Cay Caulker
With Robin off to Mexico for two weeks, I made the small island town of Cay Caulker my home. Coyote rode at anchor 300 yards off the west shore and I quickly developed a daily pattern. I’d wake at 4am, have papaya and coffee and read until the sky just lightens. The sunrise would receive close attention, and be fabulous without fail. Fifteen minutes meditation and some stretches. Then a big breakfast, and an hour doing boat chores while watching the bay come awake. Sailing fishing boats with stacks of canoes on their decks sail out, followed by a few dive boats. The island is surrounded by brilliant blues, crowned in frenzied green. There are no paved roads or cars. Walkers and bicycles rule the sand streets, while golf carts ease by. Mid-morning, I’d grab my netbook and dinghy to town. Walk to the bike rental and grab Big Black, my tall fat- tired single speed with basket, and ride for an hour and a half around the beach trails and up and down village streets. Everyone wishes everyone good morning and good day, polite in the British manner. I’d make my way to CyberCafe and spend an hour downloading twenty or so articles and blogs that I follow: George Ure, Cliff High, Jim Willie, Matt Simmons, Zero Hedge, Alternet, Huffington Post, Rense, Financialsense, and many others, from as many angles as possible. What is going on in the world as empires fall, climate wobbles wildly, resources deplete, economies collapse? Illusions crumble, the vast horde of sheeple stir, the vast state security apparatuses respond with increasing ruthless exploitation of every technological and propaganda tool science gives them to maintain and increase control? Bobbing and weaving, jucking with the rhythm, being light of foot while dancing to the the new lyric…what else can we do? Netbook packed with possible clues, I’d soak up a bit of local life in any one of many colorful, small, inexpensive resturants. Lunch in the open air. Watch the white trickle of pierced and tatted youth and hip grandparents flow by, while wild rasta ganga guys, latino cashew hawkers, mayan artfact sellers, and bar-b-que chicken artists cast their nets,all relaxed and low key.Then back to Coyote for an hour of paddling the kayak or snorkeling the blue waters of the barrier reef. Back on Coyote, I nap for an hour, then study my downloads until late afternoon light dinner, sunset observation, meditation, visiting with other cruisers, and usually early to bed. I’m sure this is boring to read about. Hanging out in a perfect climate, in a perfectly beautiful setting, in a small, quiet town. And occasionally, I did get bored, but all it took was for for me to open my eyes and look around at the ongoing, complex natural display, and boredom would quickly become wonder. ~Fred~
