I should say, of course, Happy New Year. I am sorry to 1.) make my first post in the new year occur more than three weeks into 2012, and, 2.) that my first post is about something as mundane as the weather, but when uses a bicycle for transportation as I do, the weather plays a much more prominent role than it might if one drove. That is to say, riding a bike in the cold sucks.

In other recreational news, I did something I never wanted to do: I joined a gym. Every time I go I think of this:

I am finding myself surprisingly motivated. I have gone three nights in a row this week, and even if I don’t go for hours at a time, I still go. I do a little treadmill, and an assortment of weight machines that are cleverly designed so that the bar cannot fall and crush your trachea. The last time I did any weight training was my freshman year of high school, and I recall that after four months of it I was significantly stronger. I am not trying to make myself look like the guy from the Old Spice commercials, but I would like to not make a loud grunting noise every time I bend down to tie my shoes.

Also, future me will be interested to know that the gym costs only $10 per month (which is much lower than other gyms, perhaps because it doesn’t have a pool), and I didn’t have to sign a year-long contract. Also, future me will be ashamed if he can’t run for more than ten minutes straight.

In the next couple days I will write about one more of the following topics: school, work, collecting classical music compact discs, a fancy new kitty that comes around my house, songs that sound stupid but actually convey a powerfully universal truth, and more. Also, probably how absurdly excited I am getting for baseball. But also how I spent my New Year’s, and how I ate homemade cinnamon ice cream and suck at Scrabble.

Day One

I was in the process of painting our house, and I really wished to have a substantial portion of the work completed before I left town for several days.  When Sandi arrived in town I was just finishing the front, and was the sweatiest man in America.  I was sweatier still the next day on our six-hour drive, since the air conditioning in Sandi’s car is intermittent at best.  It will blow frigid air for about four minutes, then quickly turn warm.  Then it’s “windows down”.  In normal city driving it’s tolerable, but at highway speeds the wind noise is deafening.  Still, the conversation was good and made the long drive pass quickly, both coming and going.  Kathleen came along, also, and she rode in the front seat on the way down, and I rode up front on the way back.

We arrived in Homestead late Monday afternoon.  It was my first visit to their house, which they have lived in for over two years.  It gave me a very comfortable feeling, and I especially liked the floorplan, which has the guest rooms and bath on one side of the house, and the master bedroom and bath on the other side.  And, though it is a ranch-style home, it isn’t just one long rectangle.  The swimming pool is a luxury.  Sandi and Jeff were nice enough to lower their thermostat so that when we walked into their house we experienced an arctic blast, which I appreciated a great deal, especially each time we came in from the Sweltermobile, as I call her Explorer.  Plus, in the hot months, I love the feeling of coming in to a cold house while I am wet from the pool.  I cannot explain it, but I assume that I got the taste for it when I lived in a pool house as a kid.

Jeff came home shortly after our arrival, and we all went out to eat right away.  I wasn’t hungry, since we had stopped in Orlando to have lunch with Brenna on our way down, and after I eat a meal I am full for hours and hours.  But it was a pleasant Mexican restaurant in downtown Homestead that we went to, and I enjoyed just being there.  We came home afterward and did some night swimming.  There is a small stereo system out on Jeff and Sandi’s patio, so one might enjoy a tune whilst swimming.  Their very well-behaved dog was not at all interested in getting in the water.  Or barking, or jumping on anyone, or doing anything at all that I generally find annoying with dogs.   She just liked standing around wherever we were, and being embraced bodily by Sandi at frequent intervals.  I have been around this dog on several occasions (she formerly belonged to Sandi’s mother), and she’s really a first-rate animal.

Most nights during my visit we all sat in the den chatting and taking turns playing Grand Theft Auto.  That’s one of few video games that is even fun to watch other people play, since each person’s turn feels like watching a movie.  I don’t have any sort of video game system at home, so it’s a novelty when I get to play.   We didn’t worry too much about playing the regular missions that further the game’s narrative.  Rather, we preferred to amass stockpiles of weapons and then go on crime rampages in an effort to see just how many law enforcement agencies would attempt to apprehend us.  Jeff also likes playing in “Vigilante” mode, which involves hunting down various enemy characters somewhere in the game, and that was particularly exciting to watch.  We all spent a good deal of time in the comfy den, and were up past midnight every night.

Day Two

Sandi must have been up well before me on Tuesday morning, because she was already out shopping for victuals for the boat trip we were going to take that day when I arose.  After she returned and packed the cooler, and after Jeff got the boat trailer affixed to the Sweltermobile, we all hopped in and made our way to the marina.  Only a few minutes’ drive south of their house and you find yourself in the hot, flat, agricultural belly of the Everglades.  Long, straight roads run along canals that pierce deep into palm groves and banana farms.  Being a week day, the marina was mostly deserted, and we didn’t have to wait at all to launch the boat.  Sandi and Jeff have it down, so Kathleen and I didn’t even need to help; we just got on and got going.  While we were idling toward open waters, we all applied sunscreen, and though I was methodical in my application thereof, I still felt nervous all afternoon, since the day was perfectly clear and the sun was exceptionally strong.  Taking Jeff’s advice, I borrowed a long-sleeved shirt to wear.  It seems counter-intuitive to wear long sleeves on a ninety-five-degree day, but it was a wise choice.  I didn’t get sunburned anywhere.  Kathleen, alas, was scorched, though I am sure I saw Sandi helping her apply sunscreen.

Biscayne Bay is long and wide, and the southern portion from whence we set out sits along the western edge of the national park, which is comprised of mangrove islands.   Jeff had evidently had some engine work done on the boat, and was therefore expecting that we’d be able to cruise across the water at high speed.  Something was wrong, however, and the engine didn’t want to run above about 3,500 RPM.  Having never been on their boat I didn’t know any difference, but Jeff did, and he was frustrated.  But he got it working right, and, as it turned out, speeding across the water was my favorite part of our boating experience.  I’ve been on many different watercraft in my life, but aside from ferries and vaporetti and the like, they have been almost exclusively sailing boats.  I hadn’t traveled at such speeds across open water.  It was nice.

We selected a swimming spot in a natural channel between two small islands, dropped anchor and dove in.  The water was extremely warm, and, thus, not particularly refreshing, but swimming was still fun.  The current was strong there, so I tied a line for us to all hold on to so we wouldn’t have to work hard just to keep from floating away.  I snorkeled a little, Jeff a lot.  Climbing back into the boat was something that nobody had ever tried on that boat, but we all proved perfectly capable.  I probably had the hardest time of anyone, since I opted for the pull-up method as opposed to the step-up method the others used.  I just found the step-up method awkward to negotiate.  Once back in the boat I was immediately bitten by a horse fly.

We spent several hours out on the water, and since everyone had had some food while at sea, nobody was dying when Jeff had to go off for a while to do some work once we returned home.  But he was back a couple hours later, and we all headed to a pizza restaurant called the Big Cheese.  They had taken Miriam and me there years ago, but I had forgotten how affordable it was.  Jeff, Sandi, Kathleen and I all ate for thirty dollars and change.  And Jeff got a huge calzone.

Day Three

Wednesday we had a pretty lazy day.  We didn’t leave the house until almost noon, and then it was to go to Cracker Barrel for lunch.  I don’t recall doing anything for the rest of the day except swim in the pool.  At night we went to Sonny’s where we had an unbelievably sassy waitress named Fallon.  She was incredibly sarcastic, but Jeff found it a refreshing change of pace from the otherwise bland and snobby Miami servers.  On our way out I held the door open for a policeman, and for a brief instant I worried that I might assault him.  That’s how much Grand Theft Auto we had played.  When we got back home I spent an hour or so monitoring an eBay auction (I won!) while the others played Tetris.  While Jeff and I chatted about the array of awesome G.I. Joe action figures, vehicles, and playsets we each owned as a child–and how, as adults, we are entirely able to buy as many of these items as we’d like–we theorized that we were doing exactly what little kids assume adults are doing at any given moment: playing video games, shopping for toys, eating junk food, staying up late, etc.

Day Four

Thursday was to be our last day, and we spent the first part of it heading down to Florida City to a place called Robert Is Here.  It’s a roadside produce stand that also serves fruit shakes and smoothies.  Sadly, vanilla didn’t appear to be an option, but they had numerous creative flavors besides.  Next we headed down a long, straight two-lane road until we got nearly to Key Largo and ate lunch at a placed called Alabama Jack’s, which has great significance to Jeff and Sandi.  I didn’t care for my food, but everyone else seemed quite satisfied, and, stuffed, we headed back home.

The last part of the day was spent packing and swapping photos.  Both Kathleen and I experienced battery failure during the trip, so during our maritime adventures neither of us took photos.  On the other hand, Kathleen took many more pictures at Robert Is Here, and I took many more during our sitting-around times at the house.  Together, we all documented the fun pretty well.

We left close to six o’clock on Thursday afternoon.  We made a last pit stop near their house to get some food.  Sandi had a little card that entitled her to a summer’s worth of free Frostys at Wendy’s.  She was generous enough to let me have it.  It was refreshing.  And hilariously small.  While there was moderate traffic heading north, it wasn’t absurd.  The first couple hours of the drive are entirely suburban, where the Turnpike–which we entered at Exit 2–runs along the western edge of Miami, Miramar, Hollywood, Ft. Lauderdale, Pompano Beach, Delray Beach, Boynton Beach, West Palm Beach, and so on, until turning to the west at Fort Pierce for the long, entirely agricultural stretch south Orlando.  We saw a beautiful sunset somewhere near Okeechobee County.  After darkness fell the air conditioning worked much better, and the drive was substantially quieter and more comfortable.  Sandi and I talked at great length about drywall and her kitchen remodel, which, though only halfway done, looks wonderful.  Kathleen enjoyed her iPod in the back seat.  We made two stops: the first for food in St. Lucie County, the second for gas in Micanopy, only fifteen or so miles from home.  We took Highway 441 for the last half-hour of the drive.  It was a relief to be off the Interstate, and it felt wonderful to be home.

The whole trip, while short, was actually exactly what I had wanted it to be.  There was almost no pressure to do more than we felt like doing at any one moment, and we had many opportunities to simply relax, swim, talk, and play video games.  So, thank you to Jeff and Sandi for being such gracious hosts.  Next time: night boat.

On a hot Sunday back in mid-June, eleven of us met at Matt and Kerri’s house in the morning, then carpooled up to the park.  Kat and Laura rode with us, and our convoy stopped at Ichetucknee Tube Center in Fort White – the first place we came to.  Choosing a tube is a matter of personal preference.  Like Kyle, I opted for the smooth, clear variety.  Like Sarah Jean, Miriam chose a big blue tube.  The shirtless man with skin like leather took our nine dollars and helped us load our tubes.  It’s a procedure that he seemed to have mastered, but as we learned, it wasn’t so simple.

Matt and Kerri rode with Sara, and as we drove behind them we noticed that their tubes were flailing wildly on the back of her SUV.  They were whipping about so violently that we were certain they would soon be jettisoned.  There was a car between us as this was happening, and it began to slow down as its driver, no doubt, recognized what was about to happen.  When the tubes did fly away, that car avoided running them over.  Sara realized she had lost her cargo, and stopped down the road a ways.  I stopped our car and ran into the road to save the tubes.  Sara pulled off the road, and as she and Matt re-secured the payload, they discovered the cause of the disaster: the twine the leathery man used to tie the tubes had been rubbing against a sharp piece of plastic along the back portion of Sara’s car; the rope was sliced through.  With the tubes safely stowed we continued the short distance to the park, where the car with Robin, Sarah Jean, Adrienne, and Kyle was waiting for us.

We parked our cars, and as Kat inflated her two red tubes, I changed into my river-ready clothes, and switched from sneakers into flip-flops.  I had taken my Nikon camera with me and I used it to take a great group photo before we set out to catch the tram to take us up the river.  Knowing it would be foolish to take a digital camera into the water, I had purchased a waterproof disposable camera ahead of time, and I used it to photograph our river run.  It stayed attached to my wrist with a rubber band.

I am always nervous when I get to the bank of the river.  Like all of Florida’s spring-fed rivers, the Ichetucknee is seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit all year.  While that makes it refreshing on a hot summer day, diving into the cold water still takes your breath away.  Some people wade in slowly, trying to get acclimated instead of shocked.  I find that that is useless.  Plus, on a busy weekend, taking your sweet time can irritate those in line behind you.  I just drop my tube in the water and jump into it.  I squeal, of course, but it beats the alternative.  The water moves swiftly, and if you mean to keep together with your pals that have already–or not yet–entered the river, you have to do some paddling.  It took us a couple minutes, but we all got in the water, and thanks to Robin, who wore flippers and swam like a Rhinemaiden, we were united.

The strategy for keeping together on the river varies from group to group.  Some don’t worry about it, and simply spread out.  Some bring rope and tie their tubes together, forming, in effect, one large raft.  That has its drawbacks, chief of which is inflexibility.  The Ichetucknee, like any pristine river, is wild, and its banks are lined with downed trees and limbs.  Below the surface of the water, logs and limbs, often invisible to the eye, wait to snag tubes.  You sometimes see groups of tethered tubers struggling to dislodge themselves from such an obstacle.  On our June excursion, we opted for the more flexible “grab-hold” system.  Each of us held on to the handle of the tube next to us.  When hazards appeared we were able to quickly reconfigure to avoid disaster.  And should one of us chance to be left behind, Robin the mermaid was there to tow him or her back to the party.

Passionate tubers arrive at the park early in the morning in order to ride the river all the way from the spring itself, a process which takes several hours.  In general, if you go after ten o’clock it’s too late to do the whole river.  We certainly did not arrive in time, but we decided to make two runs from the halfway point, with a break for lunch in between.

Everyone had brought some sort of foodstuff, and back at our cars we set our tubes on the ground and ate.  I was delighted that Matt and Kerri brought IBC cream soda, which is a rare and special treat for me.  Miriam made a potato salad that everyone seemed to love, and people ate it with chips made out of dried beets.  It was blazing hot in the parking lot, so we didn’t bother waiting the suggested hour before returning to the river.  We reapplied sunscreen and hoofed it back to the tram and down once more to the river’s half-way mark.

Since I had totally dried out in the hot sun, I still gasped when I leaped into the chilly water.  But our second run was more relaxing than the first.  We had gotten the lay of the land, so to speak, and knew what hazards to watch out for.  So when a downed tree forced tubers through a narrow safe channel, or when the rare snail habitat came up quickly around a bend, we were ready to avoid them.  The river was somewhat less crowded, and I remember looking up at the sun shining through the cypress trees and thinking how enjoyable the whole experience was.

There are no signs on the Ichetuckneee River telling tubers how far they are from the end of the run.  You just become familiar with the landmarks on the way.  The fallen tree that hangs over the water that people jump from; the cave; and the power lines all provide clues to your whereabouts.  The power lines mean you’re near the end.  You see them crossing over the river, then around the next bend a sign tells tubers to move to the left to exit.  The river ahead becomes rougher, apparently, and further on it exits the park altogether.  A net is there to catch any tubes or riders that miss the exit.  If you do it right you can stay seated in your tube until you are safely over the dock, then stand up without completely submerging yourself.  We all made it out alive.  Robin distributed our flip-flops, which she had carried with her in a mesh bag for safety.  We walked together up to the tube drop-off, and waited for the tram to take us back to the parking lot.  It was late in the afternoon, and we were all starving, but it was a Sunday, so our hopes for dinner at Conestoga’s in “downtown beautiful Alachua” were thwarted.  In fact, all the restaurants we thought of nearby were closed.  We returned to Gainesville.

We returned to the Ichetucknee again in August.  Kyle and Adrienne couldn’t make it then, but a few other friends could, including Emma, and Kerri’s sister Kristen.  Sara brought her twin brother, and he seemed to enjoy it a great deal.  We had a full-scale picnic, complete with barbecue.  It was twice as crowded then, but still very fun.

The Ichetucknee is seventy-two degrees year-round, but I suppose it will be next summer before I go back down to the river.

Sunday was the day before Memorial Day, and I really felt I would like to go to Arlington National Cemetery on our way out of Washington.  Unfortunately for us, thousands of bikers had the same idea, and all the streets heading that direction were closed.  Traffic was extremely congested, but the weather was nice.

We had checked out of the hotel and paid our parking bill earlier.  I had made a quick trip through the White House Visitor’s Center, in a wonderful old building just across Pershing Park from our hotel, and purchased and mailed some postcards.  We were both hungry.

Miriam is especially fond of a D.C. restaurant called Open City which we frequented while on our last trip.  We were staying at the Omni Shoreham then, so Open City was the closest possible restaurant to us.  From the Willard, however, we had to drive.  I was looking for Connecticut Avenue, but missed it somehow, and we soon found ourselves in the residential neighborhoods north of downtown.  It was interesting to see how busy the shops and restaurants were: the sidewalks were packed with people going this way and that.  We got back on track, found our way to Open City, where I let Miriam out to reserve a table while I found a place to park.  The latter was no easy task, since the National Zoo is in that neighborhood, and the holiday and nice weather had everyone out and about.  I ultimately found street parking on the most pleasant lane I’d ever seen.  A mother and daughter were gardening in front of their house, and I asked the lady to summarize the parking rules for me.  Parking on one side of the street was reserved for a church four four hours on Sunday, but I’d be fine on the other side.  So I moved the car–right next to an awesome Corvair–and made my way to the restaurant.  Miriam was still waiting outside when I arrived, and we had to wait many minutes more.  But it was worth it.  Open City is charming and bright.  Indeed, the long wall of windows can be totally opened on nice days.  The food was as good as we expected.  We walked together back to the car, remembering our earlier holiday when the area around the Woodley Park-Zoo/Adams Morgan Metro stop was our turf.  If we ever move to Washington, we tell ourselves, that is where we’d like to live.

Driving out of the city was bittersweet: we were sad to leave with so much still left to do, but we had so much left to do elsewhere.  (Actually, it was bitterangrysweet, since the traffic was a nightmare and the bikers were outrageously loud.)  But we soon crossed the Potomac and were back in Virginia heading west on Interstate 66, passing Arlington, Falls Church, Tysons Corner, Merrifield, and Centreville.  I had a strong urge to exit in Manassas to visit the national battlefield, but resisted, mostly because I knew it would consume the remainder of our day, and we were determined to reach Charlottesville.

Somewhere near Gainesville, Virginia, I got it in my head that I would like to see Shenandhoah National Park.  I have always wanted to see it, actually, but couldn’t imagine a circumstance in which I would, since I knew it was unlikely to ever be a destination in and of itself.  But since we were so close, and since my free traveler’s map of Virginia (which I got at the visitor’s center) showed me it was a very minor detour en route to Charlottesville, I changed course slightly, and we headed south into the rural heart of western Virginia.  It was beautiful, actually.  Farms and fields stretched out in all directions around us, and the road passed over rolling hills for miles and miles.  The road itself–Highway 211, or Lee Highway–was in excellent condition, and traffic was very light.  We stopped for drinks and fuel somewhere near the ominously-named Amissville, but even that was nice.  We reached the western edge of the national park with plenty of time to meander down the Skyline Drive and still make Charlottesville before dark.

Shenandoah National Park charges admission, but I had no objections whatever, since I’m sure the National Park Service isn’t as well funded as it ought to be, and, in any case, I’ve wasted fifteen dollars on worse things countless times.  Anyone who has traveled along the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina will understand what driving through Shenandoah is like.  The only difference is that at the overlooks on the west side of the Drive, you look out over the Shenandoah Valley, and see the fabled river meandering along.  I kept thinking of the old, sad song:

It was a gorgeous day, and though the park was not crowded per se, there were plenty of cars enjoying the same drive.  We stopped repeatedly to explore the various overlooks, both facing east and facing west.  It was late in the day, and the lower angle of the sun combined with haze down in the valleys made the mountains look blue.  As the day wore on we determined that further stopping would be inadvisable, so we continued south down Skyline Drive, through mountains, through meadows, past animals, and so on, until we reached Highway 33, where I thought it wise to leave the park and head back southeast to Charlottesville.  There is a more southerly exit to Shenandoah National Park that would have spit us out near Interstate 64, but the extra miles along Skyline Drive would have easily taken an additional two hours.  I was satisfied with what I had seen.

As we drove back east toward Charlottesville, the high mountains began to gradually disappear behind us, until we were once again in the midst of rolling fields and farmland.  We made good time on the open roads and soon enough were at the northern edge of Charlottesville.

On Friday, 15 May, our friends Matt and Kerri, who had been legally married for several months, finally hosted a reception at the Thomas Center gardens in northeast Gainesville.  Miriam and I dressed pretty and arrived somewhat early, so that we observed the caterers setting up tables and the band plugging in instruments.  Soon enough, all our other friends arrived, food was served, and Matt and Kerri wandered around greeting everyone.  There was an open bar, so I took advantage and drank many an IBC Root Beer.  The gardens looked beautiful after dark, since the newlyweds had carefully strung lights and hung decorations.  They gave out as favors some fake mustaches, and many guests were wearing them.  The band was talented, and though people didn’t dance so much, everyone appeared to be having a good time.  Such a good time, in fact, that some time after nine o’clock the police arrived.  Kerri greeted the officer wearing a fake mustache and explained that she and Matt had obtained a noise permit in advance.  The party continued.  In fact, it would have kept going had the Thomas Center staff not begun removing the tables and chairs.  It was well after ten o’clock when we all disbanded, but only to be parted for a few hours.

Many of the party guests were roller derby girls, and the team was holding a car wash the following morning at Coffee Culture on 13th Street.  That place seems to like the Gainesville Roller Rebels: they even have a drink called a “Ruby Typhoon”.  The team had held successful car washes there before, and this was a good opportunity to raise money for charity.  Miriam and others arrived quite early, but I stopped by later on my way to work.  I was glad that Harris was there.  He’s fun to talk to.   Sara brought Coleslaw, which amused everyone.  Tradition has it that everyone will meet at Big Lou’s following a GRR carwash, and when I got out of work I rode my bike over there.  Alas, we sat outside in the sweltering heat.

While I went Swimming at Kat and Harris’ apartment, Miriam spent the afternoon preparing food to take to a surprise birthday party for our friend Kyle that his girlfriend Adrienne was holding at her apartment.  Guests were advised to dress like Kyle, which for some meant wearing glasses.  Many of Kyle’s friends were there, and we all socialized until he was brought home unaware, we hoped, of the party that was waiting for him.  Kyle thought he was just coming over to Adrienne’s for a quiet dinner after having some drinks with friends at the Top.  You know how you become suspicious when your birthday is coming up, and people begin acting strange?   As the party went on, and reports came in describing Kyle’s whereabouts, we began to worry that the secret would get out.  At one point, Matt, who was with Kyle, informed Adrienne that Kyle had wanted to go to his own apartment.  This was bad, because all the party guests had parked in front of Kyle’s apartment.  When he observed the vehicles of all his friends he would be sure something was up.  But we hid anyway.  Some of us hid, that is.  A few friends stayed in the dining room, figuring that we could still get him even if he was suspicious by making him think that he was having a small party, then, Surprise!, we all jump out of Adrienne’s bedroom and it’s a big party.  So Adrienne tells us it’s time to hide, and we go in her room and turn off the lights and wait.  Kerri and I kept watch out the window, waiting for the boys to come up the steps.  After what seemed like forever, they finally arrived.  When he entered the house Adrienne was going to ask him to fetch something for her from her bathroom.  Sure enough, he opened the door, and I think we almost gave him a heart attack, if not from the surprise itself, then from the sheer amplitude of our shouting.  Everyone ate because there was seriously a lot of food, and Adrienne presented Kyle with a cake.  We partied until the early morning hours.

The next day (Sunday), Miriam and I awoke and readied ourselves for a little day trip to St. Augustine and the beach.  The weather was nice, and after a long search we found good parking in the old historic district of the city.  Everywhere you looked couples were walking hand-in-hand.  Unfortunately, the service was terrible at the restaurant where we ate lunch.  But after that unpleasant experience we took A1A south to Marineland and found a nearly deserted stretch of beach.  By the time we left we were the only ones there.  Alas, I forgot my camera, so all I got were cellphone pictures.  But it was a lovely Sunday, and the perfect end to an epic weekend.

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the first excursions out of San Juan that we made was to the mountainous interior of the island.  On the same day we went to the Arecibo observatory, we had also planned to visit the Parque de las Cavernas del Río Camuy. Alas, when we reached the park gate, the attendant told us that all that day’s tickets had been distributed.  We would have to return later in the week.

We left San Juan early on a Sunday morning to make the drive back to Camuy.  We reached the park and got two of the limited number of tickets that would be distributed that day.  Once inside I understood why they had to limit access.

Visitors wait at a covered area near the park entrance and wait for their number to be called.  When it’s your turn, you line up on a wooden ramp before boarding a motorized tram.  The tram follows a winding path down the mountain and stops at the bottom, where everyone steps off and the fun begins.

Through a narrow opening in the rock, a path leads into the cave.  Near the opening, a little sunlight peeks through and some vegetation grows, but deeper in it becomes dark, and nothing does.  Some electric lights prevent total blackness and inevitable injury on the sharp limestone formations that cover the floor.  After a short walk you come upon a domed chamber of overwhelming size.  I can’t give any technical details, but believe me when I say it was enormous.  The tallest building in Gainesville could easily have fit inside with room to spare.

We were warned repeatedly not to touch anything in the cave, and at a low spot near the end of the cavern we saw why.  All the water that flows down the walls of the cavern makes its way to a pool near the opening at the far end.  In that pool are micro-organisms that live only in that cave, and nowhere else on earth.

Exiting the cavern at the far end, you find yourself near the bottom of an extraordinary sinkhole.  It isn’t anything like the sinkholes you find in Florida, which are wide and shallow.  This was a pit hundreds of feet deep, with a narrow opening to the sky at the top, ringed by trees.  A waterfall splashed down to the floor, which was still some distance below us.  Some way off you can see the opening of another cave that looked to be smaller than the one you just exited.  But as you approach that cave, you realize that it is huge.  A large aircraft could have flown comfortably through the opening.  We were not allowed to get near that cave though, which is off-limits to all but a few trained spelunkers.

Back in the giant cavern, you head along a different path and soon hear the sound of rushing water.  None is visible anywhere, but the sound becomes louder until it is clear that a raging river is near.  That river is, in fact, down a deep, black crevasse.  I had a terrible vision of falling down, and being washed into the abyss.  I realized I was in Xanadu:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

I believe that that cavern may be the single most impressive natural wonder I have ever beheld.  Alas, the darkness within the cave made photography extremely difficult.  That is why I have few good pictures.

For similar reasons, I have even fewer photographs of another natural wonder we visited near the end of our trip.  At the far eastern end of the island, near the town of Fajardo, there is a small city park along the water.  It looks a lot like any waterside park in Florida, with picnic areas and a boat ramp.  But shortly before dusk each night, trucks hauling trailers loaded with kayaks line up along the sea wall, and the tourists begin donning life jackets.  The guides distribute collect shoes, distribute paddles, and assign kayaks, and as the sun sets, everyone begins rowing across the marina.  At the other side, you enter a narrow channel through the mangroves, which tower over your head and in some places form a tunnel over head.  Moving with the tide it takes about twenty minutes, and when you arrive in a large open lagoon it is already dark.

The first thing I noticed was the sky.  Except for some low fog around the mountains that circle the lagoon, it was clear, and I saw more stars than I’d seen since I was a child.  The guides turned off the glowing sticks mounted to the rear of each kayak, and then the only artificial light came from the lighthouse on the mountain.  Looking down, it was immediately apparent to me why this lagoon is so special: the water glows.  Microscopic animals living in the water emit a powerful light when disturbed.  Scooping the water in my hands, I could discern each individual point of light, though the animals themselves are much too small to see.  When I ran my arm through the water, all the individuals shined together, and it looked as though there was a bright blue light beneath the surface.

The tour guide, in his own kayak, explained how those organisms required very particular conditions to live, and how that lagoon was one of only a handful of places were they could be found.  Two similar environments could be found elsewhere in Puerto Rico, but they are not as well protected and one, in Ponce, has been virtually ruined by motorized boats and swimmers.  In Fajardo, swimming is prohibited, and only kayaks and canoes are allowed in.  Moreover, the lagoon was practically a secret: Miriam grew up in Fajardo and never heard about it while she lived there.

After about a half hour, we began paddling back to the marina.  The tide was against us, though, and it took almost three times as long to make it through the mangrove maze as before.  We were further slowed by kayakers from another tour coming in.  In the mangroves, it was almost totally dark.  We made it back to the park where we had left our car, and began driving back to San Juan.  It was hard to get that glowing lagoon out of my mind.

Near Aguadilla, at the far west end of the island, we visited where I rode a horse for the first time.  The Paso Fino is an easy-to-ride horse that originated in Puerto Rico, which was good for me, because I wasn’t sure what to expect.  My horse practically rode herself.  When I pulled back on the reins she stopped, and she never refused to move to what ever side I directed her.  I was placed at the back of a short line of horses because my horse apparently didn’t like having other horses behind her.  But Miriam was two horses ahead of me, and I wanted to catch up.  I wasn’t supposed to, but I did it anyway when our guide wasn’t looking.  We had set out from the ranch, rode across a grove of trees, over a dune, and were on a deserted beach.  The horses didn’t seem to mind trotting through the water, though it was a little scary when they got close the the edge of a dune.

After about twenty minutes or riding along the shore, we reached a rocky outcrop.  We tied the horses up to some trees, and climbed along the rocks to near the entrance of a sea cave.  The tide was too high and the surf was too rough to get any closer, but it was still fun.

The ride back was hard.  Someone at the front of the convoy made his horse run, then all the horses wanted to run.  Paso Finos a smooth riders, but the trotting still made my shoulder hurt.  Still, it was a fun and memorable experience.  I had never done more than pet a horse before, so getting to ride one along a beach was wonderful.  And getting to ride one along a remote beach, away from anything man-made, was even better.

The caverns, the bio-luminescent bay, and the horseback riding were the highlights of our vacation to Puerto Rico.

The trip here, in a rented Hyundai Sonata, was surprisingly comfortable.  That’s a good little car.  It has every luxury, and appears to get incredibly good mileage.  We made a brief stop in Savannah for lunch, then arrived in South Carolina around 4:30.  This area differs from coastal Florida in a number of ways, though the most immediately obvious is the presence of trees, which is striking, considering how many hurricanes come through here.  Every shopping center and parking lot is wooded, and, in fact, the shopping areas are set back from the road, so you see unobtrusive signs along the street, in front of a wall of pine and oak.

The hotel is nice, if sprawling.  The hallways are long and the pool area covers a giant swath of land in the middle of the complex.  The balcony of our room looks over a pond with a fountain, and at night the frogs are very active.  The lobby is handsome, with elaborate wood paneling and millwork, and as I write people are enjoying complimentary lemonade and some other drink with whole strawberries in it.  This morning I attempted to get started reading Robinson Crusoe, but the splashing and cavorting of the guests at the pool, and the sound of the waves was too distracting for me.  I have been watching the swimming events from the Olympics on television.

Last night we went for a lovely walk along the beach, and it took us quite a distance north from our hotel.  The shore in front of the hotel had a goodly number of bathers, but a short distance up the coast it was practically deserted, and there were all manner of birds and bivalves and crabs.

The weather today is surprisingly cool, in the mid 70s, I’d say. It feels like Florida in the winter, since it’s also a bit overcast at the moment.  In a few minutes we’re going into town to have lunch and look at some old antebellum houses.

I foolishly forgot the power supply to my laptop, so I can only use this computer for as long as I have charge.  If  I don’t write again until Wednesday that is why.  The most unfortunate aspect of my absent-mindedness is that I won’t get to edit the photographs from the wedding I shot in St. Augustine last month.  That will be my top priority when I return to Gainesville.

First, the Jacksonville Roller Girls have been unbelievably good to the GRR.  They have coached the GRR girls and offered countless pointers, JRG girls have come down to Gainesville, even, to help out: Anita Hardone did a radio interview with Ms. Rebel a few weeks ago to promote the the first bout. 

So, it was beyond kind for the Jacksonville Roller Girls to allow the GRR girls to debut in the context of a mixed-team competition.  Occasionally, derby teams’ first competitions will be against an established teams B-squad.  The Jax Girls don’t have a B-squad, and in a head-to-head contest against the GRR girls a blowout would be certain.  So this competition featured two teams–Preps and Punks–made up of a mix of Jax and Gainesville girls.  Miriam was a Prep, and wore a collared shirt with a necklace.  The punks probably had it easier fashionwise, but each team did a good job. 

The morning began early with a practice, and a review of how the match would proceed.  There is a little stagecraft involved, primarily orchestrating the way the teams will skate out onto the rink, and this bout involved a shoolyard pick.  Once that portion of the practice was done we all went to get lunch, and then split into groups for leisure activities.  Miriam and I joined Black-Out Brady and Sidless Nancy and headed up to the beach, where her fiance’s sister and brother-in-law have a house and a million bicycles.  We formed an impromptu gang and ruled the streets and the beach.  It was a delight.

Getting back to the Mandarin Skate Station in the late afternoon, the GRR girls found that the Jax girls had given them gift bags.  It was such a kind thing to do.  Steve and Kathleen had come and were running the merchandise table.  Spectators were showing up and taking their suicide seats.  Once the bout started it went fast.  Roller Derby is a fast game, and the jammers have to move especially quickly.  There were some serious spills, but the girls got right back up and kept on skating.  It was awesome.  You can see the full gallery here.

This weekend was the Downtown Festival and Arts Show, which takes place every year in November. Mrs. Hill and I have been many times, and this year’s was much like the others, with countless booths of framed photographs, handicrafts, paintings, sculpture, and so on. There was also an array of unhealthy carnival-style food, like funnel cakes, and a booth that had just about everything people usually eat, but in fried form. There was free cheese, and even Sonic was there.

What was fun about this year’s festival was seeing so many people we knew. Dan and Heather were there with Ayler, looking happy as ever, and our other friend named Heather was there with her boyfriend Brian, enjoying an unusual day off from his job at Sweetwater Branch. Plus, on our bike ride downtown, we saw Danielle, our hairdresser, watering the plants in her front yard, and we stopped and chatted.

The weather was perfect, the dancing was entertaining, and the Spammobile was there.

After an hour, with no indication of when our meal would arrive, we heard our young, but surprisingly haggard waitress tell the table next to us that there was some sort of kitchen calamity. She didn’t bother telling us, but we did receive our food at 11:45, an hour and fifteen minutes after we arrived. Some diners simply got up and left.

Had our waitress been more communicative, or had she simply said that there was a problem in the kitchen, we’d have just shrugged it off. But the servers were visibly fighting with the management and the kitchen staff, no doubt concerned that their tips would suffer. Still, as we left after noon, the older fellow at the register–whom I took to be a manager–practically insulted me for suggesting the wait was abnormal. “McDonald’s is down the road”, he said.

In spite of that, however, I know that he knew that something was amiss, since our waitress and the other young server we saw had both been pleading with him to do something about the catastrophe unfolding around them.

I’ve never liked Jeff’s Deli, and simply needed an excuse to never return. So, perhaps I should thank them for giving me–and a restaurant full of angry people–a perfect one.