The bright sunshine woke me up early this morning promising another glorious day in paradise, or so I chose to believe. Mervin was coming by to pick us up so go into town to get our food supplies. A light quick rain soon followed. Rain MUST always be welcome when you are living off the land and need water to drink. We need to now make sure we store the water in the reservoir properly this time.
The mosquitoes were the last straw for Eddie. He is not happy living here. I came to the conclusion today that to avoid disappointment, I need to not hold too tightly onto plans. Promises are a difficult thing to keep and my disillusionment in promises reached epic proportions today. Eddie’s desire to move has been growing. He would rather live at Brewer’s Bay, the campsite that we started out living in. He doesn’t want to rough it anymore.
After a painful boat trip to Brewer’s Bay, the owner of the campsite, Styles, greeted us. He informed us that where we were living, Rogue’s Bay was illegal and not only did he know about our residence there, but so did fishermen. He added that before we got any deeper and were deported by the tourist bureau, we should get a place to camp with him. It seemed like a sales pitch to me, but Eddie was taking it as ‘friendly advice’. My reaction was to head back to our bay and stop talking to him. He knows too much about us and his motives aren’t friendly. Everyone else told us it was legal because the British Crown believed that no one can “own” the beach. Even Mervin, who works for conservation for Tortola said it was ok. Mervin told us about the bay when we were looking for a destination. I trust Mervin.
Eddie wanted to move and I was beginning to feel that Tortola was the wrong destination for my dream of living like an Indian. I blamed Eddie for bringing me to this island, since I originally had reservations about the surfing here and he had talked me into it. He said the most important thing was we were together, but I wanted my dream. Fiercely. Kim (the girlfriend of Dillinger) was moving and selling her car. Eddie wanted to buy the car and sell our boat and move into Brewer’s Bay. My dream was falling apart before my eyes.
Paul, a man who had been living on the campsite for 2 years, who I had met briefly a few days earlier, came to chat with us as we tried to call the boat shop to inform them the motor wasn’t working properly. When we found out the boat shop was closed for the pending hurricane that was coming down from Texas, Paul invited us to his campsite. I was rattled by all the troubles that were bombarding us. Eddie and I chose to interpret everything the opposite, though I do admit, he was trying to rescue and protect us. We were not getting along. Something ominous did seem to be happening and I didn’t feel like being social.
But arriving at his campsite was what I needed to experience. Paul’s ‘campsite’ was magical. It was unexpected and unlike anything I had ever seen! The long path to his site was lined with conch shells and cultivated shrubbery that looked wild and tropical. He had three tents, one for the master bedroom, one living room and a guest bedroom! Each pathway to each tent had a manicured pathway. The master bedroom had a king size bed with satin sheets. He didn’t actually have a toilet per se, but a bathroom to put our shower to shame. He had an incredible garden in which he grew string beans, tomatoes, spinach, succulents and many exotic flowers that eventually made it into the pathways. It looked like a jungle, but felt like a peaceful zen garden. There was a wicker couch in the living room. The kitchen couldn’t be more deluxe: a dining table with homemade candelabra, a tree that had every imaginable utensil dangling from it and a refrigerator! He had tapped into electricity and had lights, which had lampshades made from gourds/calbasa fruits that were hand painted with hibiscus flowers by his wife. He even had a radio and cable tv! Even though they were modern conveniences, which I have chosen to abandon, what he had created out of normally discarded items was amazing to behold!
Paul is such a crazy dude! He informed me when we first met, that he was a ‘nudist’ too. Did I mention he is about 60 years old? He lived on an island in Clearlake, California for 20 years and had to move to a warm climate for health reasons. He told us that “just because you don’t want to live in what other people call so-called reality, doesn’t mean you have to live without the comforts of life.” These words rang in my ears like a sign of some sort. He also told us that Dillinger was a thief (no surprise) crack addict(big surprise)! Paul said he moved all the way to this island to get away from that same problem of a drug-addict neighbor, only to find it next door again!
It was a treat to visit his campsite and gave me a needed break from my drama and an emotional lift. I said to Eddie that it should be in an issue of “Better Homes and Gardens” and he replied, “Better Campsites and Treehouses”.
We got a ride into town to get our supplies and got into a horrible fight. The worst fight we ever had and I decided our relationship was over! How could this be happening? Tears and pushing, hitting and chasing followed! It seemed something terrible was evoked and we were headed to total separation. It was over the concept of living off the land. We wanted different experiences and neither of us wanted to budge or compromise. I also think we adore each other and don’t want to have opposing desires. How tragic!
We hitched a ride back to Brewer’s Bay. (did I ever tell you this was a dirt road?) and we shoved close together by the jostling of the steep and narrow hills on the only road to this side of the island. When we returned, Eddie and I began tot madly kiss each other as it evolved into passionately aggressive sex. Post-coital, we began to talk about our near future. I wanted to return to Rogue’s Bay and he wanted to stay at Brewers. It was a gigantic dilemma and at our climax, the hurricane hit. The rain was unlike anything I had ever seen! I cried in the rain, while Eddie found shelter in a tent.
I felt so lost, not knowing whose voice to trust. I wanted to live off the land. I believe no one can own the land, it being Mother Earth and she is a living entity. If it was illegal to live in Rogue’s Bay, then was willing to practice the Thoreau’s philosophy of Civil Disobedience and accept the consequences? Was willing to make a political point? Should I live out this journey alone? The journey of completely abandoning society and all that I believe hurts the earth? This is the single most difficult moral predicament I have ever faced. I cried and begged for Heaven’s mercy. Eddie came out of the tent to bring me in with him. We made the most tender love all afternoon. At this crazy moment, we decided to get married! The rain kept us in the tent and we cuddled close. It was extremely romantic and I decided tonight to give my exhausted heart and soul a rest before I decided which direction I would follow. Or should I say, lead?
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