A nice surprise today

I had a shock today while my buddy, Roque - who refers to himself as Rocky - came by for a visit on his day off from his job in the restaurant here at the resort. He brought his brother, Walter along as well, but Walter is pretty quiet and speaks very little English. While staring into the water just on the other side of the dock, Rocky spotted an octopus. How cool! There is a small pile of crab shells and pieces of conch just downhill from where he sits, so I assume he has been here a while and this is home.

I am just thrilled at this, as this is the first time I have ever seen one in the wild. A blob, sitting on a rock in 18 inches of water. I took a few pics but they didn't show him very well and gave up. I took Roque and Walter out for a quick snorkle on the reef and he brought 2 small conch's back that he picked up in the sand, and we put them into the water just where the octopus was sitting. I got the above video just as he was moving over to inspect one of the conch's and just before he moves, you can see him shoot one tenacle out and miss taking one of the small fish who came to inspect the conch as well.

This is just a great thrill for me. I find it so - well - amazing. There were never any of these in any of my previous back yards and I am so blessed to see this today. I really hope that everyday when I step off AF, I can lean over the dock and see my neighbor. Is so much more cool than that baracuda.

Mexico bound? Nah.....

Jerry, the dock master here at Fantasy Island has put up FB posts recently saying that the management company here is leaving, turning the resort back to the owner of the property. The transfer is Nov. 1st. So Jerry is advertising for a cruiser who would like to transport about 1000 pounds of records and documents to Isla Mujeres, Mexico - off the coast of Cancun. Carlos, the manager here and a wonderful guy, came to me the other day to personally ask if I would consider doing it, and even offered to sweeten the pot, as this is not a free deal, but a paid service. But he appealed to my ego, saying it would be an 'adventure' and how much I love them.

I am actually considering it. Ha! It just happens that my friend Bart, who was a US Air captain, has remarked to me several times about this wonderful place he would fly over when landing or taking off from Cancun. Isla Mujeres. Said it is a place that I really ought to see and that he thinks I would love it there.

Is only about 300 nm each way. Maybe.......

My Dad and FDR

The Roosevelt Family Crest

During the 6 weeks that my dad was dying, his sister, Helen, who lives now in Ohio, visited several times. During one of her visits, she just had to tell a story about Dad that deserves re-telling. I should say now that Dad did not deny it, nor could he tell what had happened to the proof of the telling. He just averted his eyes and laughed.

My grandmother, Bessie Foster Doak, had a cousin, who must have been her best friend as well, as they stayed in touch and visited regularly throughout their lives. This cousin, known to me as Aunt Effy, was married to an incredible entrepreneur, named Severn Loeffler. Uncle Sef had done some incredible things in his lifetime - a real rags to riches story, apparently. He started off getting young boys to sell shoe strings on the streets of Washington. Later, during the Depression, he sold box lunches to the government and WPA workers, with this slogan - A good box lunch, during hard times, will only cost you, one thin Dime, or something like that anyway.

Uncle Sef built a huge roller skating rink in Washington, DC, (Dad said it drew in lots of soldiers) that had an ice rink beneath the wood floor, and brought the Norwegian beauty and Olympic gold metalist, Sonje Henne to the US to perform there - sort of an Ice Capades type show, I guess. (After coming to the US via Uncle Sef, she went on to Hollywood and became the highest paid actress at that time.)

It was said that Uncle Sef also sold the first ice cream cone in the District of Columbia.

But when I knew them, he owned the leases for the golf courses in Washington on the Tidal Basin and at Rock Creek Park, as well as many other businesses. Being a success in the golf course business, he and Aunt Effy took a world tour, visiting golf courses all around the world. He sent home 2 stuffed Koala Bears from Australia for my brother and me, and Dad had a wonderful Japanese lacquered parasol sent from Japan. During this round the world trip, he saw something in France, and brought the idea here, and built one at the Tidal Basin course. It was America's first miniature golf course.

(Dad was quite a patriot and wanted his sons to sight-see Washington. He took first my brother and cousin Chip, and years later, cousin Earl and me, to tour Washington and all of the landmarks, including Quantico, where Dad had finished his war time duty, in OCS, and each time stayed as house guests of Uncle Sef and Aunt Effy. On the first trip, in the late 50's I guess, he called Dad over to the front window to look out to see Rocky and Chip talking to 2 little girls on their bikes on the street. He asked Dad if he knew who they were and Dad had no clue. "They're the Vice-President's daughters. Nixon just lives up the street." When Earl and I were there, Dad called a politician he knew to arrange a White House tour for us, a visit to Congress, and lunch in the Congressional cafeteria, and we rode in the underground people-mover train. I cannot swear to it, but I remember very well looking up at this man who was hosting us, and I think that it was a young Orrin Hatch, who had been a friend of Dad's when he was a young lawyer in Pittsburgh.) Back to the story......

It was Uncle Sef's many contacts in the government that put him in a position to ask for a White House tour for his wife's visiting nephew and niece. I guess in those days, it wasn't so unusual for a private guided tour. So here we are. Aunt Helen described a Secret Service man - a possible embellishment- whose eyes must have been rolling with boredom, having to walk these 2 kids from Carnegie, PA through the White House on a personal tour. (When I was 14, I had a personal tour by the warden himself, of the Delaware State Penitentary - hardly the White House!) There are quite a few years difference in their ages, so perhaps Dad was i high school and Aunt Helen a grade schooler. Anyway, back to the story, when they were shown into the basement where FDR's swimming pool was installed, Aunt Helen said that there was a wooden bench off to the side, and above it, a line of hooks, from which hung old fashioned men's swimming suits, each with a patch sewn on with the Roosevelt family crest.

When they left the pool area, one of the suits was missing its patch. Apparently this guard was distracted long enough for Dad to take out his pocket knife and cut the stitching and pocket one, so he could take home a real White House souvenir.

Random Thoughts

Note to myself: Before putting on Crocs, shake them out, so I don't put my foot in to find ANOTHER crab inside.

Hatemonger - It is a word describing a person committing a vile act, but when does it really apply? Seems to me that most often today, someone who uses the word to label another is the one guilty of the act.

The economics of Honduras - minimum wage is $300 a month. That's what the workers at the fast food and the cleaners here probably make. To them, I am surely a very rich Gringo. The labor law here makes you give them a raise after the first 3 months, I think, and so if you lay them off for a few days just before the 3 month limit, you can re-hire them at the same low rate and the clock starts over again.

Honduran rats are very cautious and very fast.

When did MBA programs start to teach more about how to pinch another penny's profit without regard and less about how to run a business? Isn't part of running a business about growing a good workforce who is relatively content and well trained?

Why do the pockets of my new bathing suits always come out in a balloon of air when I am swimming? They never did this with other bathing suits, or at least, rarely. What if there was something important in them? Wouldn't the balloon lift it out and gravity drop it to the ocean floor?

The reef around Roatan is very beautiful - thriving with many kinds of colorful corals and many different varieties. It is why Roatan is considered one of the top diving locations in the world. But there are few large fish living there. Have the local people over-fished the area?

Did anyone else notice that when the TSA was formed and started to hire people to work in airport security lines, McDonald's and Burger King started to put up "Now Hiring" signs, because they lost so many folks to the new government bureacracy?

Velcro was an incredible invention. I am amazed at how clever people are in finding ways to use it - from the screens on some of the ports of the boat, to my sandles and bathing suit pockets. I understand there is even a storm sail that is to be used in the highest winds, that uses Velcro to attach itself OVER the reefed jib.

Jury rig is a very old nautical term, first showing up in writing in the 1600's and meaning a repair to a mast or spar. If a ship lost a mast in a storm, they usually did not carry any wood large enough to replace it. So they would take a spare spar or 2, and lash it to the stump of the old mast, and make it work until they could get to a port for a new one. The term has been bastardized by common usage to jerry rig and other variations. Reminds me of a friend who has a friend who calls a lag bolt, leg bolt. He just doesn't read well enough, and repeats what he thought he heard.

If you check in here once in a while, do you ever take the time to look at the Flag Counter at the bottom of the page, just before the pictures? (BTW, just noticed that this is my 101st post.) I am sure there are a lot of people in the world who browse Blogspot and just start flipping pages to see what the next blog is about, but I am still amazed at the numbers of people and the places they live who have stopped and glanced for a moment at this blog. I started it for my family and a few friends whom I thought would enjoy following in my new life. It was going to be easier for me to post pictures and write about where I am or what I am doing, than it would be writing and sending separate emails with appropriate pics. Unfortunately, at the beginning, my family did not understand what it was nor could they find it, so for the first 2 months or so, no one looked at it. When I arrived in Bermuda, I think, I explained how to get here and how to view it, and then, after my family sent the address around to some friends, it seemed to build a following, and grow from there, although I have no idea how many folks check in regularly. Still, the numbers amaze me. I am just a plain and ordinary person, who perhaps just now, is living an extraordinary life. But I am not a gifted writer. I don't take good pictures. And, as I wrote the other day, I am even becoming a bit jaded at the beauty that surrounds me, and need reminding every now and then because I begin to take it for granted. Flag Counter is a free counter, for any one interested. You just cut and paste the HTML into your edit HTML, or something like that. Had ya fooled for a minute that I actually knew what I was talking about! Ha!

I am growing hairs in my nose and ears now. The ones in my nose, which have always been growing there, are now longer, and often grey. And the ones on my ears are just growing and long. They all tickle. When I try to pull out one in my nose, it looks like I am digging for gold.

FaceBook - Still not sure I like it. I have certainly enjoyed meeting up with old friends there - people who I have met in this new life as well as some from years ago, as well as keeping up with family. One thing I don't like is seeing things referenced that I don't want to see. For instance: Cousin Cletus has a friend who "Likes Rush Limbaugh", and if I don't like RL, which is not true, btw, but like my cousin, then why do I have to read that Cletus likes what his friend likes? Does that make sense? There are people there whom I consider friends, or at least, friendly. But what does politics have to do about being friends? Or does it? I have read some things there that truly make me feel sorry for some of these ignorant, hating people.

Having a cold in Paradise is the same as a cold in Pittsburgh. It stinks!

When people cannot make a good argument to defend their opinion, they resort to name calling. Isn't that what we did when we were kids?

Latin Americans seem to have a different idea or attitude towards a person's "space". Twice now, I have had other guests here at the resort barge in front of me while waiting for my turn in line at the restaurant. The other night, it happened twice within seconds - someone stepping in front of me, plate stretched out and eyes glued to the food, almost touching me to get there first,. The first time I noticed it, there was a large group from Costa Rica here. As a group, they are not appreciated by the locals - considered arrogant, argumentative, rude, cheap, and complainers. Many members of that group barged into line, stepped in front of me, and acted as if the food was the last they would see for days.

The United State Marine Corps gave my dad an incredible memorial funeral service at Arlington National Cemetery. All the formal trappings that Dad earned with his service were given, with incredible solemnity, dignity, and reverence. It was not until after the service that I realized that, unlike the service at church several months earlier, this one was not for the benefit of his widow, nor his 2 sons, family and friends. The USMC performed this service for their fallen brother. We were only privileged witnesses. I think they would have performed the same ceremony with the same dignity and solemnity, even if there had been no civilians there to see it.

Foster and Honus

Before my brain deteriorates any further, and I forget or confuse more details, I would like to write a few stories from my father, G. Foster Doak, as well as those told in my family's traditions.

Dad was born in Carnegie, Pa and raised at 321 Knox Avenue. The house is still there and I asked him several times late in his life if he desired to go down to walk through the house one last time. He declined. Fronted with the traditional sitting porch, with canvas awning, as I recall, it is a modest, 2 story dark red brick home on a small lot with room enough on one side for a walkway. I remember Grandma's davenport, or glider very well, as well as the cinderblock garage in the rear, which you drove into from the alley that runs between Knox Avenue and the next street over. Mrs. Struzka, of Struzka Hardware loaned Grandad the money to build the house and records show it went on the tax rolls around 1910. Dad was born in 1922, so I am not sure if 1910 is accurate. Dad was old enough to remember helping Grandad form and pour the front steps and walkway which must have happened many years after they moved in, and Dad said that Grandad (Edward Dewey Doak) had intended the curly cues on the sides of the steps to resemble the tail of the treble clef in music, for in Grandma's life, music played a large role and she saw that Dad and Aunt Helen had music training. She was a locally famous soprano soloist, chosen to sing at weddings and funerals, and served as music director and soloist in their church - The First Methodist Church of Carnegie, which Dad discovered years later after marrying Mom, that HER family had helped found.

My maternal grandad, Joseph Hodgson Cole, my Pop-Pop, was born and raised in Carnegie as well. His family had farmlands that were developed into a housing tract and are now part of Rosslyn Heights - Sarah and Jane Streets in Rosslyn Heights were named for my family. The family homestead still stands on the hill on Carothers Avenue. Is the first house on the right up on the hill after you cross over Chartiers Creek from Carnegie. (we say 'crick' in Pittsburgh!)

After starting married life and raising a family in 2 different homes in Rosslyn Farms - first Edgecliff and then Terrace, I think - they moved into a 3 story house on Beechwood Avenue in Carnegie, after - 1) Pop-Pop lost most of his money in high risk investments in the Great Depression and - 2) I think, during the war, he was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and because of the shakes in his hands, had to quit his dentistry offices, reversing their fortunes even further. He bought the Beechwood Ave. home from his uncle who had built it. (That home was destroyed by a fire in February, 1965, I think.) Pop-Pop would have been about 20 years younger than Honus Wagner, but I am sure, Carnegie being a small town, that Wagner would have known Joe Cole and watched him grow up, as well as playing baseball with the young men of the community. From Dad's house, Beechwood Avenue is just down Washington Avenue a few blocks and up Christie St. It is the street where Carnegie Free Library sits, and just down the street a block or so from Memaw and Pop Pop's new home, Honus Wagner lived.

Honus Wagner holds two major places in history - He is considered the greatest short stop in baseball history by many. And, his baseball card is the world's most valuable card - last selling for $2.8 million. He also was one of the first 5 inductee's into the Baseball Hall of Fame. But being a 'Carnegie Boy' and it being a time before multi-million dollar contracts, he was a common sight walking from the bus stop to his home at night, or perhaps, from bar to bar and then home, making the long climb up Beechwood or Library Avenues, to the ridgeline, with Washington Avenue and Main Street down on either side. He retired from baseball playing around 1917, and then worked as a batting coach for the Pirates into the '40s. He also started a small chain of sporting goods stores, which bears his name in Pittsburgh today.

My cousin Sam told me his touch with Honus. (Forgive me Sam, if I get some of the details wrong, but here is how I remember your telling it.) At some point after the war, Uncle Sam and Aunt Sue were living in the 2nd and 3rd floor apartment above Memaw and Pop-Pop Cole's home on Beechwood. Pop-Pop walked down the street to Honus Wagner's one day, and asked him to sign a ball for his grandson. I guess it had an honored place in their household for many years, until Aunt Sue grabbed it up one day to play catch in the street with cousin Earl, scuffing the signature right off the ball. So, Sam has a ball that USED TO have Honus Wagner's signature.

My dad was quite a baseball pitcher in high school. Mom had more than a few articles in her scrapbook, cut out of the Signal-Item, with headlines about Dad, as well as her brother, Uncle Sam, who was their slugger at the time. "Cole-Doak bring another win for Carnegie" - That sort of thing. Dad even pitched a no-hitter or two.

(Another aside - Mom spent many years in and out of body casts due to surgeries to fight an infection in her spine. Dad must have fallen in love with her back then, in high school, and walked several miles every day after school to see her when she was bed ridden. Early in this love affair, there was a big dance coming up and Mom was fitted in a body cast or back brace and talked just before she died at how they had to fit her dress so that it hid the cast. She kept the invitation to that dance all of her life. After a ball practice one afternoon - could have been football where Dad was team manager, or baseball, a fellow player - Chris Keisling, I think, asked Dad who he was taking. He replied, "Annah Cole." and Keisling smart mouthed back something to the effect, perhaps cleaned up a bit by Mom in the telling, "How can you neck a girl wearing a board?" Well, Dad took a quick swing and knocked him on his butt. Then, Uncle Sam, a teammate and her brother, picked him up from the floor, dusted him off, and knocked him BACK on his butt. Keisling complained to the coach, who, after hearing what had been said, told him he deserved it. Man, were those good times or not! Imagine that today?)

So it is natural to imagine that one evening, when hanging out in front of the drug store on Main Street with his buddies, Dad was approached by Honus Wagner, after stepping off the bus. "Are you the boy I have been hearing so much about up at the high school?" Dad replied that he guessed so. "Do you have a set of cleats?" Yes, sir. "Then meet me here Saturday morning with your glove and cleats."

Honus Wagner took Dad out to Forbes Field that Saturday morning - probably about 1939 or 40, and Dad had an opportunity to pitch batting practice to the Pittsburgh Pirates. He said it didn't go well. He watched his pitches knocked over his head repeatedly. He told me that he was just too small in stature to compete at that level. Dad was probably 5'8" or 5'9".

But the better story is one that preceeds Dad's tryout for the Pirates by a few years. Grandma Doak, Bessie Foster, daughter of former Carnegie Police Chief, George Foster, had several brothers, and my impression from Dad is that they were either a bit lame brained or lazy or both. It seems that one of Grandma's brothers drove a delivery truck for Horne's or Gimbel's back then. It was a time when women could take a streetcar into Pittsburgh and shop, and for a few cents more, could have their packages delivered to their homes a few days later, so they didn't have to carry them home on the streetcar. So one of Grandma's brothers was a delivery man. This uncle would stop at Knox Avenue and pick up my dad,who was a young boy then, and take him out on his route, 'letting' my dad run the packages up to the front door, ring the bell, and make the delivery.

One afternoon, perhaps in summer or right after school, this uncle honked to pick up Dad, who had just made a jelly sandwich. He tore out the front door, sandwich in hand, to ride the delivery truck. The first delivery must have been right down Washington Ave, up Christie Street to Honus's Wagner's house on Beechwood because Dad hopped off the truck with package in one hand and uneaten sandwich in the other, and paused before climbing the front porch steps to set the sandwich down. He rang the bell, made the delivery, and ran back to the truck for the next delivery.

Apparently, the next day, Honus Wagner was seen limping around Carnegie a bit, and when asked why, he replied,"Some kid left a jelly sandwich on the front steps and I slipped on it coming down, and fell on my tail."

(Next episode - Aunt Helen's tale of Dad and FDR)

Nothing like living next to an airport

Every now and then, when the wind is right, an enterprising pilot comes over to my side of the island to take off, with a load of tourists aboard. He gives rides - tours of the island and the like and I hear that it is fairly expensive. There was a similar, but smaller plane doing the same on Key Biscayne when I was there, and I regret not stopping in one day to take a ride, as I think I could have talked the guy into at least letting me take it off, or even perhaps, landing, since he advertised his business as 'giving lessons' as well as tours.

Anyway, this is the first time that I have had the camera near when he took off, and I have never heard him coming in to land, so probably will not get that video.

Anyway - another look at my life on Roatan.

What's that blocking my view?

Well, first of all, I snapped this picture this morning. That little dark smudge underneath the boat is a small baracuda who has been living there since I arrived here. I would swear that I have seen him grow a couple inches in this time. Hope he finds a new home when he gets big enough to take a bite from me! Now, to my story.

It rained for quite a few days here, everyday. Several long and hard showers. The dink would fill half way with water, making sun tea,from the leaves that blow into it. The water I would pump out was always tea colored. I am not used to being tied up with trees so near, almost overhanging the boat. The brown leaves clog the scuppers on the toe rail and accumulate in little pockets all over the deck and cockpit. When I took these pictures, it looked more like coffee than tea. Guess it is time to pump out the dink!Now that I think about it, some of the branches DO touch the starboard stays - something that worried me when I was told the monkeys come over here sometime. That would be a disaster for me - to be boarded by the white faced monkeys, who will pick up anything and put it into their mouths, and knock over the chairs in the outside dining room regularly, while playing. But so far, they have avoided me. I have heard now that up on the hill, in the center of this 21 acre island, there is a large boa constrictor, who took a fawn several weeks ago - perhaps the one that posed for me with no fear in a previous post here, and easily could take a small dog or cat. Now, when I walk back to AF from the other dock at night, I worry that I might step on him or her, and get a nice bite for my troubles. (They should never have told me!) On that subject, I also learned a few weeks ago that there are crocodiles living here, but in the marshy areas inland. But is something new to worry about, when swimming. (I remember, just after buying AF, while tied up at the marina of my broker's at Salt Creek in St. Petersburg, that it was considered unadvisable to swim to clean your bottom, so far up this creek, as the alligators always came down in the rainy season, as the water was not too salty for them. But that is another story.)
So the daily rains got me down a bit - grey days in Paradise. Bored, if you can believe that, so I read, and was going through books left and right. Staying close to AF because the hatches were open, letting some breeze pass through, but having to stay attentive to close them up at the next downpour. I have bought a window air conditioner, to be installed somewhere, sometime. Jerry, the dockmaster here just installed one in a makeshift hatch board, and the other way is to take off a deck hatch and install the AC unit up on deck, blowing down through a plywood hole with a rain cover. (I cannot believe that I left behind 4 window units in Pittsburgh, never thinking that I might haave need for one a year later on the boat, since I have 2 marine AC units- heat pumps in fact.) But the current here at this dock is so bad, I don't think it would be able to start the compressor, or the varying voltage would cause an early death to the motor.

And the wait for this new throttle cable is driving me nuts now. They have supposedly made 2 or 3, but incorrectly, as well as trying to sell me one 'off the shelf' that wasn't even close to what mine looked like. And, of course, they 'repaired' my old one, cutting 3 cm from the inside, but not the outer tubing, making it almost worthless, without a bit of jury rigging. (I just learned something a few days ago: The phase 'jury rig' is a nautical term, which first showed up in print in the early 1600's. It applied to a repair to a mast or spar. Through common usage, it has evolved to jerry rigged or other adaptations.)
Sorry for wandering off topic so much. So back to my original line of thought. I must concede that my attitude was slipping. But, today, after doing a couple small chores, and reading a lot, I walked over to the resort beach for a 2nd time for an afternoon swim in the calm waters of the resort's bay, between the beach and reef. Yesterday, I swam for about an hour, or at least was in water over my head for about an hour, swimming perhaps 200 or 300 yards - crawl, breast stroke, back stroke, floating, and just enjoying the much needed exercise and stretching. So, I returned for a 2nd time.

Afterwards, I returned to the beach, and took a lounge chair, and a cold beer and was sitting and watching nothing. It suddenly dawned on me what beauty surrounded me. It first occured to me because the view of the horizon was blocked by a palm frond hanging down, waving in the wind.

Looking up, I saw that I was under a canopy of palm trees. Bam! It finally got through this thick skull of mine - Look at how beautiful this place is! I am in Paradise. Living my dream. Wake up! I guess I have been inured to the beauty surrounding me - this exotic place by just seeing it everyday - taking it for granted. What a nut!

Life is good.

Rats!

Before I left St Martin, I went to the island equivalent of Sam's Club - I say that tongue in cheek - is NOT at all so nice, and bought 'stuff'. One purchase was a case of cocktail nuts, in the little cans and plastic tops. (Smart shopper that I am, I didn't read the label well enough, and the first time I opened one, discovered I had bought UN-salted nuts. Why they even make them is almost beyond my thinking, as when I want to enjoy nuts, it is because I have a drink in my hand, and naturally, I also want some SALT to go with it, and heck, if you want plain nuts, they sell BAGS of them for cooking.) Regardless, there is a point in the telling of this trivia.

Several weeks ago, I left an opened can in the cockpit, and the next morning found that something had chewed through the plastic lid, a little sliver of blue plastic at a time, so there were dozens of half moon shaped pieces sitting around. Also, a feather. So, I presume, some clever bird had done it. A bird with a parrot-like bill might have made those half moon shapes. It happened during the 2nd night that I slept in the salon and not on deck. (I gave up sleeping up there as the mosquitos were having a feast every night, regardless of how much Off! I sprayed on me.) Made sense to me. No sleeping human, so sneak aboard and "Let's Party!"


Friends looked at it and said plainly - unequivocably - a rat. Is not an unusual thing on a boat tied to a dock. So are mice, cockroaches, ants, and gekkos. Gekkos are good as they eat the ants and other insects. I recently read of a couple who asked a local to capture a couple gekkos to put onto the boat, as natural insecticides. I had heard that rat traps (trappas de rhatas or something like that in Espanol) were a bit hard to find here, so I started to shop for one when out on other errands, and found it after about 8 or 10 stores - 76 Limperas - about $3.25. I also moved the can onto the dock, and each day, moved it further away from AF, hoping to lead the munching el rhatas away from AF. Finally some critter took the whole can away. A few weeks later, I found it out on the lawn between the resort and the dock, and put it in the trash.

So, the other night, I did the same. Opened a can, and, after adding some seasoning salt and shaking, munched a couple handfuls while sipping a vodka tonic, before dinner. Nice Planter's Mixed Nuts (less than 50% peanuts) with added salt. The next morning, I had the same result as the previous time, only this time, there were several rat turds scattered around the sole (floor) of the cockpit.

So now, war. And I am angry that presumably, this guy has been coming on the boat every night since, looking for another hand out, but grateful that he hasn't come into the boat yet, or at least I THINK he has not come into the boat yet.

I set the trap with peanut butter and a big pecan right in the center of it, and left the can as well. Back home in Pittsburgh, I used a wireless, infrared motion detector, so that when someone passed by, coming into the driveway or up the walk, it would sound a loud Ding Dong down in my room in the basement, which I had tried to insulate as to be mostly soundproof, since I slept during the day. Also, since I was responsible for Mom, I wanted to have a feel for who was coming and going, hence the alarm. I brought it with me on AF, just in case I felt a need to detect motion, say on the deck at night, or near the dink anytime. After the trap was set, I put new batteries in the detector and placed it on the sole of the cockpit, pointing at the trap.

4am - DING DONG! Scared me to death......(I since have moved the alarm half of the system to a place under a pillow to mute the loud noise) but good notice that something was moving about in the cockpit, and perhaps something was about to happen. I have a screen that slides into place instead of the split doors that open the companionway, and in the dark, I stand up and walk that way, slowly to see what was visiting me. Peering through the screen, I saw it. and it proved to be the rat, grey, about 4 or 5 inches long, running like lightning, down into the cockpit, sniffing around (ding dong!) and tearing off again, climbing or jumping out of the cockpit so fast, and once I even saw its profile in the back light, running across the whole length of the helm's cushion like a flash. Finally, he came down and he climbed up onto the can, and started gnawing away at the plastic lid some more (ding dong!) but being scared to hang around too long. The trap was an inch from the can! But, something always scared him off. He finally retrieved a nut from the can - I think he likes the pecans, and disappeared. The next time, he stole the pecan off its peanut butter bed, and disappeared for the night, without setting off the trap. Damned rust! So, I tied an almond to the trap. Next day, almond gone; trap not sprung. Damned Rust! Today, I filed the 'trigger' down a bit - kinda like an island gunsmith - getting it down to have a hair trigger response. And then I tied another almond to the trap, only this time doing a much better job, but leaving the almond with a bit of slack. That night - Ding dong! - he must have pulled on the almond, and when it snapped back, his head was out of the way of the trap and he escaped. I saw him fly up the binnacle, by the throttle lever, and disappear.

So have tightened the nut to the trap, and I wait.

Where did the feather come from in the beginning? Don't know, unless I have had other visitors after the can was opened.

I am just glad that the monkeys haven't made it this far over, or I would have real troubles. They tear up everything, and steal colorful and shiny bits. I would be destroyed!

And guess what? Ding Dong! Gotta go.....More later.......

Roatan Pictures

On several rides away from the resort, I have snapped some pictures out of the taxi windows. Thought I would share with you some, to give you some idea of what life looks like here. I think this house is cute - probably owned by an expat - and have been told it would cost about $250,000. Not cheap, in my opinion, and in fact, I have heard of no real bargains here.

Edgar, the taxi driver who invited me home for dinner with his family, lives up this hill, in a community call La Forte. It was taken by force, by mainland Hondurans, who came to the island after it was turned over to Honduras. Just a few years ago, there were nightly gun battles here - sorta like Washington or Baltimore, I think - but the police clamped down hard, and in several trips through the area, I have seen a constant police presence here, now.

Up on that hill, somewhere, is the back of Edgar's home.

This is an Office Park.

This mansion is owned by the man who was mayor here. Not sure what town he was mayor of, nor am I sure when he was mayor, but each taxi driver has identified the house as being the former mayor's.

One of the two cruise line docks here.

This is the control tower for the airport, which is across the road, and almost at sea level. Since this hill is blocking the view for the tower controllers, they built the tower on top of it. Continental Airlines serves the island from Houston, TX, as well, of course of regional Latin American airlines.

The road up to the tower is almost one lane only.

But the view is worth the climb.

I think this is the 2nd cruise line facility.

The airport runway from the hilltop.

Downtown Coxen Hole.

At lunch, these 2 Digicel Girls were flirting openly with me - the 'rich Gringo'. 18 and 21 years old! Good for the ego! (Do you really think they found me attractive - a 57 yo fat American?)

These children gathered for several pictures, and eagerly wanted to see them on the little display screen on the camera. They hang out at Perla's store each day, perhaps after school, but not all kids even go to school, so I don't know.

A group of 3 children were moving these cows one day to a different pasture, I guess.