Day Five....

Day Five.  

Today we were not naked. And we were not afraid.  Just alone.  Except for the mosquitoes.  The generator doesn't work.  Our solar charger broke.  We lost our wifi signal.  The gas station is out of gas.  No ice at the store.  A pretty hot day made working on the villa repair list extra tiring.  We need two new windows, a new roof and replacement gutters but without parts we could not do much more than paint and clean.  A short hike to a secluded bay sounded like a good way to cool off so we packed our gear and headed to a beach. 

The hike was a familiar one but because of the storm damage to trees the aggressive growth of low plant life encroached eerily on the footpath.  Fewer hikers over the last two months meant lots more weeds.  Thorny Catch an' Keep grabbed at our legs.  Fallen prickly cactus and pieces of Monkey No Climb littered our trail.  National Park Service volunteers had cleared the fallen trees but the growing grasses lining the trail were now six feet high and thick.  Thankfully there are no snakes on the island but I would not have been surprised to see a lion jump out at us from the surrounding thicket.  We plodded onward sweating from the humidity and swatting at bugs gnawing on our necks.  To our right wild pineapples sprouted.  To our left a tree branch tied with a red ribbon with the words "killer tree" and a skull with crossbones warned us to think about turning back.  We ducked under another fallen tree and climbed down a rocky trail to the isolated beach. 

This had been a thin white sandy beach with coconut palm trees providing shade. We mournfully stepped over those same palm trees now lying on their sides sad and lifeless and scanned the now rocky beach for signs of life.  We were alone. 

Plunging into the sparkling water we snorkeled over the traumatized reef.  A couple of territorial lion fish hid under a ledge terrorizing and eating our harmless baby reef fish.  Lion fish quills are beautiful but poisonous so we kept our distance, noted our location relative to the beach and made a mental note to report these two criminals to the National Park Ranger office.  They will send out divers to spear the fish and keep them from doing any further damage to our fragile reef ecosystem.   A school of needlenose fish threaded past us.  A large barracuda appeared beside us like Batman, then disappeared just as suddenly.  Surfacing beside us for its obligatory three gulps of air, a big sea turtle said a big hello then retreated to the safety of its sea fans below.   Some parts of the reef looked just fine. 

On our walk back along the water's edge we dodged boulders from a recent rock slide.  We detoured around two massive boats deposited on the rocks completely out of the water by the hurricane's huge storm surge.  We recognized one of the boats as the sailboat we had enjoyed our first St. John cruise on nearly ten years ago.  An octopus startled us in the shallows siphoning and squirting water as he charged us, angry that we had interrupted his search for food.  He grabbed a rock and tried to disguise himself without success so charged us again.  He grabbed another rock.  A terrified crab scurried out of the water at our feet, claws extended and ready to pinch should we interfere with his escape from the hungry octopus.  A small lemon shark swam over to investigate all the commotion.  We laughed at this collection of silly sea predators behaving badly at our feet and visible to us from the safety of dry land. 

A tropical rain shower blew in quickly, thunder echoing between the green hillsides, its droplets stinging our skin and pushing us back along the trail.  We crossed a small stream that had not been there before the rain started.  A bashful egret took wing while a brave heron just stared at us stoically.  Two frigates soared high above us.  A mile later we arrived at our jeep and looking back where we had been we were graced with a full rainbow. 

God blesses this place.