We headed back to North Bimini by dinghy late this morning with three things in mind. First we walked north to pick up some fresh-baked coconut bread from Nate's. There is nothing like Bahamian bread and I have been looking forward to upgrading my spinach wraps and rice cakes for a couple of meals. We then began to circle back south, passing many places we remembered well from last year. It was refreshing to see several buildings along the beach under construction. An older local gentleman stopped us to express his concern about "money" coming in at the detriment of the natives. We chatted a while and learned his sister went to Virginia Union in Richmond. Small world. The area known as Radio Beach is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. It is easy to see why investors have chosen this area. The blues of the water resemble a softly, blended watercolor painting.
We continued south and revisited the wreck of the Gallant Lady, resting against the rocks. This small freighter out of Belize crashed on the shore during Hurricane Mitch back in 1997. The mass of its rusty skeleton has shrunk considerably from what we observed last year. The remaining steel heaves and relaxes in time with the surf. The surrounding rock has taken on a rusty stain as the metal is eaten away by the saltwater. Our biggest disappointment of the day was discovering that the Bimini Craft Market was closed. Workers were out in force giving the brightly colored buildings and benches a fresh coat of paint in preparation for their upcoming spring break visitors. We found no paradise there today. Back to our dinghy at the Bimini Big Game Club, we stopped in for lunch. We appreciate being able to tie up there and the least we can do is grab a bite or beverage. We each had thick mahi filets, prepared differently, but both delicious. As we were eating on the deck, clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. We scooted back to the marina through increasing chop, but stayed mostly dry. I tried to read a bit outside, but got chased in several times by quick little showers that eventually cleared out in time for my late afternoon along the beach. Today there were many tracks of footprints (and paw prints) up high in the sand. I prefer a path ankle-deep right at the edge of the water where I'm able to feel the warm water and the gentle undertow of each retreating wave.
For over an hour, I had the beach all to myself. As I looked back from whence I had come, there was no trail of footprints. Does that imply that I was never there or had no impact? Why do I prefer to walk in stealth mode? Way too much thinking led me to contemplate Footprints in the Sand, leave only footprints, footprints/paw prints on your heart, carbon footprint, and following in footprints/footsteps ... all as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. When I made my way back to the marina, I met up with Dieter who was bobbing in the surf while his wife, dog, and another couple (who just happened to be Gold Loopers) were seated on the sand watching the sunset. A great conversation ensued as we compared notes and experiences on boating and travel. He is from Heidelberg and lives in Garmisch, two of my favorite spots in Germany. From our shared experiences, I was reminded that I have been very fortunate to leave my footprints in many places, if only for a fleeting moment.
We continued south and revisited the wreck of the Gallant Lady, resting against the rocks. This small freighter out of Belize crashed on the shore during Hurricane Mitch back in 1997. The mass of its rusty skeleton has shrunk considerably from what we observed last year. The remaining steel heaves and relaxes in time with the surf. The surrounding rock has taken on a rusty stain as the metal is eaten away by the saltwater. Our biggest disappointment of the day was discovering that the Bimini Craft Market was closed. Workers were out in force giving the brightly colored buildings and benches a fresh coat of paint in preparation for their upcoming spring break visitors. We found no paradise there today. Back to our dinghy at the Bimini Big Game Club, we stopped in for lunch. We appreciate being able to tie up there and the least we can do is grab a bite or beverage. We each had thick mahi filets, prepared differently, but both delicious. As we were eating on the deck, clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. We scooted back to the marina through increasing chop, but stayed mostly dry. I tried to read a bit outside, but got chased in several times by quick little showers that eventually cleared out in time for my late afternoon along the beach. Today there were many tracks of footprints (and paw prints) up high in the sand. I prefer a path ankle-deep right at the edge of the water where I'm able to feel the warm water and the gentle undertow of each retreating wave.
For over an hour, I had the beach all to myself. As I looked back from whence I had come, there was no trail of footprints. Does that imply that I was never there or had no impact? Why do I prefer to walk in stealth mode? Way too much thinking led me to contemplate Footprints in the Sand, leave only footprints, footprints/paw prints on your heart, carbon footprint, and following in footprints/footsteps ... all as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. When I made my way back to the marina, I met up with Dieter who was bobbing in the surf while his wife, dog, and another couple (who just happened to be Gold Loopers) were seated on the sand watching the sunset. A great conversation ensued as we compared notes and experiences on boating and travel. He is from Heidelberg and lives in Garmisch, two of my favorite spots in Germany. From our shared experiences, I was reminded that I have been very fortunate to leave my footprints in many places, if only for a fleeting moment.
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