We boarded an outboard
motor skiff with captain, guide, and a motley
assortment
of tourists
from Canada who were staying at a resort several
miles north of Placencia.
It entailed a lot of driving but they were a
petroleum family--husband a pipeline foreman,
350-pound son* a stock car racing
hobbyist, and mom whooping and hollering when
she
spied in passing a green and yellow tractor on a
tiny resort island: "Whoo-oo! John Deere!
Gotta love that!" She seemed happiest when the
175hp engine was screaming full throttle
and leaned in close to savor the vapors when the
captain switched gascans with a siphon
and toxic fumes permeated the air. We snorkeled
around a
tiny desert island right out of
a
New Yorker cartoon and then went further
out to where commercial
fisherman often gut
their catch. The captain revved the motor
repeatedly then tossed conch shells stuffed
with shrimp into the water. Three large sea
turtles and a number of rays and barracuda
answered the call of the dinner bell engine.
It's amazing to swim within touching
distance
of these majestic animals, but I felt like an
idiot having burned so much fuel--by air, land,
and water--for the privilege. The
ocean is dying fast and my lifestyle
contributes to that.
Is it possible to be both critic of and
participant in the system without being a
hypocrite?
*He wasn't actually there but mom proudly
described him right down to exact
weight.
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