Relax, my friends, I haven't been kidnapped by drug barons or adopted as a golden-haired Goddess by a remote jungle tribe (more's the pity).
No, it was a mere three-day sailing expedition to the beautifully unreconstructed Mochima National Park (palm-fringed beaches, coral reefs teeming with exotic submarine life, eating fish straight from the sea having observed it swimming about prettily among the coral moments before, etc. - you know the score).
So, I can confidently report that you truly haven't lived until you've swum naked at midnight in the limpid waters of the Caribbean, your every graceful move illuminated by thousands of tiny pinpricks of light emanating from God only knows what tiny sea-bugs. Really magical.
I think I'll dwell on that rather than the sunburn, intense heat, humidity and unsightly rash (for which I point the finger of blame squarely at the aforementioned magical glowing sea-bugs).
I can also report that, rather as you wouldn't have expected marmalade to go so well with sausages, the ideal soundtrack to the stunning backdrop of palm fringed beaches, jungle-covered mountains, shanty fishing villages etc. surprisingly appears to be Nick Drake. Quite why a suicidal 1960s English folky type should complement this all so well I don't know. But he does.
More anon, unless the mooted sailing trip to Tortuga (if any Depp fans could kindly remind me of what Captain Jack Sparrow says about the place, I'd be most grateful) comes off.
Fat Roland's blog: happy 20th birthday
1 day ago
4 comments:
Well, hurrah. You're fine. Not just fine, in excellent nick. Apart from the rash of course. Do you think you could have found where Saddam Hussein was keeping his stash of uranium?
Sadly, I have never swum naked in the Caribbean at midnight. I have swum naked at midnight in Loch Tay. And it was August so we got more than the normal one minute to live. The icy water worked wonders on the various bosoms on display at the time, but was not so kind to the blokes.
Hahahaa, brings back memories of my mis-spent youth in the north of Scotland. I have distinct memories of swimming in the Moray Firth on New Year's Day (not naked though, as far as I can recall - I'm not *that* hardcore), but then I also have memories of seeing the Moray Firth frozen at the edges on New Year's Day. I'd like to think it was the same year (in which case take that, Ray Mears!) but sadly it probably wasn't.
Right then chaps, am off for three days to see the Angel Falls (named after Dave Angel, Eco-Warrior), so cross your fingers for me that the ancient tourist biplane doesn´t crash into the crystal clear waters of the Rio Orinoco or whatever it is.
Will do...though you might bump into Harrison Ford, which can't be all bad.
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