BAZARUTO

After a Royal layover in JoBurg, watching t.v. barefoot in a hotel bed of live coverage of the confusing phenomenon of the wedding at Westminister Abbey, Krysta and Luke boarded a propeller plane to Vilanculos, Mozambique. Since their landlords are travel agents, they were made privy to a 5 day / 4 night special on the 29th largest island in the world at a rustic lodge.

While coming in for the landing at Vilanculos, the donkeys, thatch roofs and playing children came in view. Muddy pools of water dotted the chaotic web of dirt roads that surely were full of crocodiles. The village sprawl ended suddenly at their first glimpse of the milky blue Indian Ocean.

Getting a Visa was a ten minute process, opposed to the full day potential they had been warned against. The quick turn allowed them to get a seat on the early flight to Bazaruto island. The pilots walked about the airport like it was their frat house. None older than 30, they wore khaki short and pilot shirts picked off the bedroom floor. The co-pilot took a pre-flight nap with his tanned legs hanging out of the cabin doorway in full view of his waiting passengers in the airport. Rudely, the ten passengers awoke him and loaded into the twin prop plane the size of a soccer mom van. It was a bit un-nerving but since the staff was now rested and they were about to get another view of Ocean, they let excitement take over.

ROYALTY

PAINTING

BLUES

The plane did a fly by of the A-frames on the beach where they were staying then dropped down onto a tar and chip runway flanked by dense palms and sand mounds. The frat boys propped the back of the plane up with a steel pole, and directed to their passengers to the transfer service, a John Deere tractor pulling a covered trailer. They churned through the local fishing villages and were greeted with warm smiles from colourfully painted wooden boats. The tractor turned off at a sandy circle where guests were welcomed by staff with leis as a welcome along with a fresh juice drink. Nice.

At the room, they dropped the luggage and abandoned their shoes for the remainder of the trip, walking barefoot to the thatch lounge chairs outside the door on the beach for a couple of ice cold beers and a paperback until sunset. One of the staff discovered them trying to crack a coconut on some rocks, took it from them, and returned it with a straw in its plug. Very nice.

That night they brushed our teeth in the sink. Not nice.

TRANSPORT

RUNWAY

LEI

SUNSET 1

COCONUT

After gaining enough courage to leave the bathroom, they were pulled to the opposite side of the island on the tractor for a morning of listening to waves, napping and sparring with crabs. Luke enjoyed the overcast as Krysta slept. During the nap, a little crab who had a home in the area, would dash out and pinch her on the leg, then escape back to it hole, keeping one alien eye above the plain to plan the next attack. Luke decided to bury the crab and watch it escape from a new holes. On an island in the warm Indian Ocean, the lazy activity filled the entire morning.

Later that evening, before sunset, the two walked a hidden sandy passageway under the dense palms up to the island high point where an old Portuguese lighthouse stood upon a dune. Though gated up with Chinese locks, they found an entrance through a below ground window and explored the ghostly premises that appeared to have housed numerous conquistadors at one point. Over time, the wooden floors and ceilings had either succumbed to the weather or as fuel for the cast iron pot found in the base level. The window frames gave the effect of a living picture with the blues of the Indian and greens of the pine and palm neatly cropped in rectangles by the whitewashed walls.

They watched the sunset on the billowy hill, and later ate what they could at dinner.

BEACH

BEACH ROCKS

BREAK IN

LIVING PAINTING

LIGHTHOUSE

CONQUISTADOR HOME

For Krysta’s birthday, they ventured on a boat over choppy waters to a smaller neighbouring island, known for good snorkelling corrals. The thought of suspended bowels in the weightless floating did not yet appeal to the birthday girl, but Luke had never been and ventured a try. The entire experience was confusing. A young Portuguese couple who seemed to have been having a tiff, suddenly jumped into the water as the boatman, also speaking Portuguese pointed to the water with an anxious look. Luke jumped in and tried to mimic the others, not sure of what to do, shortly calming to enjoy the warm quiet underwater world. Above surface it had started raining and only twenty minutes later, the skipper looked as if he wanted to return. Luke swam up to the anchor line and in pulling himself over the rope, felt his wedding band slip off and fall twenty feet into the white sand below. After ten minutes of anxious dive attempts and the growing discomfort of the boat, he reconciled that it had become the property of a lucky crab that would use it to build an underwater kingdom.

The event did not ruin the birthday, because the birthday girl never knew. They took a nice long walk away from the dramatic group and lounged in the flour sand and warm clear waters. The weather however, almost did ruin the birthday.

The trip over had been a half hour of very choppy waters with white knuckle grips. As they ate lunch, they watched as other small groups on the island were loaded into patched vessels with backfiring junkyard motors and move off into the swells with fear in their eyes. A storm could be seen moving strong against the sky, and once all of the prawns were gone, Krysta, Luke and the Portuguese quickly re-loaded into the boat. The winds carried in by the storm multiplied the swells, creating 10 foot chop, pounding the boat, pushing it upwards, sideways and down at strange angles. Further, the once distant yet visible Bazaruto Island was swallowed by the storm and disappeared. The boat was at the mercy of the compass. Luke thought of the quiet warm world under the waves with a growing crab kingdom and feared the missing ring was a bad omen.

FISHING BOAT

BEACH WALK

FLOUR SAND

Alas, they survived.

The following and final day was beautiful and simple. They filled the hours with cocktails, massages and paperbacks in the sunshine. The evening was passed with a kayak ride in calm water to the far side of the island, to soak legs in warm Indian water, watch the crabs, and revel in the sound of crashing waves.

For the next five days, Luke was strategic with which hand he drank his beers and how he held Krysta’s hand in the turbulence of the return trip. Only once safely off and far from the isolated Mozambique islands of the Indian Ocean, did he muster the courage to explain what happened to the ring. He figured that at least in Windhoek, someone would be able to find his body.

SUNSET 2