Enjoyed a cold beer with Irma while a peaceful Atlantic lapped against the deserted Batibou shoreline and the late afternoon sun stole away to the west.
Dropped it. No rice in my box, thanks.
I’m walking to the boiling lake on Friday. Maybe I’ll see you on the trail. I’ll be the fella who’s 6-month-old Merrells are already falling apart, dammit.
My shoes made it, just. They’re now falling apart on my porch. It was a nice walk, though rainy on the return journey. Bumped into a few very nice folks on the trail but no parrots or agouti today.