But not today. We swam back to the rocks at the base of the Pink House and tried to climb out with our flippers on. We had left our aqua shoes on the shore, and the coral was razor sharp, so the only choice was to walk over the rocks backward wearing the big, clumsy swim fins. Kathy did okay at this, but I'm not so graceful. After snorkeling for a couple hours, it's really difficult to stand again without swaying with the waves. Anyway, I fell several times and ended up bleeding like a stuck pig by the time we made it back up the steep trail to the house.

We broke for lunch and had tuna salad sandwiches, which were easier to hunt and prepare than Conch. Of course, lunch led to nappies, which led to Cuba Libres, which led to Jim, the great white (very white) hunter wanting to go foraging for food again. Late in the afternoon, we walked down a little trail through the cactus to a stand of palm trees on the beach. After combing the beach for a while, we both commenced to chunk old dried coconuts up into the palms trying to catch dinner. After a long, unsuccessful hunt, I finally managed to dislodge a ripe coconut and we paraded back up to the Pink House, triumphant foragers, holding the slain coconut high over our heads.

Cleaning and preparing the prey was still rather difficult, however. It took a dull machete, a too small tenderizing mallet (which I broke), a big rock, two knives, and a metal skewer before we got at the sweet white coconut meat. We marinated some shrimp in the coconut water and some rum then coated them in a batter made with flour, salt, pepper, coconut milk, and grated coconut. Kathy made delicious rum smoothies with Papaya juice and blended coconut, and we feasted on coconut shrimp and fritters.

Not a bad day's foraging, but it's not exactly lobster. Yet.