Monday, July 2, 2007

Leaving the Lagoon

















Leaving the lagoon, towed (for the first time ever) by a miniature power boat, we speed past the fishing camp where an old man seems to live, hanging out sometimes in a hammock on the porch, waving cheerfully. The self-contained, expensive, empty Grand Bay hotel rises up the hill to our left. The tiny powerboat curves past mangroves and what smells like a garbage dump hidden behind some sand, and then through the canal toward our boat’s temporary home in the Cabo Blanco Marina. As we’re nearing the dock, which calls for precise navigation, Adam passes me the tiller and goes up forward. I think I do a pretty decent job with a bunch of men watching.

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