Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Oh, stop that now!” she laughed. “Get your mind out of the bilges and onto that island;
there's plenty of time for fooling around. Why don't we plan on sleeping on the beach one
night?”
In a short while, we had taken our seats in the little dinghy. Herman sat at the stern; I was in
the middle as I was going to row, and Paula sat up in the bow. As we approached the backs
of the breakers, we could feel the dinghy rise and fall with the surge, and we began to grow
tense. I waited for the smallest breaker to roll in and quickly dipped the oars and pulled
them into the path of the rushing water. We felt the dinghy rise up suddenly and accelerate
forward towards the shore. There was a great deal of noise, white water, and shouts from
the crew. I lost control of the boat; I was unable to keep the bow forward any longer as we
were going too fast; the beam was swiftly presented to the onrushing wave, and we were
swept along sideways for a few exhilarating moments. Just when we thought it would carry
us through to the beach, the dinghy rolled over and threw everyone out into the churning
seawater and remained upside down! The oars were flung from the dinghy, and, luckily,
floated about with their rowlocks still attached.
We came up spluttering and laughing, getting a hold of the upturned dinghy and hanging on
tightly. The next wave that crashed into us carried us and the dinghy right up to the beach,
depositing us on the white sand, laughing and breathless. We were soon joined by the oars
and the plastic containers with our goods inside.
The arrival of Déjà vu had not gone unnoticed, and when we looked about, getting our bear-
ings, we spotted an ancient truck that had seen better days parked on the rough, dirt road.
Standing beside this battered, old vehicle was a local man beckoning us over. He smiled
when we approached and said in broken English, “Buenos días sorry for get mucho wet
grande agua! I come take you custom, must see senhor at office.” I nodded and thanked
him. He was an old man with long hair, an unshaven face, and he was missing a few teeth.
He smiled readily, his weather-beaten face crinkling at his eyes as he did. He motioned for
Herman and I to climb in the back and opened the cab door for Paula.
The old truck was surprisingly fast as it sped up the dusty, gravel road, crunching through
the gears and roaring its black diesel breath out of the well-worn exhaust pipe. Herman
and I stood up and held on to the top cab of the truck with the wind rushing through our
hair, exhilarated with the speed and thrilling newness of the countryside. There were a lot
of green hills and mountains all around with El Pico dominating the entire landscape. The
dusty road stretched and snaked out ahead of us, winding around hills and valleys. The is-
land was verdant and lovely, crisp and fresh at this early hour of the morning. The old man
knew the road well and slithered around the bends, anticipating every detail of the road
back to the customs office.
