Penn recovers at Juanie's Cafe Day Seven, Friday May 28th 2016
I’ve told you we’re only steps from one of the prettiest beaches I’ve ever seen. For the first few days of my stay on Bocas, I swam every day. Today I took a pass.
I hurt so badly I didn’t want to get out of bed. I heard the voices in the main house and felt like they were having a party without me. I managed to get up and get dressed, then made my way onto the deck where everyone else was.
Dawn was not rested and still incredibly grumpy. She needed a long nap. Instead, she, her mom and Heidi hiked a mile or so down to the fresh water lagoon. The path to the lagoon starts just east of the house. It cuts through the jungle, then comes out on the beach. Where trees, rocks or promontories block the beach, the path once more winds through the jungle.
It’s a long walk, but the reward at the end is a spring fed river that forms a fresh-water lagoon just up from the beach. If you look real hard, you can see Dorothy Lamour wrapped in one of her sarongs on the Road to Bocas. (For those of you too young to catch the reference, too bad. No, really, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour made a series of “Road to . . .” movies back in the ‘40s and ‘50s. You don’t know who Bob Hope is? There’s no hope for you.)
I am told that the ladies went swimming in the lagoon. I didn’t see any bathing suits when they left so heaven knows what they wore. I would have liked to see that. On the other hand, they could have been wearing Mother Hubbards and I wouldn’t have known. I was so drugged up that I considered voting for Donald Trump. (Not really, but it sounded good.)
After the ladies returned, we piled into the truck and headed into town. I can tell you, it was not a pleasant drive for me.
The reason for our trip was that Wes and Joyce’s closest friends on the island and nearest neighbors (They’re about a mile west of us.) had a BBQ at their marina.
Courtney and Rosemary are a couple of good ol’ Texas hands. Courtney is a lifelong sailor who cruised these waters for years before dropping anchor in Bocas. He saw a need for a marina and built one. Every Friday, they have a BBQ and live music.
The marina is great. There’s room for about sixty boats or so. It’s nestled on a point across the bay from Bocas Town. There are no roads out there, so you have to take a boat. Fortunately, Rosemary sent a panga from the marina to pick us up.
The boats in Bocas lead a tough life, the docks more so. The panga was about twenty feet long with a high bow and low freeboard. Made of fiberglass, it had four seats molded into the hull.
Getting to boat on the dock was taking our lives into our own hands. The rickety, wooden dock was about two feet wide with no handrails. If you tripped or slipped, you were going swimming. I should mention that the water in Bocas Town looks a little suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that all of the town’s sewage is dumped into the bay.
We managed to board the boat with little incident and cruised across the bay to the marina.
The fare wasn’t bad. I had a combo of BBQ’d ribs and chicken. Dawn had the filet of beef. Heidi found a vegetarian pizza on the menu.
I’ve told you we’re only steps from one of the prettiest beaches I’ve ever seen. For the first few days of my stay on Bocas, I swam every day. Today I took a pass.
I hurt so badly I didn’t want to get out of bed. I heard the voices in the main house and felt like they were having a party without me. I managed to get up and get dressed, then made my way onto the deck where everyone else was.
Dawn was not rested and still incredibly grumpy. She needed a long nap. Instead, she, her mom and Heidi hiked a mile or so down to the fresh water lagoon. The path to the lagoon starts just east of the house. It cuts through the jungle, then comes out on the beach. Where trees, rocks or promontories block the beach, the path once more winds through the jungle.
It’s a long walk, but the reward at the end is a spring fed river that forms a fresh-water lagoon just up from the beach. If you look real hard, you can see Dorothy Lamour wrapped in one of her sarongs on the Road to Bocas. (For those of you too young to catch the reference, too bad. No, really, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour made a series of “Road to . . .” movies back in the ‘40s and ‘50s. You don’t know who Bob Hope is? There’s no hope for you.)
I am told that the ladies went swimming in the lagoon. I didn’t see any bathing suits when they left so heaven knows what they wore. I would have liked to see that. On the other hand, they could have been wearing Mother Hubbards and I wouldn’t have known. I was so drugged up that I considered voting for Donald Trump. (Not really, but it sounded good.)
After the ladies returned, we piled into the truck and headed into town. I can tell you, it was not a pleasant drive for me.
The reason for our trip was that Wes and Joyce’s closest friends on the island and nearest neighbors (They’re about a mile west of us.) had a BBQ at their marina.
Courtney and Rosemary are a couple of good ol’ Texas hands. Courtney is a lifelong sailor who cruised these waters for years before dropping anchor in Bocas. He saw a need for a marina and built one. Every Friday, they have a BBQ and live music.
The marina is great. There’s room for about sixty boats or so. It’s nestled on a point across the bay from Bocas Town. There are no roads out there, so you have to take a boat. Fortunately, Rosemary sent a panga from the marina to pick us up.
The boats in Bocas lead a tough life, the docks more so. The panga was about twenty feet long with a high bow and low freeboard. Made of fiberglass, it had four seats molded into the hull.
Getting to boat on the dock was taking our lives into our own hands. The rickety, wooden dock was about two feet wide with no handrails. If you tripped or slipped, you were going swimming. I should mention that the water in Bocas Town looks a little suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that all of the town’s sewage is dumped into the bay.
We managed to board the boat with little incident and cruised across the bay to the marina.
The fare wasn’t bad. I had a combo of BBQ’d ribs and chicken. Dawn had the filet of beef. Heidi found a vegetarian pizza on the menu.
Miss Heidi checks out the marina
We got to know our neighbors a little. I immediately liked them. Courtney reminds me of the sheriff in an old western with a long, gray mustache and a dereliction for talking. He’s the strong silent type. When he does talk, his words roll slowly off of his tongue with a Texas accent.
Rosemary is the epitome of the farm wife in the same film. She’s as nurturing as can be and always willing to help with anything, but tough as rocks.
They are pioneers on the island. They were the first Anglos to move here. When they arrived there was no electricity and no running water. Bocas Town was a small settlement on a largely unpopulated island. They couldn’t call a cement truck to help build their house because there weren’t any. They mixed all of their cement in a wheel barrel by hand.
There was no road to this side of the island, so they had to haul in supplies by horse. For larger items, they landed them in pangas on the beach, then had to haul then up the hill on their backs.
I said that living here felt like living in the Old West. In their day, it really was.
Today we have it easy with solar panels and running water (rainwater caught and stored in a cistern). They really roughed it.
Rosemary is the epitome of the farm wife in the same film. She’s as nurturing as can be and always willing to help with anything, but tough as rocks.
They are pioneers on the island. They were the first Anglos to move here. When they arrived there was no electricity and no running water. Bocas Town was a small settlement on a largely unpopulated island. They couldn’t call a cement truck to help build their house because there weren’t any. They mixed all of their cement in a wheel barrel by hand.
There was no road to this side of the island, so they had to haul in supplies by horse. For larger items, they landed them in pangas on the beach, then had to haul then up the hill on their backs.
I said that living here felt like living in the Old West. In their day, it really was.
Today we have it easy with solar panels and running water (rainwater caught and stored in a cistern). They really roughed it.
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