We had decided to put that trip off to Sunday, and to take Saturday for shopping and around-San-Juan things, since we want to be able to get out to the mall and to the larger grocery stores before we're deprived of a car. And then in the evening, we would drive an hour out to a spot recommended to us by Aurora, whose house we're staying in, for a night-time cruise out to a bioluminescent bay, where the microscopic organisms in the water glow blue when you run your arms through it. There's a better-known and larger one on the other end of the island, but apparently its luminescence is much faded. But around 9:00, Janneke called the fellow who'd been recommended to us as a cruise captain, and he quoted us the prices. That changed our minds, and we decided to head to Gilligan's Island today.
We were on the road by 10:00, on the very large and straight and not-at-all-illness-inducing Highway 52, but Tess was still convinced it was making her sick. We had to pull over every 20 minutes or so because she claimed she was on the edge of being sick, and let her walk around and de-contaminate. So we made terrible time, ogling the amazing scenery as we went; but even so, we would have been there on time for the 1:00 ferry - the book says they leave every hour, on the hour.
What the book doesn't say is that this place is jammed to the absolute gills on weekends. Both sides of the road had parking lots, and both were full to capacity. Janneke went in and asked about the ferry, but the one to Gilligan's Island wasn't running - "No hay", was all she could get out of the woman. But lots and lots of people were lined up on the dock, so I imagine it was more a case of being sold out, or having reached the maximum number of people allowed out there on a given day. She offered us another ferry ride to "bahia de la ballena", but that was too much of an unknown quantity, so we decided to head out to the end of the road we were on, where there's a beach that the book says has great snorkeling.
And once we got there, we saw that the "bahia de la ballena" is actually along the coast of this same island, easily reached by walking from the road. Our instincts were right on the money. We avoided being fleeced.
About the great snorkeling: The book was wrong for the second time in one day. The beach itself has fairly rough, not-very-clear water, and the snorkeling possibilities are exceedingly limited. To about a forty-foot strip of a rocky promontory, of which about ten feet are actually populated by fish. Pretty big disappointment on that front.
Plus, the beach is well-usd by the public, who have not shown themselves very responsible when it comes to picking up after themselves. Janneke and I cleared away probably 5 pounds of garbage from our immediate area of the beach to make it palatable, and on various strolls around while we were there we probably picked up 10 more. The usual: cans, bottles, plastic wrappers, juice boxes. You have to get yourself to where you're pointed at the sea, or in it, and can't see this other stuff before you can really enjoy yourself. And even then, every so often a donut wrapper goes floating past your goggles.
Travel books don't tell you this stuff. The books are written with a few things in mind, one of which is the simple, probably quite demonstrable fact that the book that paints the most positive picture of the place in question is the book most likely to sell. So none of the many available travel books, or few, by a sort of marketing-strategy, unspoken collusion, will tell you how crowded things get or how much garbage there is on the beach. People who buy the books have already decided to go, I'll bet, and they're counting on the book to make the trip wonderful. "Ponce is great", "this beach is a natural wonderland", etc.
But the drive through to the beach, and the scenery surrounding the beach (past the garbage), were beautiful. This is a desert forest area, growing right along the beach - an ecosystem that's unique in the world, from what I understand. (Thought it was pretty similar in aspect to the scrubby woods areas in the lowland coastal areas of Galapagos.) I got a few pictures on a stroll I did into the volcanic-stone-covered hillocks just behind the beach, and it's an amazing place. Like a moonscape, because of the sharp, jagged rocks (which are very lightweight, being volcanic), but covered in life. And also in seashells, strangely enough - lots of hyper-dry, white, thinning old shells of tidal-flat snails, the occasional shattered old bleached-out conch. Even though in elevation, it's a good 40 feet over the sea.
Part of the mystery is solved when you crest the low ridge and find a brackish pond, 200 to 250 yards across. Maybe big, big surges during hurricanes fill this area up much higher than it is now, and the organisms and eggs that come with it fill the place with life while it lasts; then, as the waters recede, things give up the ghost and cover the rocks with their bones.
But there was life in there - I was repeatedly dive-bombed by several very odd black and white shore birds with jet-black wings and long, pinkish legs trailing behind them. They peeped at me the whole time, coming within about ten feet of me before pulling up. I got some pictures - when we got home, it turned out to be a black-necked stilt. And they turn out to be very common, though not in Massachusetts.
We also strolled as a family up the beach to poke around in the sea grass growing along another stretch of the beach, and Janneke found a beautiful sea snail, big as a softball, which we all looked at for a while. I found a sea star, which Quinn was amazed to see moving, and we all looked at the shells of living snails on the rocks on the shore. The kids had water shoes, so it was a lot easier for them.
We had had enough by around 5:00, and wound up the day, heading back to the baking car. Our system for not getting sand in our shoes, or in the car, is a little labor-intensive, but it works - we walk barefoot back to the car, and I bring a pail of water from the ocean. Then one by one, I wash off the feet of the family members as they hang out the car door; when they're wet, but clean, they pull them in and close the door. Then I bring one more bucket for myself, and pour it over my own feet before withdrawing with the bucket into the driver's seat. There's probably some reeeally simple trick we're not smart enough to have figured out, but for now, this is the way we do it.
We drove for forty-five minutes or so, and saw a seafood restaurant on the side of the road that looked good. Ate there - things were expensive, but the cheaper items on the menu also turned out to be very good. Saw two puffer fish in the shallow water just off the restaurant's dining room, and then piled into the car for the final stretch home. The kids watched "The Incredibles" on our portable DVD player on the ride; we tried to get a picture of the blue glow on their faces from the screen, but weren't smart enough to figure out how to do it. We did know that the flash wouldn't work. That much we were clear on.
We got passed so many times, so dangerously, by people in SUVs. They roar past you at 90 miles an hour and then very nearly clip you as they weave through the tiny space between you and another car in another lane. I can't stand that. It happens in the States, but it seems to happen much more here- it almost seems to be the norm. It really does tick me off. The glorious moment came, though, when one of those SUVs - it may even have been one of the same ones who'd passed us - was pulled over on the side of the road just as we pulled into San Juan. I'm hoping there was a tazer involved. Maybe a cavity search.
The Netflix account we had switched to this address finally started kicking in as well, and we had a movie waiting for us when we got home. Put the kids to bed and settled in to watch "The Chorus", a French movie. Janneke liked it more than I did, but I did like it. And there we are.
Sunday will be "Shopping in San Juan" day. Plus the beach. But a local beach - known quantities are very, very attractive right now.
Pictures!
Some day we'll get this whole windshield photography
thing down. Until then, here's what we saw out the
window going along the Caribbean.
The landscape of the southern desert forest
Really - right on the ocean. Like, right there.
Cactuses and everything.
Dead sea snails at the base of the cactus. And I didn't plant them.
The pond behind the hillock.
The deadly black-necked stilt swings in
for another attack. Luckily, I had my
football with me. It's kind of
like when you hit those lizards, apart
from the feathers everywhere.
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