The wind is in my hair as we drive toward the sleepy village of Grand Case. The French radio station plays American pop music in the background. After passing the airport, the road seems to narrow before ending in a T. Straight ahead, a dirt driveway between buildings offers us a first glimpse of the bay. There are still too many houses and buildings in disrepair since hurricane Irma over five years ago. The afternoon sun warms the skeletal remains of roofless structures.

We can’t wait to park the car and start walking the blocked off Boulevard. To our right the shaded restaurants, shops, and apartments hide views of the water. Many boats and catamarans are anchored there. Once we reach the bridge we are greeted with a large enough opening to see them. Off to the right, Creole Rock marks the northern border of the bay. Anguilla stretches along the horizon, dotted with white houses. The gentle rise and fall of the mostly flat island complements St. Martin’s mountains. The left end of the bay has a pronounced rock outcropping commonly referred to as “Penis Point”. The sun is setting to the right of it, sinking into the water this time of year. It is March, the halfway mark of sunsets. These views are best accessed at the waterfront bars, restaurants, and the slowly collapsing pier. Unfortunately this year the beach was almost non-existent, crashing against foundations in some places. Yet the sun’s golden casting calls to be observed and appreciated. All the imperfections are now beautified in gilded tones.

Another Tuesday preparing for what began as Harmony Night—is now called Mardi de Grand Case. There’s a festive vibe in the air as many vendors set up their wares in stalls along the Boulevard. Shops, too, arrange inviting displays near their entrances. Young and old, local and tourists fill the street. Friends bump into one another and exchange pleasantries. It’s fun to peruse the different crafters. There’s jewelry, clothing, accessories beside street foods and cottage businesses with all kinds of edible treats. MaDouDou and SXM’s own craft beers are a available with the emergence of healthy juices, homemade ice-cream and pop-up Lolos. There’s live music, DJs and bands depending on the week. If you’re in luck, local specialties like spice rubs, sauces, and the seasonal sorrel juice can be had. The list has grown since those early days and some vendors only come for part of the time. Open air markets are always a fun adventure. Even the kids enjoy fishing for plastic floating duckies!

The sun bathes the tops of the buildings, especially on the interior side, before finally yielding to the night. The pier is crowded as people photograph their loved ones and hope for that amazing sunset shot. Lolos call out to passers-by with their delicious Creole cuisine that includes grilled lobster. Slowly, the lights come up as more people come out for dinner. Anticipation builds as the time gets closer to the evenings highlight — the parade. Each week a drum corps group backs up girls in feathery carnival costumes. Each week featuring different colors. There may also be stilted entertainers and lighted hula hoop dancers. They dance down the street and often visit restaurants along the route. Security guards escort the parade to keep the sometimes not so polite throng from blocking their passage. The girls oblige the many cameras and phones with beautiful smiles and gracious posing. The positive mood lingers into the night—as the parade winds down parents gather their children and head home, while restaurants and bars bustle with customers.

The morning reveals the almost desolate Boulevard as the sun begins its path on the opposite side. Cars speed by barely avoiding the few walkers. The early light gives warm kisses as the sun rises in the sky. The stillness, though, is in sharp contrast to the previous evening’s party. For now, Grand Case has returned to being the sleepy little fishing village. In the background the waves can be heard rolling in. It is hard not to be touched by its charm, beauty, and people. It is the people who live there, after all, that make it even more special.

Bill was about to pop the cork while the Rhino tour this afternoon had nothing to celebrate. The usual round-up when they all tie together to go swim/snorkel was interrupted — when the guide’s anchor came loose. The entire group was carried by the strong winds diagonally across the bay to the shore.

The guides worked quickly to untether each of the rhinos. Once free, they started up their motors and made their way out into the bay. A handful were not so lucky. Their propellers got stuck in the sand. The guide was able to lift a few of them up and push the crafts away from shore. He then put the motor back in the water, started it and rushed to free the next one. By now, he is soaked after half swimming and wading in the surf. The two remaining beached tourists had to dismount in order the get their rhino propellers in stuck. The four affected passengers stood on the beach while the guides regrouped — literally.

They re-anchored and re-tethered before handing out snorkeling equipment for those who wanted it. The four, still standing on the beach, waited. Two empty rhinos were tethered with the others. Some of the group opted for a swim while a few snorkeled. Some even swam to shore.

What would the beached tourists do?

Everyone has been called to swim back to the tethered tour. Two very reluctant women have run out of options. The beach is clear, the complaining loud. Hand me the popcorn, I mean champagne! The tour guide just pulled the complainer up out of the water and onto her rhino. We are only buoyant while in the water. That guide deserves a drink for the day he has had. We resisted the urge to applaud.

These tours are warned that Happy Bay draws a clothing optional crowd. Participants were hoping for a show, but it turns out they became the entertainment.

P.S. I wonder how the complainer handled her inconvenience once back on dry land.

The ocean was strangely calm that evening. A glorious sunset accentuated the anticipation of going to Pinel island at this unusual time. Yoga under the moon. What would that be like?

Class set up on the beach at the point. We were surrounded by water on two sides. The view of Cul de Sac and Orient changed slowly into night attire with each new light. Their reflection shimmered on the water as the stars above slowly revealed themselves. The moon’s glow announced her own eminent arrival as she rose behind the island’s palms. Making a grand entrance, she shone brightly with cool light. It was so strong, casting shadows as she climbed higher and higher into the night sky. The stars would not compete to be seen in the wake of her brilliance. The sky itself laid a blue velvet carpet for her, yielding and paling in submission. This was her night to shine.

Class seemed to go on in the background. I was in the moment, as time moved in slow motion — yet raced forward. We were but for a moment on Pinel basking in the moon’s magical light.

The water timidly lapped the shore in obedience to the moon’s aggrandized state. Off in the distance a single bird cawed in mournful complaint. We were alone together as the universe collided with here and now. I took a deep breath in agreement with its confines. Yet life and energy, the infinite and finite — were all one. Holding on and letting go were the same, a short experience tucked away in a fading memory.

Perhaps the moon cycles through to constantly remind our forgetfulness. She looks down as if to tell us what we are and the vast opportunities to change.

Life, too, waxes and wanes but its fullness is unmatched. There is space in time to shine, breathe and be brilliant.

The chill of the night washed over me as our session finished. Quietly our boat arrived without lights and barely any sound. We glided across the still bay as we headed back into the night.

On the dock, I paused. I took in the scene and thanked the moon for her light and energy. Just then a gentle cool breeze kissed me goodnight.