As a respite from the general visual, aural, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile perfection of the morning, we took a ride west, nearly as far west as one can go by land.
I recognize that there is some danger that these essays are becomming repetitive. Update: paradise still spectacular in every regard! Doesn’t move the story along very much, does it?
Luckily, there’s a distinction to be made between recognition and giving a damn. Paradise is still perfect. “Stick that,” as my mother would say, “in your pipe and smoke it!”
As a respite from the general visual, aural, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile perfection of the morning, we took a ride west, nearly as far west as one can go by land. We went to a place called “Fortuna” that would, if the English had settled this island instead of the Dutch no doubt have been called “Land’s End”. (How or even if the Dutch colonization has anything to do with the name “Fortuna” we leave as an exercise for the reader.)
![[Photo]](thumbs/20040506-175912.jpg)
Western View
The place we were actually aiming for, and Star Trek fans at least will immediately recognize why, was Botany Bay. (Yes, I know that that is not the Botany Bay, but it has an eponemous attraction nevertheless.) Alas, it appears not to be accessible by land in any obvious way. It has been suggested to us that renting a boat and getting there by sea is the thing to do. With little boating experience and 7-9 foot seas this time of year, I think not on this trip.
Back from our excursion, we can report first hand that the island is gorgeous from end to end. There, I’m glad that’s settled. Now I can get back to enjoying the general perfection of things. “Another Rum Punch,” you ask? “Why, yes, absolutely.”
“Pass the orange, will you dear, the iguanas are out this afternoon. Is this perfect, or what?”
“Here iggy, iggy, iggy...”