Day 23: I screw up my title by being interesting.

Today's post was going to be titled "This is the way the journey actually ends, not with a bang but with a whimper" because the plan was to go to the beach and do nothing all day.

So I got up (with the sun, one of the perks of sleeping on the balcony) and went back to sleep. Eventually I got up for really, updated my blog, bought an airline ticket and after a while set off for the beach. I swung through the grocery store for breakfast and lunch (a bag of chips that tasted a bit stale.... because they were 6 months past "use by."

I walked to the bus stop, got ADD, and then walked to Condado, the beach for the hotel district. I saw a interesting looking fort that wasn't one of the two I'd previously toured and set off up the beach / beach street to find it. And that's when I passed a 10 floor hotel... with bricked over doors. I walked around back just to check, and, well, one thing lead to another, and I found myself in the penthouse, with no windows to block the breeze and no railings on the balcony. I got some great shots of the surrounding area, but not many showing the height of it since I didn't want to be too obvious to the people in the real hotel next door. Especially since I had already paid for a plane ticket and my mom would kill me.

I left without incident (because I am a ninja), wandered through the real hotel (and out past the security guard designed to keep people like me from getting in), and found the fort. It was right on the edge of Old San Juan, so after crossing the bridge to the island, walking past but not up a tower crane with poor security, I finally got to the fort-thing only to find its gated AND guarded. Boo. Hiss.

I got the most expense-dense cab ride of my life (12$ for 1.5 miles, which is what happens when taxis charge by the zone and they fall just wrong) and went to the sea-glass beach! I love sea glass much more than I should. So I spent... two hours walking up and down the beach, reading a bit here and there. AND I FOUND SOME PURPLEish. Like I said, more than I should. Then I wandered through Old San Juan, went back to my cemetary-wall-reading spot (Little girl: "Este es un telefono grande"), and ended up at dinner in the same place I ate last time. For no good reason except Italian is hard to find down here.

After dinner I looked for more seaglass until sunset ruined my fun and caught a taxi back to the hostel. I think a few of us are going out, so maybe there will be more to report. Update: it's like herding cats and we ended up watching youtube videos instead.

Day 22: This is the way the journey ends, not with a whimper but with a bang.

After a late-night "They have bedbugs" email from my mom, I spent last night sleeping on top of the covers, lights on, waking up every hour or so to check if the dirt flecks around me had legs. When I finally woke up, the feeling that I was nearing the end of my journey was stronger than ever, but there was a ferry to Jost Van Dyke and back every hour... so I decided to end strong. I left my suitcase with the Jolly Roger Inn, walked to the ferry, and caught a boat out to the island.

It started off well, riding on the back of the boat, admiring the harbor and spotting the rock that stymied my round-the-coast hike... but then the wind kicked up, which kicked the waves up, and in perfect synergy the bowspray blew back onto the rear deck with every wave. I, and the other tourists were toughing it out until a particularly drenching burst of water, at which point the girls went in and the guys hung out just behind the cabin

There's two main beaches on JVD, Great Harbor and White Bay. We were dropped off in Great Harbor, and I walked the short (but hilly) hike to White Bay for breakfast/lunch. Amazingly, with each island I visit the water gets even more aquamarine and even more vibrant. I wandered along to a bar that had a good sandwiches and chatted with old tourists while I ate. Turns out I chose the Soggy Dollar bar, which is somewhat famous in these parts - though he didn't know which island it was on the St Croix, the guy who saved me from walking into the ghetto told me about it. The bartender was pretty cool, he had a dozen holsters (paring knife, leatherman, camera, flashlight? pens... and I don't know what else) on his belt, and a marlinspike around his neck.

Then I hiked and boated back to Tortola (and took this picture: Mmm, dieselwater) got my stuff, caught another ferry back to Charlotte Amalie (where they had five cruise ships docked), and then caught a 7pm flight back to San Juan (the only ticket available). Instead of spending $350 dollars on a ticket from Tortola, I'm spending 370$ all told on flights, taxis, and boats... but its so much more fun this way.

Our plane was a Cessna 402, a little 10 seater (including the pilot). I got an exit row! Which doesn't really make any difference. That's two wasted exit row seats in a row. Anyways, the flight was beautiful, and I learned that cruise ships - at night - look fantastic from the air. Everything the old gambling paddleboats tried to be, only with a bit more tact. The best description would be floating, glowing jewelry boxes.

In San Juan I caught a cab to my hostel. The cabbie didn't know where it was exactly, but I was prepared and had my GPS all fired up for just this eventuality. The hostel was full! A long stretch from the 3 guests last time. Luckily, the owner offered to let me crash on a couch and pay half price, a sweet deal.

Then I hung out with the other people - mostly Canadians - in the hostel. We drank a few beers, went out to a pool hall till it closed, split a bottle of wine and danced in a liquor store / bar crossover shop (I avoided it when I could, and thankfully I had a bit of swing for when I couldn't), and smoked cigars in lawn chairs outside on the street with locals till about 3am. It was great.

We ended the night with a short climb and a great view from the top of a parking garage. You know, end on a bang and all that:

Day 21: West End

Today I went to the other real "town" on Tortola: West End. I debated ferry vs taxi, but since the ferry didnt offer a price to just West End, and the cabbie came down on his fare, I decided to just go for it.

I booked a cheap room at the Jolly Roger Inn, and saved $10 by forgoing AC and a private bath. After checking in I replaced all the unnecessary things in my pack with climbing gear and set off on the day's adveture. The goal was to visit Smuggler's Cove, as the locals call it, or Lower Belmont Bay, as Google unimaginatively puts it.

So I set off on the road that I thought ran around the island, out to the westernmost point and up to cover... but the road disappeared. No problem, I continued on among the boulders, liking the plan more and more as I had to walk less and scramble - even climb - across the shore. This ended the same way over-water traversals always end: with a wet boot. But I didn't roll my ankle (it tried) jumping/sliding off the rock face, into a oncoming wave, so I feel its a fair trade.

I climbed/hiked back up the beach to a private dock, which I followed up the cliffs
to a driveway, which was about 20' horizontally and at least triple that vertically down to the opposite coast. I hiked out the driveway, over some terrible roads, and eventually made it to Smuggler's Cove, only to find beach-chair sellers and other people on what was supposed to be my private beach. So I set off for Gun Point, the rocky promontory on the west edge of the bay, figuring I should at least have that to myself.

I did. I ate lunch in a large cleft overlooking the cove, checking to make sure the ground beneath was dry and thus out of any splash-zone, and then set off to examine the point itself. I clambered out onto a corner to watch the waves crash, but neglected to doublecheck that I was standing on dry rocks. A large wave later, in less dry shorts, I set off up the rock to get a more comfortable view.


From the higher vantage point I saw a dry seat-shaped area that would make a perfect spot to read and watch the waves clash against the rocks. I set up an anchor and rappelled down. Fun, but even more fun was when I swung over a bit to rappel out over the crashing waves. I sat down and read until ADHD got the better of me, and then I set off to check out the cave at sea-level that was shooting water 20' into the air with every wave.

Luckily, the rocks were in layers, upthrust from the earth, and arrainged so that there were plentiful handholds, bomber jugs we'd call them in the climbing world. Unluckily, not all of them could be trusted. So each handhold, foothold had to be tested, and when found lacking, the rock tossed into the sea. And at 30' up over crashing waves, chucking a rock the size of a dictionary into the waves is enough to give a tinge of vertigo. I crossed over a rift, clipped out from my line, and set off over the wave-shooter, before carefully downclimbing.

You couldn't see any clearer from over here. But you could hear better, as there were two vents the size of letter-boxes that wend their way down to the same chamber that was geysering water out into the ocean. It sounded exactly as if a Gargantuan Walrus was snorting. If you ever go to BVI you really must go check it out.

I climbed even more cautiously back, and then set off to shortcut over the island back to West End. Here you can see it on a map:Map. One can draw two main conclusions from this map.
1) My gps doesn't work out here. As evidenced by my "short cut" back.
2) I'm terrible at hating hiking. 120M = almost 400 ft elevation change.

On my way back down into West End, I saw a boat somewhat beached and the wheels started turning...

I changed, rested, read, and then went to dinner on the water: a pizza burger and a bottle of Carib Beer. Carib is like a cheap Corona. Not bad, really. a pizza burger is a hamburger patty on garlic bread with cheese and sauce on top. Worth trying, not bad, but not what I was expecting... not that I expected anything. It was more a WTFMATE-lets-try-it than a "that sounds good" decision.

After dinner I set out to add another island to my creative total, for islands that pretend to be Islands. But I grabbed my bag just in case. And then, before I even got to the pseudo-island, there was a missing section of fence into the shipyard. Just asking for it AND a hole that big means no dogs. Yessss. So I screwed up my nerves and went for it.

Now I know why there are so many tales about ghost ships. Because empty boats at night are creepy as #%^&. They tilt unnaturally, the wind makes howling noises as it whips through whats left of the rigging... I took a couple pictures, manually adjusting it to look more realistically gloomy. Documentation done, there was nothing left to delay, so I forced myself to venture into the cabin to be able to say that I urbexed a boat. Once inside it felt more natural (well, less unnatural), but there was still no way I was going below decks with just a LED flashlight. Maybe if I had a maglight. And a machete.

Mission accomplished, I bailed back down the ladder lashed to the side of the boat and finished my trek to Frenchman's Cay. Today was a productive day.

Day 20: Around Tortola

I spent the day touring the island and reading at Brandywine Bay. Details to come when the mosquitos aren't out near the only free wifi on the island.

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There are certain upsides to stopping in a cruise-ship-town, including the fact that you can always find a group to split a cabbie tour of the island. So I walked down to the massive pier with a skyscraper docked next to it, and allowed myself to be herded to a tour bus after doublechecking that they were saying fifteeN and not fifty. In islander they sound nigh-identical.

The tour buses are f350/f450 superduties with benches and a canopy on the back and a PA system in the front. They have 25 seats and fit "any number of people" - but I sat up front with the driver, where you get a commentary with the commentary.

The tour was good, we took the ridge road so we had great views of most the bays on the island, and all the other islands - which he pointed out and told us fun facts. Like beef island, where pirates would steal cows until the woman who owned the cows invited them all in for arsenic tea.

We saw the highest point on the island, 1780 feet (too far to hike, I decided) and stopped at Cane Garden Bay - one of the nicest beaches on the island. Well, it would have been except for the fact that it was carpeted with people. I found a empty spot out of the rain that found us right as we got off the bus, and had lunch.

In the afternoon, I caught a publico to Brandywine Bay, a small empty bay 4 miles up from town. It was nice, much better than Cane Garden. I sat in some wet sand (oops), finished my book, and watched the locals race RC boats.

Back in town, I finally found a wifi hotspot, caught up on email, and then got attacked by mosquitos... So I had dinner in a pub and called it a night.

Day 19: Brice Skips the Country

,Today I found someone even less comfortable with me not knowing where I'm staying than my mom is: Customs agents. I got up early (enough to get the continental breakfast*), and caught a "Fast Ferry" (30ish knots?) to Tortola, one of the British Virgin Islands.

I think I like the British Virgin Islands, even though they speak an even more eclectic mix of languages. The plants are even nicer here, and the fact that it was cloudy all afternoon made it beautiful out. I checked in to a hotel recommended to me by a cabby, wandered most of Road Town, and had a late lunch*. After reading a while on the shore of the bay (and watching dozen types of fish that had congregated where the stream drained into the harbor). I wandered up the shore line, out of Road Town.

Since it's Easter, most everything is closed, but I still got to see a few neat-looking hotel complexes and the (somewhat depressing) swim-with-dolphins center. Eventually I got to the sea, where you can see several other members of the BVI. If you ever look at it on a map, it's amazing how many there are. After reading on the shoreline I decided to go find dinner*, and found the oldest restaurant on the Island, built on the ruins of a fort taken over by the English from the Dutch in 1666. Good lasanga, and a good view of the harbor.

Then I went for a swim in the somewhat-dirty (cabbies always know the cheapest hotels), showered off the pool-water, and decided to crash for the night.

*Look Ray, 3 meals! For the first time this vacation, but still, I did it!

Day 18: St. Thomas

A little too built up, but a great jumping off point. Pics and the difference between PR and VI ferries as soon as they dont want me to pay for internet.

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I got up, almost walked into the projects, turned around, and got onto the ferry to St John. The VI ferries are unsubsidized, so it was a little different. Some of the diferences: AC, an extra hull, 15 more knots, and 48 extra dollars. But it was smooth enough to read, so it was totally worth it. I did go outside for a little bit, made a girl scream (by spotting some dolphins, what did you think?), and went back in.

In St Thomas I went to the Galleon House, and was rewarded yet again for waiting till the last minute. I ended up getting a bayview room at just over the hostel rate. Take that, conventional wisdom. Then I collapsed onto my bed because it is oppressively hot down here. I, um, read somemore. And learned things. Things like: If I replace meals with honey roasted peanuts they will be gone in 18 hours. Freezing yourself in Carbonite is a viable escape from deadly explosions... you know, useful things.

After it cooled down a bit, I headed out to go to Blackbeards Castle! Its not actually Blackbeard's castle, its a old observation tower that's they turned into a tourist trap... that was closed today. Maybe becaue it's Saturday? Yeah, I dunno. AND it was up the historical "99 steps" - an odd name for 103 stairs. They built it out of bricks the Dane's brought over as ballast. Other than that, it's nothing special. To get from the street to (the restaurant to the pool to reception to) my room is 93 steps up the same hill.

Then I went to go look at the old fort... also closed. (Y'all should be impressed, I've not jumped so many fences recently) and gave up walking in the heat. I settled down in the park to read and watch the homeless guys feed pigeons/chickens. I saw two pigeons court (Tip to guys: make your neck fat, cut them off whenever they walk anywhere, then puke on them) and saw one chick chase its brother for an hour, intent on stealing the bug the former had caught. The hen just watched.

I walked through some (overpriced) stores, checked out a few restaurants, and went back to my room to shower and change before heading out to dinner. I set off to eat some dead cow. It's good to have achievable goals. Dinner was during happy hour, which means they doubled my beer... and I started planning a soap-box podracer, and then podracer-type jet-engines for a soapbox cart. You know, achievable goals and all that.

Day 17: St Croix

I got up, searched for a new hotel, and found the Comanche Club. Not only was it cheaper, it was also just across the street. When I saw the elevator was a cage-type and roped off at that, I knew I found a place to stay, regardless of the rate the receptionist quoted. That it was well less than what the internet said, even after taxes and fees, was just icing on the cake. She made up for it by giving me and my heavy bag a room on the fourth floor.

Then I went out and explored the old dutch fort. It was odd seeing cannons on only one of two water-facing sides, but when you look at the bay, reefs limit entrance of anything large than a canoe to one narrow channel. Reading up on it, it was more to protect against slave uprisings than foriegn invaders and/or pirates. A rasta went out to the lawn to sing easter songs while I visited the old church and scale-house, a nice touch you'll only find in the Caribbean.

Then I caught a cab and asked for the Cruzan Rum distillery. The cabbie reminded me it was Good Friday (one of my favorite holidays) and that everything's closed. Tip 42 for carribean exploration: avoid Easter by a week. So I went to the hotel to clean the bay out of my clothes, read, read, went to late lunch with Qui-Gon, read, and then set off for my other planned adventure for the day.

I caught a cab to Cane Garden Bay, dropped off on someones driveway. What can I say? They had an old sugarmill in their yard. I cut across the edge of their property to the beach, where I took a few pictures of the oil refinery, realized I forgot my kindle, and read tourist magazines waiting for sunset. After a while I headed back to the sugar mill ruins and took pictures as the sky darkened further and further, trying to get a good picture of the old windmill, the steam vent, and the volatiles flames all at the same time. It didn't work, but I got a few sweet pictures elsewhere, then set off to get a different angle of the refinery. I ended up walking a mile and a half across the side and front of the plant, not even covering the whole of it. The refinery is huge. I ducked into a trucking yard, an open gate, and the corporate office visitor lot to get some pictures. Even though a few spots were begging for a run for the fences, I decided that the triple-threat of homeland security, immigration police, and corporate security made it not worth trying.

I walked back to the highway, meaning to catch a cab, but there were none being caught.... so I ended up finally walking coast-to-coast on a state, from the surf by the refinery to the docks in Christiansted.

Day 16: Adios Puerto Rio

Today I got up, packed up (with the exception of my cell charger ((the nice thing about losing things is my suitcase packs easier)) ), and caught a taxi to the airport. I relish being able to walk into an airport and asking for any flight out of the state. I found a flight to St Croix late in the afternoon, so I spent the day lounging around watching planes, watching TV on my laptop, and reading. Really not a bad way to spend a day, though my butt was sore by the end of it... which probably had as much to do with my day biking as my day reading.

The plane was a 21 seater (7 rows of 1+2), which makes it the largest I've been on since I got to San Juan. We took off really quick too, I was a little surprised when the pilots didn't go straight to full power when we got to the runway, and were adjusting things and preparing notes as we dawdled along, but then they pinned the throttle (both of them did it... Any ideas on that Pepper?) and we were took off so fast we could have used a parking lot with no problems.

The flight was quick - 25 minutes - and was almost a tour of Vieques as well. I saw Mosquito Pier (which looked shorter than it felt), the road I used to cross the island (which looked flatter than it felt), and even the exact rocks I read on yesterday (more comfortable than they felt). Initial impressions: It looks like a cleaner Puerto Rico, they have oil refineries. I love oil refineries. And just because they don't speak Spanish doesn't mean they speak English.

Had a nice dinner and a glass of the least-white white zin I've ever seen at the hotel Ray decided I should visit, and finally got some good internets.

Day 15: Bio Bay

I spent most of the day RiNaEP, but kayaked out into the beautiful shimmering bioluminescent bay this evening. Bad pictures and full details to come.

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This morning it rained, so I stayed in, had some breakfast, and watched a movie (thanks Jerms!). Sort of a vacation-from-vacation.

Then I decided to do a short hike, and went out to Cayo de Tierra (Isle of Earth, as oppose to Cayo de Afuera, Island of Overthere - its disconnected brother), a small island connected to Esperanza by a land bridge. About half-way around the trails dry up, and it turns into scrambling around the island. Needless to say, I loved it. The tide-pools were full of life, including as many sea-urchins as was geometrically possible and these little bumblebee fish. A few hundred feet later and the rocks changed, and if it weren't for the palm trees in the background I could have been convinced it were New Zealand.

I found an almost comfortable, slightly shaded section of coral and spent my afternoon reading. As the sun got lower and it cooled off, I traded in an out of my shade to a sun-litBy25' promentory trying (failing) to de-farmify my farmers tan. Only when I set off again down some ugly scree did I realize the promontory I draped myself over was cantilevered - Lion King style - over the surf.

On my way back into town I signed up for a Mosquito Bay "Bio Bay" tour, were you can kayak out on the bioluminescent bay. Microscopic dinoflagellates shoot lightning-bug chemicals in the water when they are disturbed, causing a glow whereever you touch the water. It sounded cool, everyone said you had to do it, and moonrise was finally late enough. I went back to my house, made too much spaghetti, and came back down for the tour.

The van was ancient, with a swarm of gnats living in it, ghetto upholstery, and barely-there headlights. Which was part of the fun. A half-hour after I was told to arrive a few other people showed up, then we drove around to a few hotels before heading out of town and down a terrible road to the put-in point. Trees scraped both windows as it lurched over various ruts. The woman next to me had a better view out the front window, and every so often she would just close her eyes.

Through a camera, the bay was disappointing. You'd need to shoot video at 20,000 iso (for comparison, normal is 400, and the most my camera can handle is 1600) to do it justice. Through eyes, though, the bay exceeded every expectation. I got my own canoe since I have no friends, and we set out doing our best to "Follow the green glowstick." At first, as your eyes are still adjusting from the flashlights and headlights, you mistake the glow for an abnormal reflection in your wake, but as your eyes get more sensitive you realize you can make out little shimmers throughout, and that it's brighter than the stars (of which there are a million. I kept looking for sattelites and saw a falling star, so make that 999,999 instead). Every time you dip your paddle there's a bloom of blue, and if you follow another kayak there's a diffused glow. And as impressive as it was under the water, it was that much more impressive on the surface of the water, where every glow was like a brilliant spark. The water dripping off the paddle would create little starbursts. I never grew tired of splashing just a few drops; they'd glow slightly in the air and then in landing set off a fireworks of light.

We got out to one of the best locations in the bay and the guides tied our kayaks together. I was expecting to be told how wonderful and fragile the ecosystem is and took out my camera (the only thing in my rainproof backpack, and tied in a plastic bag inside that) to take some pictures. But then a particularly large man in a particularly leaky kayak fell in, and we realized this is where we could swim. I took a few pictures, enough that you can get a feel for the color of it, if not the intensity or the pinpoint nature of the surface lights.

As I was tying up my bag I heard a girl ask her sister "Are you in yet?" "No..." "Well why not?" - Which I feel sums it up pretty well, so I carefully laid my pack in the center of the canoe and slid in, clothes and all. It was fantastic. I said a spontaneous prayer and played in the water for at least half an hour; I kept track of my watch only to compare the glowing of the dial to the glowing of the dinoflagellates... they weere about tied one-on-one, but as a team there was no contest.

So I spent some time being really still... then convulsing octopus-style through the water all at once, clapping under water, and my favorite, squirting water out of my hands, underwater. You could see the currents and eddies as if you'd had radioactive sand in your hand.

When we headed back I was one of the leading kayaks, and we went through a patch even more brilliant than where we swam. The drain-holes at the bottom of the kayak lit up, the bow-wake was a fluttering and coruscating ribbon, and when fish darted - or jumped! - away from the kayaks their path would blossom in the darkness.

On the drive home I was in the back seat, hunched over, jealous of the kid next to me who had between 18" and 8" of headroom; I had between 6" and... less than that. But that ceased to be a problem when we came upon the other van, stalled out in the road. We had been jealous of the other van, what with its lack of upholstery problems, it seems it choose engine problems instead, and wire-rot over dry-rot. As you may remember, this trail had absolutely no clearance to either side, so we were there for the duration. We heard several mutterings about starter motors, a vacationing mechanic got out to help, and eventually we traded drivers and got moving again. Our first driver was very good, something we only realized when the second wove back and forth all over the two-lane road. Not because he had been drinking, but because the steering-wheel had a quarter-turn of play in it. There's a feature you don't get on the 50$ version of this tour.

In short... marvelous, and a beautiful conclusion to my time in Puerto Rico.

Day 14: Ruins Redux, without listening to horses.

I realized that if I was going to spend a few more days in vieques, I should probably find a cheaper place to stay. At my mom's recommendation I checked into Casa de Kathy, a B&B owned by a woman who visited the island in the 80's to protest the military bomb-tests and fell in love with the country. All her rooms were full, but her friend who had a house a few blocks back was out of town and she was renting that as overflow. So I'm not saving as much as I could be, but on the flip side I have an entire house. In fact, I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating spaghetti as I write this.

She was nice, but a little presumptuous. In particular, she told me there aren't daily flights to the VI (There are... anyone have any opinions on St Thomas vs St Croix?) and she told me I don't want to ride a bike to Isabella Segunda.

I only had 40$ cash, she didn't do credit cards, so after a bit of a fuss with paypal we sorted things out (Thanks mom!) - including a days worth of mountain bike rental!

I had been thinking about repeating yesterdays trip, only with more water and without the stupid horse-games. When I saw she had mountain bike rentals, well, that was fate. I lightened my back, reweighted it with 3 qts of water (which I drank 90 of by the time I was finished) and set off.

Yesterdays 2 hour hike was finished in about 45 minutes, which left me plenty of energy to explore yesterdays sugar-mill ruins more throughly. Hiking into the wilderness (but not super-wilderness, like yesterday) buildings began to appear out of of the trees, suddenly and at first surpringly. And always covered with lizards. I though about doing todays post as a lizard-based where's waldo, but they wouldn't stay still for the pictures. The mill were spread over a huge, and slightly disconcerting, area. Oftentimes you would climb a wall only to find yourself on ground level, although there were obvious rooms beneath you. Despite the trees growing out of the roof. I guess when a building lasts 165 years no one will complain when it turns into a hill. Similarly disconcerting were the tunnels below you... every step seemed to question the ground's integrity, but nothing ever gave way. A 165 year old tunnel is, I suppose, a cave.

One of the buildings was trapazoidally shaped and had no doors on any side. I climbed 20 feet up the wall to discover there was no roof, only trees growing up from inside. My guess was it was a cistern, though they had ground-set cisterns already. My favorite building had some boiler-looking things (see picture, guesses welcome) and brickwork arches with an arched ceiling. I'd seen a poorly shot picture hinting at it online and searched the entire ruins for it, and it was worth it. After a few shots of that, and a few further ruins across the road, I got back on my bike and set off for Mosquito Pier, which was only two miles away!

One of those miles was entirely uphill, and terrible; I walked the steepest quarter of it. The other mile was entirely downhill, and awesome; I had to slow down to not pass cars. Mosquito pier was a mile out to a fenced-off military? port, and pretty boring. But mercifully flat, and since I was there I figured I might as well. Then I set off for the only bank on the island, 7 miles away (from the end of the peir) in Isabel II.

There were a few leg-sapping hills, but I made it. Biked up to the fort which was closed today (so it must be a Monday or a Tuesday) - but I saw the walls and the cannons and that looks to be the extent of it. Then I set back off for Esperanza, another 7 miles to complete the square. The first mile had its ups and downs. The second just had ups, but I walked half of it. Then I set off on another mile of slowing-down-not-to-pass-cars and another mile still of coasting. When I slowed down I pulled out my GPS to check and I was still doing high 20's, a fair bit away from my 2mph uphill and 7mph flat speeds. I even screeched to a halt to take this picture. Any of you Borinqueñas know what it is? I've been sneaking up on them on my bike and catching meer* glimpses of them as they fled... I took to calling them evil squirrels.

I finished off with a few miles of flat, which was the worst part yet just because it was 25 minutes of boring. I got home, dropped off the bike (I'm sure 22 miles will cover me for today, especially because we're at the top of a hill) and went to the grocery store for a (abnormally) bad (but getting better) bottle of cabernet and a box of spaghetti.

*deer** English major fronds**, that was on porpoise**. They sort of look lichen** meerkats.

**okay, those were just mean.

Day 13: I Hate Horses.

Ray told me that I wasn't allowed to be boring and just read on the beach all day. So I looked at the map, started googling, and made some plans.

The first stop on the plan was to head a mile up the beach and see the black sand beach. It was a great hike, really easy, seemed short, and there were even some cool rock formations on the way. As I approached the black-sand portion, I scared a horse. Wild horses running on the beach! It turns out every 8 year-old's fantasy exists in the real world, and it is pretty cool ts o see at that.

The black-sand beach was more like a beach with black-sand than a beach of black sand. A lack of recent rainstorms bringing fresh sand down from the volcanic rocks higher on the island meant there was a lot of regular sand overtop... but you could scratch through to the really dark stuff. After I played in it a little bit I headed further up the beach and found a pristine patch of it. It's fun stuff with one drawback: it gets hot. Imagine all the worst parts of bare feet on asphalt and sand at the same time. On the flip side, it sparkles. The sparkling didn't show up on camera, so I folded my Culebra map into an envelope and packed some up to bring home to y'all. I give it a 50-50 chance of making it home all over my clothes vs in the envelope.

Then I headed on to stop 2 for the day: a radar installation a little over a mile from the black sand beach. This was about the point when I ran out of water, but I was still feeling good. The actual installation itself, a row of antennas, was kind of boring. But there were a plethora of warning signs, barbwire fence with acoustic monitoring (which I'd always worried about but never saw), cameras... and while programming my GPS to go to stop 3 there a security guard joined the list. The technology is pretty cool though, by using ionospheric reflection, the antennas I saw today can track things as far south as the middle of Bolivia. Also cool: I had no cell reception when I got near, and full reception slightly further away from it.

Stop 3 was a little more problematic. My GPS could not figure out that the lat/lon I gave it were on the island, it kept trying to go to the ferry and a 100 miles into PR. I still don't what it was thinking. So it turned into a guessing game. I walked up a dirt road right nearby and guessed left. If only I'd guessed right. But there were all these trails going left! Why would people ride their horses there if there wasn't something to see? So I set off, following the trails, which brings us to the title of this post. Horses are retarded. Horse trails don't go anywhere, curl back, stop abruptly, but give the illusion of being real paths. I spent an hour trying to go somewhere on them, before giving up and heading off into the wilderness: There was a road that dead-ended, similar to the road to the ruins on the map, only .2 miles from me! That's like 1000ft, can't be hard. And I was sick of trying to GPS through these trails, my GPS is terrible when you only go a dozen feet before turning. And tourist maps, with only some roads, no scales or even a consistent scale to the features... grrr. The work well at convincing security you're lost though.

It was terrible, especially in sandals (my boots were holding open a door in my room so my clothes would dry). That 1000 feet was worse than the 20,000 feet before it. Prickerbushes, cacti that grew in strings between trees, gullies, all uphill, and absolutely no paths. Almost bushwhacked into a wasp nest too, until I saw something moving on the other side of the pricker-strand I was about to kick through.

The road might have been a road a hundred years ago, but there were middle-aged trees, full-grown cacti, and thousands more bushes on it. It was better than the ".2 mile" though, so I stuck to it. Eventually I got to a real dirt road, and surprised a family of horses charging down at me, followed shortly by three Cowboys on horses. When I got to the real road there was a set of ruins right there. I took a few pictures but without water I couldn't be motivated to keep walking to see if it was the sugar mill or not. Further research says... possibly. Check back tomorrow?

Eventually, after detouring around the radar facility, covered in filth and seedpods, exhausted, dehydrated.... I made it to my hotel, where I drank a few bottles worth of water and showered. After a while, I went out to read on the boardwalk, have dinner, and drink a beer. When they offer independent beers I tend to try one. You know, experience the world. It took me the entire bottle to figure out where I'd tasted something that bitter before.... it tasted very beery and even more like acorns. (What can I say, I had a productive childhood. If you don't know what acorns taste like LMK, we can arrange something.) After dinner I watched the sunset and finished with a dip in the pool, soaking my sore legs and listening to Cauterize.

If anyone wants to examine the extent of my wandering, here. It doesn't include the fullness of wandering in circles with cartographically challenged equines, but its a general idea. Math (nigh 5 hours at between 2.5 and 3 mph) says 12 miles, so the actual answer is probably somewhere close to 11 hard miles. Which unfortunately don't get you any further than the easy ones.

Day 12: Culebra y Vieques!

I woke up late, went to free breakfast (burnt pancakes) and got a free ride to the airport! Expensive hotels have their perks. If I had anything smaller than a 20 I would have tipped, I promised to come back if I ever visit the island again, instead.

At the airport they told me that the earliest flight was 1:30, and there was nothing direct to vieques unless I wanted to charter a flight for 450$. Oh well, ferry games it is. The disaster getting onto the island yesterday was the disaster getting off of it today. I waited and read, encourage that there were only a few people in line, maybe 40, well shy of the 150+ the ship can hold... Around 11:30 two of my friends from yesterday (a young lawyer couple from the EFF who were surprised I knew what it was) showed up and we all decided to stand in line, instead of just near the line. At 12:20 - 20 minutes into ticket sales - the line had barely moved, and one of the lawyers headed to the front to find out what was happening. They had sold out, apparently in the first 10 people (along with culebra residents who are allowed to pre-order). Leaving them to hold our place in the line, I went off to check the airport.

After a few rounds of phone-tag, they got on the 5:30 flight off the island while I flew standby on the 1:30 that couldn't fit them. The flight wasn't as eventful as the first, but still fun, and still cheap. I did get one shot showing the hotel I didn't (foreground) and did (background) stay at last night. The planes fly at 150ish (rated for up to 200) mph, and the ferry (I checked with GPS) does 15mph, tops.

In Ceiba I had a decision to make: do I spend the $35 for a taxi to the ferries (no one else on my flight was headed in that direction to split it with me) or do I spend the $40 for another flight? Ok, so I may have exaggerated a bit. It wasn't a decision at all. I booked the flight before the baggage even got off the tarmac. AND since Vieques is closer it was only $30. Heck, I'd pay $30 just for the fun of take-off and landing.

The long runways and run-out at Ceiba and Vieques kept anything extra-interesting from happening, but we did get a good view of Mosquito Pier. Mosquito Pier is a mile-long start to a land bridge that was to connect Vieques to the mainland in case we needed to dock an entire fleet during WWII. Luckily, the war ended and we never had to, and the project was canceled.

The flight was short, only half the time it takes to get to Culebra (which is how it can be so cheap, I guess). I caught a cab to Esperanza, Vieques's other city, and got a hotel recommendation from the cabbie. Malecon House, named after the boardwalk that runs along the coast in front of it, is a pretty, reasonably priced hotel built just last year. I'll try to get some pictures for y'all.

I did some sink-laundry (avoid this if you can, you never want to know how dirty you actually are), took a walk around the town (literally the whole way around it), had dinner next door overlooking the harbor, and enjoyed having internet again. Esperanza is the way Vieques should be, it's about 5 blocks long, friendly, clean... everything Isabella II isn't.

Day 11: If at first you don't succeed...

Yesterday I was told I could catch a boat to culebrita at noon today. The cheapest, simplest way to get from vieques back to Culebra is to take two ferries... and the timetable dictated that I take the 6:30 vieques ferrry to be in Culebra on time. So I set my alarm for 5.45, and woke up this morning at 5.30 when the chickens wouldn't shut up.

Getting on the ferry was decent, though the ferry was surprisingly full and I sat on the floor rather than cram myself onto a bench. I was used to ferries with enough space to lie down if you want... When we got to Fajardo I realized just how bad the situation was. They had sold out of tickets to Culebra before we had even arrived. It turns out that Puerto Rican's flock to the island for the 3 day weekend that starts holy week, and that the first few people in line arrived before 6am to buy all the remaining tickets for their families/friends.

But a representative of the airline was there, arranging flights out of nearby Ceiba airport. I tacked on to a group of 8, just barely squeezing in, and eventually - after a half hour of taxi's sniping each others groups, counting and recounting our group, and waiting for people to park - we got a taxi to the airport. Chartering a flight is surprisingly simple. We had a PRican take point, since he spoke the language (and his wife spoke the most)... We each gave him (her) 40$, wrote our name and weight on a list, and he put it on a credit card. I could have given any name I wanted... There were no metal detectors, no x-rays... it was refreshingly easy.

The flight was fun too, and there were no choppy seas to worry about. I highly recommend it. Coming in to Culebra I could barely see my old hotel and saw the trails to and the peak next to the cow-pad. The landing was awesome, it was the first time I ever thought I might be in a plane-crash. Because of the shape of the island there's a hill right before the landing strip, so our pilot had to fly downwards towards the short runway. Usually, a landing plane is pointing up but moving down, sort of a swooping motion. At this airport, you point down and move down, sort of a crashing motion. After a touchdown and a few wiggles we all clapped.

I called up Willy, the man with a boat, and arrainged to meet on the town peir. I finished reading the Millennium Trilogy and watched dingy's come in from the yachts in the harbor. At 5 minutes to noon, Willy came by, asking about the other two people. At noon, Troy showed up, followed shortly by his wife, Joy, who had been held up by/at the sandwich shop picking up lunch. Willy told us we were the first tourists on this newer, smaller boat as we set off, with Joy and Troy taking turns at the wheel as we idled through the no-wake inner harbor. Then we got to the yes-wake zone and Willy pinned the throttle. Right before we left the harbor the engine went from making a normally-loud deep burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr noise to making a very loud BRAPBRAPBRAPBRAP noise. I looked at it, looked at Willy, and when Willy was starting at it I knew something was wrong.

We puttered out of the channel, killed the engine, and lifted the engine cover. One of the spark plugs was just hanging out. The one above it was at a jaunty angle... a bad thing for a spark plug. On my side of the v6, they were all where they should be, but they all moved when I poked them. Willy explained: 1) always doublecheck your mechanic, and 2) this is why he doesn't fly planes. We puttered over to another boat, but the only tool they had was pliers, so Willy called one of his taxi driver's who came out with the tool-bag that should have been in the boat from the beginning. A minute later and we roared out into the open seas.

There were 3 boats at the beach when we got there, and Willy gently crashed into the sandy part, we all jumped overboard into the 18" water, and he went back home, leaving us to do what we would on the island. Joy and Troy stayed at the beach to snorkel, I immediately started heading to the trails and uphill.

If at first you don't succeed, find another lighthouse. The hotel had mentioned it, saying "The old light house is extremely dangerous and should not be entered." Obviously, I had to. I was surprised that the fence was missing in sections, and a number of people all around. I walked through the surrounding buildings and offered a memorycard to a family that had just filled theirs. ("Are you shooting on SD" "Yeah, I think it's a GD") $20 for 4 gigs is not a good deal, but $20 for 4 gigs on an abandoned island right when your only card fills up is a great deal. For the historically inclined, it was built in 1886 and shuttered in 1959, though there is still a solar-powered beacon in it.

Then I crossed the wooden planks to the rusty staircase and went up. It was a little easier / less dangerous than I'd hoped, but the view from the top made up for it. You could see all the beaches on the island, Culebra, Vieques, even St. Thomas. And the breeze tore across the top, this has to be my favorite place in Puerto Rico. I then set up some webbing around the central core of the lighthouse, tied in, and rappeled it a few times. Because of the lip at the top the best way over the edge is to jump... which is unnerving the first time and fun the rest. Various tourists asked me to pause at certain points so they could get a picture...

I had a blast. It was entirely worth carrying around all the extra gear for the last two weeks just to rap it once. To do it a few times and take pictures? Fantastic. To conclude, I did an aussie rap on a figure 8, something I'd previously only done with a rescue rack (a different type of belay device). My first attempt the figure 8 inverted on me, meaning it turned into a hitch and wouldn't slide. I flopped back up over the edge, untied the knot, flipped it, and tried again. This time it worked. Except for the end, it wasn't as much fun as the previous rappels, but at the end I had to rappel off the end of the rope (on purpose, the rope was 3' too short) while jumping from face-down to feet-down.

I hiked back down to the beach, and found a shaded spot underneath a few arching branches were I spent my time - broken up by occasional wanders - reading an autobiography, finishing my teddy-graham and peanut trailmix, and watching turtles bob up for air every few minutes.

At 5.30 Willy came to pick us up, and to make up for the engine trouble he decided it was happy hour, so we all had a beer on the way home. He even took us for a tour of the mangrove swamp where they hide their boats during storms. It was interesting seeing the brown splotches of roots missing their leafy bushes in perfectly boat-shaped splotches wherever a boat had broken away from its anchor and headed for the shore.

I had dinner overlooking the harbor, and then set off looking for a hotel with vacancy or a beach with cover to spend the night. An elderly couple picked me up in their pickup truck a few miles down the road and drove me to the furthest of two hotels. It didn't have vacancy, but the one just down (yay downhill) the road did. Signing the bill, I was surprised how easily I went from planning to sleep on the beach to sleeping in a $250/night room. Not that I paid that much, thank goodness. It was a sweet room. Huge bed, a dozen pillows, and one of those showers that has a head the size of a dinnerplate. I'm going to come home spoiled.

Day 10: Culebra y Vieques

The internet in the pizza place died before I could post today`s, check back tomorrow to find out if I can outsmart barnyard animals.

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Another day on vacation, and another day of getting up too early for vacation. I knew I had to check out by 11 and I wanted to go swim on the resorts private beach. It was very private, and probably a good snorkeling beach. I didn't have any snorkeling gear though, so I just swam around looking down at the fish and at the coral through the super-clear water. Getting out, I couldn't spot the gap in the reef, so I swam over it, mostly, and scraped my wrist pretty hard. All coral is sharp coral.

I got tired swim-snorkelling faster than expeced, so it was still way before 9 when I checked out and called a taxi... well, tried to call. None of the taxi's answer their phones before 10... so I set off walking. Luckily, the chef came by and offered me a ride right before I got to the steep uphill part. Sweet! I had him drop me off at the trailhead for a 4x4 trail that the guidebook said lead to the old army helipad and great views of the island.

I wasn't about to wheel my suitcase uphill through miles of mud, so I ditched it a few feet into the grass and laid some more grass over it for good measure. The hike was uphill, steep, but without a super-heavy bag to carry and before the sun came out it wasn't as rough as I expected, though it was a little bit further... a feature complemented by vague directions. But the vaguity did allow me to see a solar power installation and meet a pack of geese.

They were beautiful white storybook geese, and they started honking and coming at me. I was momentarily taken back. Who did these geese think they are? Then they started running at me, honking, if possible, more annoyingly. I sidestepped to the left side of the cement that was once a road, waited until they were almost on me, and shouted "BAH!" while dodging right and running a few steps. That was the first time I ever saw a confused goose. It's a lot like an angry goose, only it's not honking.

After passing through a flock of very annoyed (answering the question: it is possible to have a more annoying honk) guinea fowl, I passed an old guard shack and knew I was almost to the helipad, which was on the top of the mountain - one of the highest points on the island. I came around a corner and saw a cow on the road. After an hour of listening to roosters, and the geese/fowl incidents, this didn't really surprise me. Finally, I thought, an animal that won't start screeching when I walk by. The cow walked around the next corner and I followed a minute behind... only when I got close I realized that despite the familiar black+white coloring, this cow had no udders. And it's staring at me. Are those horns? Why is it breathing so hard through it's nose? Oooooooh.

So I turned around, walked down around behind the helipad, and scampered up some rocks. Take that, chief snorting bull, you can't gore me on top of boulders. I took a few pictures, turned around, and headed out - being sure to give the visibly-distressed herd some room, ready to sprint for more boulders if I heard any galloping noises behind me.

The trip down was less eventful, as I avoided the geese and the fowl flock had moved off the road. I stopped for a moment to admire Flamenco bay with it's blue water and white sand, and picked up my bag and started walking back into town. For the second time, someone offered me a ride, so I got to skip the uphill section of this road too! This time in the back of a pickup truck. Then I had breakfast and caught a ferry back to Puerto Rico proper.

In Fajardo I immediately (through some crafty stand-in-the-cargo-line style line-dodging) caught another ferry to Vieques. It's a lot of time on boats but I think of it as a super-cheap cruise. In fact, I think I'm going to do the same tomorrow... In Vieques, I checked into a cheap hotel. It's pretty rundown, extra tv cables dangling, sticks holding up the sink. But it's right next to the ferry (tune in tomorrow) and "When you need a poo, any dump'll do." Which while not a completely accurate description is too good of a rhyme to delete.

Then I went to a pizza place with shoddy wifi for dinner and an early bed.

Flamenco Beach

Day 9: Culebra!

After car, bus, taxi, publico, foot, and ferry I am in the beautiful Culebra. More to come when I have real internet.

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I got up early today to make sure I didn't miss the ferry. I drove my terrible little Yaris through the mountains to one of the main n/s roads across the island (my gps is convinced that since they don't have a speed limit they must be faster. My gps is sorta crazy though. Typical Conversationis something like this; gps:"Recalculating" me:"No me digas" gps:"Turn left on (pause) unpaved road" Me:"HA! No.")

Never a boring drive. Today I was forced to drive around a few stopped cars, a lazy dog, and an extremely cocky rooster. Last night I had someone pull out into my lane. Situation normal, I slid over a lane. Then their door swung open into my new lane. Without missing a beat I slid over another half a lane, oncoming traffic reciprocated, and I got the feeling this happens all the time. I also saw a raptor (for the first time in the wild), and a stretch convertible beetle. Unsurprisingly, that one was broken.

So I got to the airport, returned my car, caught the bus to the terminal, caught a taxi to the transit center, and caught a publico to Fajardo. For those of you who've never ridden a publico, it's a lot like a taxi that goes almost where you want it to, but it takes the long way and gives people rides along the way. Since it costs 1/10th as much, I love them. But despite quoting me a rate for a trip all the way to the ferry terminal, he only drove me to the Fajardo transit center. So I walked! It was farther than I expected. I started heading toward the shore, hoping that I would recognize the Spanish word for ferry when I saw a sign. They did me one better and posted a picture of a car on a wave.

After crossing the whole of fajardo, I found out my walking adventure meant I missed the ferry to vieques by 10 minutes. But no worries, there was another to culebria in two hours, and another to vieques 90 minutes after that. Being ADD, I chose culebria and opened a book.

The ferry was good, most the time. At one point it started to roll 2' up and down... that was less good, but when I put down my book and got some air it was an enjoyable ride.

Culebria is an island paradise where people don't bother manning hotel desks. After finding a few locked hotels I set off walking (again) figuring I'd find something. I followed the signs for the airport (airports always have hotels), then set off the direction all the taxis had gone, and eventually (2 miles) later found a sign that said "Hotel! 1km" about a click further I saw a sign that said "Hotel! 3/4 mi"... and eventually, at the very end of the road, I found a hotel.... with noone manning the desk. But it was sunset and I wasnt walking anymore, so I called the numbers listed. The first I could hear ringing - and wasn't answered, and the other rang the chef, who sent up someone. I convinced them to let a room for just one night, and hiked (up hill and up stairs) to it. It was actually a nice little cabin set up. A living-room kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom.

I showered, changed, lightened my backpack considerably, and went down to dinner. Mahi-Mahi and wine on their private beach. The food was meh, but the setting was fantastic.

Day 8: Arecibo!

So I got up, and after checking a few times and confirming that it was Wednesday, and that they said Wednesday, I decided to go for it again.

Yesterday, on my way to the hotel I saw something called "Bosque Seco." I kindle-wikipedia'd it, and all I saw was blah blah nature habitat blah blah ruins of an abandoned spanish lighthouse in a fenced off area. Well, enough said. They just hit 4 of my keywords in one sentence. So I figured it might be worth doing if my path took me past it. And, well, my path went past and I had 2 hours extra on my trip (one of which I knew would be eaten. Puerto Rico is the only time the "projected arrival time" goes up on my GPS, not down...)

So I got there (soapbox friends: look at the terrain map at 17.979999,-66.879401, just know 334 goes through with a few switchbacks barely 2 cars wide) and set off hiking down the mountain through the woods toward the shore. Then the trail evaporated. This happened several times on me. Obvious trails, marked with signs and dayglo-tagged trees just disappear. So I hiked down a storm-wash until I got to a road and the sign said: Special nature area, special-permission access only.

I had assumed that a "fenced off area" was a hundred feet, stone-henge style. This was area-51 style, you can't get close for miles. So I turned around, and started back. And ran into dense scrub, etc etc... pulled out my gps and found a road and set off back towards parking. Now would be a good time to explain what "Bosque Seco" means. It means: Dry Forest. What's that mean? It means a normal, MD forest except with some cacti thrown in for good measure. Oh, and it's hot as balls. And to get from the coast to the forest its uphill.

Its tiring to recount, so... an hour+half after I set out, covered in sweat, no water left, and covered in thorns and seed (they even have double-poiked pricker bushes, where they stick out in each direction, razorwire style) I emerged and set off for Arecibo, having used up all my buffer, meaning I might end up bumping against closing time at the end of my visit.

The drive was much the same as it was yesterday, with one exception. The observatory is in the rainforest. Thus, it rained. A lot. And I had to run uphill (deja vu) to the visitor center.

The observatory is pretty cool. It uses a spherical instead of parabolic reflector so that it can be aimed without moving the dish with a consistent distortion correction. The major ball thing there is about house-sized, with a lab inside of it, along with secondary and tertiary reflectors. The cord going to it is a bundle of cables and a walkway. Pretty sweet

I watched a somewhat-interesting film made in the 90's about the dish and then went out to the observation deck, where we got rained on, hard.

Here's one of the towers begging for it. I didn't, but I wanted to so hard. They have massive budget problems, so if we ever stop radaring space to detect inbound asteroids, I'm booking another flight because the only thing that would make this place better was no adult supervision.

For dinner and a hotel I drove down to Salinas. But at 7pm after dinner the hotel office was closed, so I went down the road to the Parador Carribean, which was a good call. And Jeremy, if you can't tell, I love your lens more and more every day.