We still haven’t attempted the hike over the hill. We’ve instead taken the easier way. The wall in between the path and the driveway has become the sidewalk in. I don’t know why they still bother to lock the gate. The view is amazing. Between last year’s festival and Irma, there’s nothing left to block it. The buildings still stand although many have lost all or part of their roofs. Facing Anguilla, all the way on the right hand side, someone is squatting. Someone with a key to the gate.
Walking down the familiar path, I now miss the cows that used to roam here. They were reassuring to me in this solitary place. Debris of sand and shell mark how far the waves reached. There is no longer any hint of the festival held back in April. The stage and giant tiki sculpture are gone. Danny’s Beach Bar stands without a roof and the tables need chairs. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t, as of yet, made an effort to return.
As on all the beaches we’ve visited so far, there’s a drop down shelf where layers of sand have washed away. No one has come to tend the palms that survived – and those that didn’t stand helplessly lifeless, like telephone poles. The roots are all exposed, a tangled network that once held the ground in place. Everyone’s favorite icon, the giant sea grape now lays on its side half dead; half growing anew.
Walking down to where the path over the hill opens to the beach is also greatly altered. The lovely canopy from the tree in the middle of the path is toppled. Boulders at the end of the beach have moved, but there are still tide pools to enjoy. Then again, the whole beach is still beautiful and to be enjoyed. An umbrella would be ideal to have. We’ve packed a picnic lunch complete with beer and rosé. Fishermen and the rhinos stop by as they have in the past.
Come on Danny come on back! We are here, you have hungry guests. Make the scene complete!
Even with all the visitors there’s still plenty of privacy to have a Happy Bay ending.