During the first few days I had spent my days on the beach experimenting with the best method to avoid sunburn on tender skin. My skin was now golden and sprinkled with ever darkening freckles. Not a sexy look in my mind, but you get what you get when your skin is fair. He was on the beach every morning when I walked. His face was bold; his mouth sensuous. I couldn't see his eyes because of his sunglasses. I wondered in my own curious way if he wore them to hide his true self from those who might look too deep. He was comfortable in his nudity and would sit on his towel reading or just watching the surf. I imagined so many things as he sat remote and silent in the bubble of quiet that surrounded him. There was a storm on the night before everything changed... a big storm. The staff had come to check each room and secure the exterior doors and the patio furniture early in the evening. Their smiling faces and efficient manner did little to assuage my anxiety over the lightning and wind. Thinly sliced, it cured well, and if I wished for salt, I also wished for a kettle. I roasted a few haunches I had kept aside for my nightly repast, so the several weeks sped. I also saw natives, but they were busy with their own pursuits, and left me to my own devices. I tanned the hides as best I could, enough to keep them from stinking when wetted, with the view of making shoes and clothing later, perhaps more water containers if I might.I did see what they were busy with, large fish teemed these waters, so I contrived a twine and nail line myself, rather than the netted poles they seemed to favor, and caught numbers of the weighty red fleshed sea-bounty. I saw that the native camps were drying the splayed open fish in the sun, so I emulated their local wisdom, and added drying fish to my indolent passage. I insured the further neglect of the locals by steering for the opposite bank when I saw an encampment ahead, and they seemed content to avoid me as I did them, as if the river.
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