Let's write about: going out for a drink.
On the way back from Black River we stopped in at Pelican Bar. What's so interesting about stopping for a drink? When it's at a bar one kilometer offshore:
A local man built it on a sand spit and it's only accessible by boat. So obviously it's a major tourist draw. Here's the view looking back to shore:
It kind of looks like it would blow over at the first sign of wind, but so far it's holding up:
We spotted a dolphin on the way back home, but I didn't get a picture of it. It was very cool though; we must have been only a few feet away from it at one point. I think tomorrow I'll share some Kingston pictures with you, where we visited with my relatives and went for a hike in the Blue Mountains.
They stood huddled together in the cave entrance, safe in the cool shadows as they watched the afternoon sky. Their once fashionable clothes now hung from their limbs like torn rags, their bare feet dirty and blistered. No words were spoken; they did not have the energy to spare for them.
The air rippled where the dark met the light, the heat nearly crying out in frustration at its inability to breach their sanctuary. They pretended not to notice, but they were all aware of it.
After an hour or more had passed, a large black cloud appeared on the horizon. A wave of energy passed through them and they became restless, suddenly finding it difficult to wait a moment longer. But they had no choice, not if they wanted to survive.
At last the cloud moved before the sun, casting its shadow over the land below. They emerged from the cave then, moving as quickly as they could manage. It was time to go out for a drink.