Paradise Found... and Lost...and Found

Almost everyone who knows me knows how much I love sea glass.  I've incorporated it into many of my recent jewelry pieces, so as you can imagine I was eager to see if I could find some of my own during our recent trip to the Virgin Islands. 

I made friends with a girl that ran a local gift shop on one of the islands, and asked her in passing if there was any sea glass to be found. She knew of one place it was common – and gave me directions.  No one else in our group seemed interested in this remote "locals only" beach, so I resolved to spend a little 'alone time' with my favorite person in the world.. my son.



We rose early the next morning at oh-my-gosh-o'clock, ate a bagel, and hurried to the lobby of our hotel.  There, we searched for a taxi willing to take us from our hotel to the secret beach. Only one of the dozen-or-so cab drivers recognized the instructions.  He had been a boy scout in his youth and knew that trail well.  Fortune seemed to be smiling on us... and we set out for our adventure.

 

***A quick sidenote about Manchineel trees.  The sap of these is quite caustic and will literally burn the skin off your bones.  They also bear delicious-looking, persimmon-looking fruit that is VERY TOXIC,  known as the Death Apple (see the the unripe one on the top right of the sign above).  Just about every other fruit on the island is free game.***




Our beach was detectable from the road only by a small sign nailed to a telephone pole (above).  This trail, according to our driver, was was very steep -- especially hard to scale after a day of frolic -- which is why there were ropes along both sides of the trail for climbers to grasp (rather than using the trees to hold you up).  The trail was lined with manchineel trees, which made your balance and sure-footed-ness more critical.   Dropping us off at the trail head, Jimmy offered that if he didn’t see us back at the hotel by 5pm, he would come for us personally -- as he didn’t want us scaling that trail in the dark,  That, he said, would surely spell disaster.  He told us of nearby residents that would be happy to help us if we ran into trouble.  You've gotta love an island where people look out for each other. :)

I thanked him, tipped him well, and stepped off the street into the dense forest. I was excited to be exploring again -- and eager to discover if there was any sea glass to be found. The signage made it clear that the locals had laid claim to this special stretch of seaside:

 

Jimmy wasn't joking about the steep grade, which continued for about 1/4 mile before leveling off.  However, the roots made natural steps, and the ropes made a great handrail/barrier from the manchineel trees.
 

As it leveled out, the trees encroached more on the trail.  At some points, the trail almost disappeared.
 

 

The dense vegitation abruptly opened to reveal the most pristine beach I have ever seen. It made me catch my breath....

It was perfect. 

 

We were greeted by some locals - albeit not the type we expected:



In a National Park, it’s illegal to remove any shells, coral, etc from the beaches. Now I know why.
Everywhere we looked we saw shells, sand dollars, sponges, coral, sea urchins.. It was all there, just as nature deposited it.

Our beach was just like the ones I'd read about in story books -- nothing like the sterile or polluted beaches I'd seen on the mainland that had been stripped of everything that had washed ashore. There was something magical about how richly layered the variety of wildlife we saw here -- strewn across the sand.
 

 

 Aside from sea glass (which is actually trash – wink), we picked up things only long enough to photograph them. Photos smell better in your bags, anyway. 

 

 

This may very well be the smallest sea urchin I have ever seen.

 

Different varieties of sponges littered the shore...

 

 

...as well as more coral than I have seen anywhere.

 

 

 

 

Check out the huge piece of coral Aisah found! It made me wish I had hauled along our snorkel gear. I had to wonder what treasures lay hidden just behind the breakers.

 

 

 

 

We walked all the way to the rocky point between bays.  I wanted to see the bay on the other side, but we couldn't keep on task.  There was so much to see, such as a wall of solid Picasso jasper..

 

 

 

..amazing views... 

 

 

 

 

..amazing photo ops..

 

 

 

 

We even made friends with another local along the way. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I checked the time and decided it was finally time to turn around.  I was already feeling the effects of the sun on my cheeks and the not-so-distant rumblings of fatigue.  I wrapped my sweater loosely around my head (a la Lawrence of Arabia), took one last swig of water and offered the rest to Aisah. 

 

The beach was on a sharp slope, and with the coarse sand which easily fell away under my feet, the walk out to the point had already been physically difficult at my weight.   I had seriously underestimated how much water we’d need, how much energy would be required for the trek, and how low my potassium (which I struggle with) would get.   Not a good combination.  I rapidly lost my enthusiasm and my survival instinct took over. 

 

My brother, whose enthusiasm often determines our group's agenda, is one of those type-A ‘you-snooze-you-lose’ types who has been known to leave 'slowpokes' in the dust.  Concerned we might be left behind, I rallied myself -- determined to get us back to the trail head in time.  I forced out of my mind the knowledge that we had several miles of beach back to the trail head, followed by ¼ mile incline. The landscape in my mind was 'HURRY'.

Taking the necessary rests only when absolutely necessary, my own enthusiasm began to deteriorate.  Yet, when feelings of hopelessness loomed, we were blessed intermittently with cloud banks and brief, light rain to take the edge off the heat.  God gave me just what I needed to keep going.




Nearing the trail head, we stopped on a small rock at the shoreline (bottom of this photo) to purge our shoes of the sand that had amassed in our shoes.  Waves crashed around our ankles, threatening to take our shoes out to sea -- but they got the job done.  I had no more excuses to avoid the steep climb.


With our shoes seemingly pounds lighter, we hurried up into the forest.  I had to stop many times on the way for air, as I was becoming increasingly dizzy and disoriented.   I had always treasured being alone with Aisah, and prized my independence --  but now I felt vulnerable for the first time.   I had never questioned any of my ‘go it alone’ decisions – even camping alone in the Rockies and assorted back road excursions -- until now.   Aisah, being young and trim, had no difficulty running up and down (and up and down) the beach, and had no difficulty scaling the hill.  I had been wise to give more of the water to him, as I was now in no shape to be able to fend for him.  I was beyond dehydrated.. beyond hot.  My heart was dancing a polka in my chest, and I my heartbeat pounded in my eyes.  I hated being overweight and out of shape (in my defense, I've had 15 surgeries and battled chronic illness) but regardless of the cause, I was completely demoralized.  I remembered being fit and trim... longed to be that way again and lamented my circumstances -- and my newfound vulnerability.

When we reached the summit, we surveyed the street.  Miraculously, it was 12:00 noon precisely.  Alas, there were no cars in sight.  I decided we should head toward the local's house that Jimmy had told us about -- who would be more than happy to call us a taxi if need be -- or perhaps call our hotel room to see if we'd been forgotten.  I texted my family, telling them we were in desperate need of water -- and that we were in peril; but with the signal being so weak, I had no idea whether they had received my message.


We passed several vacation homes on the road, and I sent Aisah to ask for water from people sitting  outside on their deck.  The generously refilled our water bottle several times and made a rather tempting offer to let us cool off in their pool before setting off again; but there was the distinct possibility we'd be left behind if we weren't in the direct line of sight when our family arrived. 
Another sidenote:  Isn't this a crazy palm tree??  It's called a Foxtail Palm -- and its leaves are really soft.

 

We continued down the road until we came to a "T".  I can’t remember ever being so exhausted (not even in the Rockies, climbing mountains) that I was trembling uncontrollably and on the verge of tears.  Memories of the dozen-plus hospital stays flooded my mind.  I thought of the countless times Aisah had visited me in the hospital, his wide-eyed fear and sadness as he he saw his defender laid defenseles --  with numerous tubes sticking out of me, monitors beeping, unable to speak with the breathing tube.  I refused to do that to him again. 

I was desperate for rest, for shade, for nutrients.. for comfort.  I felt strangely sleepy and held fast to the thought of staying awake.  I walked over to a the base of a tree in a vacant lot to sit down, and there -- on the backside of that base -- was a stalk of what looked like baby bananas (Banana Figs!!).  Not such a miracle, one could argue, because they grow wild all over the island.. except that there were no Banana Fig trees anywhere in sight.   This bunch had been recently cut, and laid cradled as though in wait.  The proverbial red bow would have only detracted from Who actually sent them to us.
 

I had heard Banana Figs were much more sweet and flavorful than bananas, but I was dubious.  I tasted one first -- cautiously -- and nearly burst into tears for the burst of flavor and relief.   Call it a result of the circumstances, but these were the sweetest, most amazing fruit I have ever tasted. As I ate, I not only felt revived -- I felt LOVED and nurtured.

For those of you that have never had your health stripped away by illness or battled with weight issues, let’s just say that in the land of tanned, svelte bodies I had been feeling discounted, invisible and demoralized.  It wasn't just my stomach  that these fruits filled --  and it wasn't just the physical trembling that they ceased.  They filled my soul and reminded me that although the world and I are both broken, and regardless of how unlovable I can sometimes feel,         I AM loved --  by the One That Matters Most.

There was no question Who put the banana figs there – or for whom. Regardless of who God had arranged to put them there (or under what pretense), they were exactly what we needed – exactly when we needed it.  There were  just enough for the two of us.

 

When our family drove up in the car a while later, they had no clue as to how close to disaster I’d come. What they saw instead was us smiling...revived, and joyful.  Instead of encountering a freaked-out boy standing near his unconscious mother, they walked in on the ending credits of an amazing story about how personal and specific God’s ability to meet our needs is. I’m sad to say significance of our tale fell largely on deaf ears, but Aisah got to witness the actions of a very personal, supernatural, loving God. That was the biggest gift of all.   

 

As a matter of fact, it was HUGE.  If things had been any different, Aisah would have been deprived of the opportunity to meet Abba... our Daddy.  And THAT was the biggest blessing of all -- knowing I was in line with God's perfect grace although I was far less than perfect.

God is soooooooo good!!

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