|Pelicans feeding on the southern end of Flamenco Beach.|
That's 1975 on the tank.
With fresh water, looming mountains, and arable land as a first stop right smack in the middle of trade winds from Europe, Puerto Rico has migration embedded in the culture. Whoever controlled Puerto Rico dominated commerce in the Caribbean. The Spanish (thanks Christopher!) first colonized the island's people and ruled for 400 years before ceding power back to Puerto Ricans in 1897. Just a year later, the U.S. invaded with Spanish-American War, eventually granting citizenship to residents in 1917. Of course, this occured just after the first shots of World War 1 were fired from the imposing El Morro fort. Through economic experiments and adversities, Puerto Ricans are united by a fiercely proud culture and identity. In many conversations I had, people here were undergoing their own migration.
|A gumbo limbo tree on an isolated section of beach|
between Playa Tamarindo and Playa Menlnes.
|Boats moored in Bahai Ensenada Honda,|
on departure from Culebra.
We tooted around a huge luxury yacht with jet skis zipping around, over an unusual colony of cushion sea starts, and past boats of both sail and motor, sinking in abandon. Perhaps left behind by folks who had untied their dingy, headed for shore and never looked back.
|I walked most of this route later in the afternoon.|
With steady work in hand and the beginnings of my third summer in Maine, the trip started a process of considering how to set the stage for what will evolve next. I'm reflecting on thoughts of tiny houses, of a cabana (or two!) as landing spaces in a seasonal migration, or perhaps a boat. There are infinite options, a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. Exploring the Carribean Sea, so accessible to the east coast, seems like a worthy goal for each April.