Eye level with soaring birds; how many places can that happen for you, besides Cayman Brac?
And yet, we met two divers who were on Brac last August, and who told us they never left the dive resort.
I was shocked, and I’m sure my dropped jaw told them so.
We told them about the caves, and the trails, and shore diving, and the ease and fun of driving around the island, and the absolute glory of our visits to the lighthouse.
As our impromptu standing-in-line conversation ended, and they turned away, I heard one say to the other, ‘Next time, we’ll go to Cayman Brac.’
Our home is glorious too.
Heavily laden with trees and flowers, it is one of the most bio-diverse places on earth; deltas and bayous and beaches, all waiting for a visit. That entire splendor gets fuzzy though, as I focus on my list of things to do. And so, I wonder for you, how long it has been since you’ve been to the lighthouse on the bluff.
And I hope you get there before the windmills. It isn’t that the gas rigs that line our coast are particularly ugly, or even unnecessary. It’s that the sight of them breaks up the rhythm of nature; puts a dissonant chord in the sweet solace that being in beautiful places can bring.
And I hope my friends get there while the birds still soar, and the little lizard with the curly tail hides against the rocks, and while their path can still be crossed by that huge red-headed caterpillar.