Ever since Christmas the guys have been tryng to plan a trip over to    the Isle of Tortue to have some sort of guys get away.  The ideal spot for this get away is an extremely gorgeous and untouched beach on the South west tip of the Island.  I mean this beach is gorgeous (at least that’s what I heard); like top five in the Caribbean type of beach, and it’s even nicer since nothing is around it – I mean nothing.

We figured that we go on an adventure over to this beach and laze around, throwing the frisbee, laying out, and doing a little snorkeling at the many nearby coral reefs.  The first time we tried to go was back in February.

The problem was that when we got up in the morning it was raining, and thus not a good day to be out on the open sea, or to lay out in the sun.  All of us guys, though, were determined to make it happen this time, and so we set to get up nice and early on Saturday morning to head over to that legendary pirate island.

Friday was a nice day, but as we were eating dinner on Friday night it started to rain a little bit.  I thought to myself, “Great now we won’t be able to go tomorrow, and I will probably never get over there,” but when I got up in the morning it was pristinely clear.  Even though some of our travelers were late (the single guys of course), we all made it on the boat for our journey over.  Now, I need to say a quick word about the boat.  This was not a regular motor boat like you would see pretty much anywhere in the U.S., this was a small wooden fishing boat that they strapped a 4 horsepower motor to the back of.  Imagine getting on a boat with the disciples in the first century, and then strapping a 4 horsepower motor on the back of it.  That pretty much sums it up I think.  Plus, 4 horsepowers on the open ocean doesn’t go very fast, especially if the ocean is rough.

As we were beginning our skipper was having getting the motor started.  Eventually, though, he got it started and we began our journey.  We got about 500 yards from the beach and the motor stopped – then 500 more – then 500 more – and then stopped for good.  At this point I am thinking that it was a nice attempt, but this tripped is totally doomed.  It wasn’t, though; our skipper opened the back of the engine and sucked out the clog in the hose and off we went.

It took us roughly two hours to travel over to La Tortue.  As we were sailing by the coast I noticed how clean it was in comparison to the mainland of Haiti.  There were also some pretty nice and clean, white and sandy beaches there too.  However, where we were floating I knew would only be a foretaste of what was to come with our ultimate destination.  The problem was, though, that we never actually made it to our final destination.  If I can say one thing about Haiti, and sometimes life in general: things never go as planned, and that is really the only thing that you can plan on.  We had to park our boat, because our skipper was worried about running out of gas on the way back.  After we parked, he told us that we could walk the rest of the way.  And so we walked for about an hour to no avail, and finally decided that it was getting late, and that we had enough hiking.  We went their to laze around on the beach and swim, and we found ourselves doing the opposite.

The people we came across on the island were all very simple, but very sweet.  It was clear that they had probably not seen very many white folks before, but they were all very sweet and interested in what we were doing.  Eventually, we got back into the boat and started our journey home, which would turn out far more daunting than our journey there.

Our boat ride home was characterized by going against the ocean current in a 4 horsepower motor fishing boat, and that’s all really need to explain.  It took us 3 hours and 40 minutes to get home, and we were all sea-worn, sunburnt, and soaking-wet.  I have to say, though, it was quite an adventure and something that I am very glad that I did.  Hopefully next year I will find that elusive beach that so beckons my inmost being to come lay down on its soft sand, and hear the whiz of frisbees flying to and fro, or maybe it’s just a dream.