Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
enticingly through the water and could hardly believe it when I was rewarded with a strong
bite! My line grew taut! I had a fish on the end of my line struggling for all it was worth.
The locals on the bank were oblivious to my approach of no bait, but the beady-eyed pel-
icans noticed and whispered amongst each other. They all nodded in unison; they were
greatly amused at my choice of bait. But when I pulled out a lovely, shining, silver fish
of some four or five pounds they looked positively stunned, shifting their weight from one
foot to another on their perches of our dinghy sides. They watched in disbelief as I success-
fully hauled the fish out of the water and into the boat, their heads identically following
each movement. Gavin had put some bread on the end of his hook, and he soon had a fish
wriggling over the side as well. I continued with my bare hook and caught three more and
decided to throw one into the dinghy for the pelicans. It never hit the bottom but was ex-
pertly scooped up in mid flight by one of them as he flapped unhurriedly off with his prize
trapped safely in his odd looking, basket beak.
The morning broke over the lovely lagoon to the sweet sounds of tropical birds singing and
the refreshing sounds of ripples lapping against the boat's sides. It had been a long time
since we had such a safe and peaceful anchorage, and we had slept in. I eventually got up
and went out into the cockpit to turn the gas bottle on for morning coffee. The dinghy was
full of pelicans, and I could see from where I stood that it had been thoroughly soiled by
the visitors. I would have to clean that up before we went to shore.
After morning coffee and a Full Speed cigarette, I changed into my swimming briefs and
armed with a sponge and strong bristle scrubbing brush, hauled in Baby Vu's long paint-
er line and gingerly rowed ashore sitting knee deep in pelican guano. Oh! The smell was
obnoxious! I almost gagged; I had to figure a way of keeping them out of the dinghy. I
thankfully reached the shore and eagerly jumped out into the water. I tilted the dinghy and
sloshed in a lot of water and proceeded to scrub clean our little tender.
The army deputy who had given us the cans of food came over and told me the time we
could catch a bus to the other side of the island to buy provisions. Within the hour, both
Gavin and I were standing in a little line armed with plastic shopping bags awaiting the
arrival of the bus. We were greeted by a few locals and shy kids that clung to their parents
peeping out at these pale strangers with their sparkling, young, black eyes.
We felt the imminent approach of the bus before we actually saw it. The locals stiffened and
were looking at a cloud of dust gathering in size down the dry, gravel track. Within seconds,
a colorful, rickety, old bus roared up and slithered to a halt. I could have sworn I heard
it whinny. A local man stepped up and opened the doors, and everyone clambered aboard
amidst shouts and laughter. Suitcases and boxes were being tied up on the roof along with
the other scant, private possessions. Gavin and I found seats amongst the jostling passen-
