off, then showered to get the salt out of our hair (kind of hard, since the water is very soft and doesn't get the shampoo out). Marc went back into West End to take replacement photos for the ones I screwed up earlier in the morning, while I read. Here, West End:

walking into West End

the main drag

Tong's - a Thai restaurant

the far end of the main drag

Foster's, a bar and restaurant that always made us laugh because of the
dilapidated look. It reminded me of the entire town of Sweethaven
in the movie Popeye.

For our last dinner, we ate at Eagle Ray's, which is named for the eagle ray - not a guy named Eagle Ray. While we were eating, everyone at the table next to ours, plus the waiter, dashed to the railing and pointed out an eagle ray cruising past. Even though it was dark, we could see the darker shape gliding past us, under water. Of course, we have no way of knowing if it was actually an eagle ray (and note, I don't even know exactly what kind of ray that is), but it was at least some kind of ray, with a very long tail. Do you call those things tails? Stingers. Whatever. Here's Eagle Ray's:

You may think, at a quick glance, that it looks like Foster's but it's not dilapidated and falling apart. We ate on that back deck, and since there never was a visible moon the entire time we were there, it was quite dark. Our food was great, as always, and the music was 1970s, lots of Barry White and Dr Hook; in fact, I can't get the song "Sylvia" out of my head. ("Sylvia's mother says, Sylvia's busy, too busy to come to the phone ... And the operator says, 40 cents more For the next 3 minutes, Ple-ease Mrs Avery, I just gotta talk to her, I'll only keep her a while. Please Mrs Avery, I just wanna tell 'er goodbye")

And here's a photo we found of an eagle ray - I think it really was an eagle ray we saw, given the really long tail thingy:


On our last morning, we ate coconut bread french toast at the Lobster Pot, as planned, and it was absolutely delicious, as we knew it would be. I miss it already.

Mavis and Dixie

Marc was up very early so he took a walk out on the pier and shot these great pictures that show just how clear the water is. Take a look; he shot these images standing on the pier, shooting down into the water:



He came back to check on me and I was still sleeping hard, so he went out for a snorkel and swim, though the sun kept going behind the clouds. I woke up and watched him swimming along, circling here and there, and just felt so happy.

Our breakfast mission was to walk into West End to find this much raved about place called Mavis and Dixies. All the reviews we have read were unanimous and nearly over the top, raving about the food and claiming the reviewers only want to eat there, they could eat 3 meals a day there, etc. The one to beat, as far as we're concerned, is the sweet little Lobster Pot, but they're closed on Sundays anyway so we ventured into West End to find Mavis and Dixies.

walking into town

The sky was looking heavy and dark, which I noticed but didn't really notice....I was carrying my camera. My really nice and not inexpensive camera, which does not have a case. But we were walking along, letting the water lap over our feet, talking. My shoes are rubbing the skin off between my big and 2nd toe, so I was kind of limping along, but never mind. Mavis and Dixies lured us forward.

Maybe we got the Sunday crew. Maybe the guy who served us was having a rotten day. Maybe they just didn't like the looks of us, that happens. But I was not at all impressed. The guy who served us was sullen and didn't bring what we needed. The menu wasn't all that great, nothing that really made me salivate. I got coconut bread toast and coffee, and Marc ordered banana pancakes and coffee. We sat on the back deck overlooking this little bay, eating our OK breakfast and watching the sky darken:

Several more bites and the rain started falling:

We grabbed our food and went inside the restaurant to wait out the storm.

It didn't last too long, and we were able to get a plastic bag to carry the camera in.

For those of you prone to schadenfreude, this is the 2nd day in a row (of our 2 days here, so far) with cloudy skies and rain. There is still time to go out snorkeling, time to lie in the sun, etc., it's just not sunny skies all the time. As far as I'm concerned, that's good because it lets me off the hook from feeling guilty when I want to just lie in the hammock and read or nap. I couldn't be snorkeling anyway, might as well snooze.

West End and West Wing

Last night we walked into the village of West End, maybe 3/4 of a mile down the beach. The sand is incredibly soft and rock/shell free. Right inside the surf there are sharp little coral bits, inevitable near a living coral reef, but you can walk barefoot in the sand - and everyone does - without having to watch where you're going. This is really the most beautiful beach. So we went into West End for dinner, looking for a highly-recommended place called Pura Vida. Like so many other things here, it's associated with a dive center in some way. We had an extra walk, since we got to the village and remembered that we had left the money in our room, so we had to walk back. No bother. The night air was sweet, the sand was soft, and the walk felt so good.

By the time we got to the restaurant, we were pretty hungry. These fantastic-looking pizzas kept coming out of the kitchen, so we decided to order a pepperoni pizza with onions. Marc had a view of the kitchen, somewhat unfortunately, because he saw the woman who was making our pizza. She had a huge belly and a too-small t-shirt that didn't come near to covering it, and a huge rear end with a red skirt just managing to cover it. Her belly flopped on the table as she rolled out the dough. Glad I didn't see that. And the pizza peel just leaned against the wall like a broom, with the edge on the floor. Glad I didn't see that. But the pizza was delicious. One thing we are enjoying about this place is that for the most part, the other tourists are like us, kind of: older, happy, quiet. No rowdy frat boys and girls getting loud and drunk. There are families with small kids and families with teenagers.

Back to the hotel along the pitch-dark beach, navigating by star light (and the flashlight in my hand). Unless you like to sit in the bar and drink, which we don't, there is nothing really to do after dark unless you entertain yourself. Marc had brought movies and tv episodes to watch on the laptop, so we cuddled in and watched half an episode of West Wing before falling asleep.

Oh, and P.S. What's up with the reputation this place has for mosquitos and sand fleas?! We've experienced much worse mosquitos in Chicago and Texas! I haven't yet met a sand flea, either.