I had my rental scooter for 24hrs, which meant that I had to turn it in by 1pm today. I was also required to refuel it before turning it in, or face a $10 fee. Since there was only one gas station that I knew of anywhere on the entire island of Vieques, I decided to go do that after I finished my lunch (which was around noon). Unfortunately I couldn't quite seem to find that damn gas station again (I remembered glimpsing it out the window of the públicos while whipping down through the hills from Isabel Segunda to Esperanza), so I ended up whizzing around wasting a lot of time (but seeing a lot of new areas in the central hills), before giving up and just paying the $10.
This scene (above) caused me to stop for a photo because it looked like some of the naval base buildings I saw back near the ferry dock in Ceiba. They appeared open and abandoned, but immediately outside of the frame is somebody's house and a little chihuahua or something that immediately bolted out of the yard at me both times I passed by.
FWIW chihuahuas can do 30mph. I am not shitting you. There was a cool little chapel on the crest of this hill across the street from the house, but the chihuahua dissuaded me from stopping there to take a pic. I don't know how this dog stays alive when it bolts into the road to chase after every vehicle that passes by. This next photo was from a much safer hill, looking down on the "suburbs" of Isabel Segunda...if you look close you can see a few abandoned cars in the overgrowth on the side of the road. I didn't even know they were there until after I rode by:
After turning in my set of wheels, I decided to finish out my time in Esperanza by relaxing on the beach. Which in my language means sitting for a few minutes then getting up to walk more, but without having to have a huge backpack weighing me down.
So I hiked to Sun Bay again, the one I checked out last night while on my way to Mosquito Bay when it was overcast. Today it was much prettier. And as an added bonus the sun wasn't trying to murder me quite as badly at the moment.
These landforms are not technically islands, but they are called "cayos," which I believe is the Spanish word for an island that is still barely connected to the mainland by a narrow spit. There are actually two of these at Esperanza.
It wasn't long before I decided I was going to hike over there. And then, maybe around it too.
This particular one was called Cayo de Tierra.
Somebody's little grass-thatched gazebo was still clinging on to life:
Looking back at land:
The ground that this cayo was made up of was entirely bits of broken and weathered coral, and seashells:
All of these "rocks" were actually old dead coral:
Looking back on Sun Bay:
One thing that I guess is worth going on a tangent for a minute is that there definitely seemed to be a weird Michigan connection to Vieques on my trip...at least two or three of the several other people staying at my hostel (who I did not actually associate with, but whose conversations I could not help overhearing) were from Michigan, and I have to admit that I was very surprised to look in the beer cooler at the local cantina one night to see Bell's Two-Hearted Ale in amongst the usual Dos Equis, Modelo, Medalla and Corona. I mean, really? They had just started posting billboards in Detroit when I left, declaring that they were now "America's #1 Beer," which was surprising enough to me. And then later, on my ferry trip back to the Puerto Rican mainland I saw another couple, one of whom was wearing a Detroit News shirt. I never even knew such a shirt existed; perhaps they were an employee?
Furthermore, it would seem that the official vehicle of Vieques (and of Puerto Rico) was the mid-1990s Mazda B-Series pickup...which is what my old black Michigan-made "Rusty Camel" was! I mean these things were evvvverywhere. Ford Rangers were also extremely prevalent, but I have never seen such a concentration of one type of vehicle anywhere like I did here—and the Mazda B-Series is not even a common truck anywhere else! I guess there was some sort of importation deal back in the Clinton years where Ford-Mazda decided they were just going to flood Puerto Rico with these things. It was a good move, because these trucks are fucking bullet-proof, and the islanders clearly already know all about it. In places like this reliability is crucial since there are no dealers or junkyards to get spare parts or new cars, so people keep their vehicles running as long as they can. Some of them were in beautiful condition, and others looked like they had made it through World War IV, like mine.
Getting closer to the big rocks:
Looking up, I now saw that some of the sedimentary strata of the rocky cliffs looked to be made of something porous like old coral as well:
I made my way out to the point where from the beach earlier I saw large waves breaking against the huge splintered rocks:
For scale, this overhanging rock was almost as big as a house:
I climbed up on top of this big one to sit for awhile:
Looking back where I came from:
Looking south, out to sea:
It was out across the bay on this opposite arm of land that the abandoned lighthouse from yesterday was located...
I couldn't quite catch a glimpse of the tower, though.
After a long while I slowly made my way back. I noticed that there was a small placid lagoon within the cayo, at left:
This doesn't look like the usual pigeons I'm used to seeing around Detroit:
By the time I got back to my hostel it was about dark, which meant it was about bedtime. I showered again and got all ready for another break-of-dawn start to the day tomorrow. My plan was to wake up and catch either a públicos or a taxi and get back to the ferry in Isabel Segunda.
When I woke up, I hiked to a little cement pad next to the ruins at the highway intersection where I had originally entered town, across from where I had bought lunch at the food cart yesterday. I had suspected by the fact that people seemed to stand there a lot that this was a bus stop or something, and the proprietor of the hostel told me that this was in fact correct, that I could catch a taxi there if I stood and waited. Which I had no choice but to do, since there was still no cell signal to be had for calling one.
All hyped up on thick coffee I had bought from some dude on the beach while I walked out of Esperanza for the last time, I sat down on the cement pad and waited. It was Sunday, so there was not much traffic this morning, but I had been assured that this was the thing to do. I sat for an hour. Then another hour. WTF!? Many cars passed, but no taxis or públicos. Finally when one came, I was sweating already from the heat of the sun. I practically leapt onto his hood T.J. Hooker style to make sure he didn't get away.
Once back in Isabel Segunda I checked the ferry schedule and saw that the next one was another cargo ferry, and that it wasn't going to leave for awhile. I could have rushed and jumped on the passenger ferry that was leaving right now, but I decided to spend a little more time in Isabel, and so I could grab a bite to eat.
I mentioned earlier in this saga that there was a restored lighthouse / museum here in the capitol city of Vieques, so I decided to go see that while I was here as well, since it was just a short walk of a few blocks up from the ferry terminal. I was sad to see that Faro Punta Mulas looked closed today, and was totally fenced off, so I shot this obligatory pic through the bars in the gate:
Then it occurred to me that the place looked kind of unkempt for a "restored" lighthouse that was supposed to be in use as a museum, according to the interwebz. The weeds were kind of prevalent, and some horses were roaming about eating the grass and shitting everywhere. Also, the smaller building to the left appeared to have some hurricane damage still...? A roof vent was knocked off-kilter, and the door was hanging ajar...
I continued to walk down the street, and suddenly noticed that the big iron gate had been violently ripped asunder by someone or something, possibly a gang of wild horses, and that a well-worn path led from the hole and straight to the lighthouse. I made a perfunctory look around me on this still-sleepy Sunday morning, hoping that no vigilant housewives or porch-sitting grampas were frowning in this direction, and stepped through the bars with my big backpack narrowly clearing the sides.
Stepping over horseshit as I nonchalantly yet briskly made my way to the light, I peered closely at the house or resort that was adjacent to this property, hoping that there were not guests or proprietors of said guesthouse taking notice of me. No one seemed to be present anywhere in this silent neighborhood. It was eerie. Possibly everyone was in church.
My assumption was that the museum had not yet built up the funds to repair and reopen after the hurricane, even though it seemed to be in pretty good shape. I mean, it's solid stone under that stucco, after all. As you can see, it is exactly the same lighthouse as the ruined one I saw on the south side of the island, but this one isn't totally ravaged.
I expected to circle around it and snap a few pics to impress Navi, then go on about my day.
Then all of a sudden I was inside.
After I had been sitting in front of it for several minutes with my backpack off and letting my back dry out while snapping a few pics of the ocean, I made my way around to the last side of the building and noticed one of the huge shuttered windows to be completely wide open.
Quickly going back to grab my backpack and hop in before I was seen, I was also very cautious that I was not leaping into somebody's squatter colony. After listening several seconds for any signs of life, I began moving about in the small identical square rooms with their 20ft. ceilings.
There were scraps of rubbish here and there, as well as plenty of Medalla cans and Bacardi bottles (Bacardi's distillery and corporate headquarters is in San Juan in case you didn't know), and other signs of the kinds of activities that scenic abandoned buildings are used for.
Shit, had I known this I could have camped right god damn here that first night, instead of walking all over town until the wee hours looking for someplace to sleep!
It looked like the restoration of the lighthouse had never quite been completed as I was led to believe, like it was a work in progress that had been interrupted by a hurricane. Almost every room included a series of jacks that braced the ceiling up, although track lighting was also installed in some rooms like it had already been set up once as a museum or art gallery.
Faro Punta Mulas was built in 1895, automated in 1949, and was restored in 1992 to commemorate the 500th anniversary of Christopher Columbus' first voyage here to America. It was a crucial link in the chain of lights used for navigating the hazardous reefs of the San Juan Passage. As a matter of fact a lot of historic preservation in Puerto Rico seems to have occurred in and leading up to 1992 and the Columbian Quincentennial...sort of like how there was a big history / preservation movement in the rest of the U.S. in 1976.
The barred gate led to the spiral stairs of the tower...
This time I did not go out on the roof, but continued on to the lantern room at the top, which I was unable to do at the ruins of Faro Puerto Ferro.
Neat...
Oh, wait...
Ummm, this lighthouse was still an active aid to navigation?!? I don't remember reading anything like that online...!
Staying low, I shot another quick look over at the guesthouse that had a clear view of my activities to make sure there were no policia lined up at the fence staring in my direction. I had planned on hanging out here for a few, this new development changed my mind.
Holy shit, there's a bran-new LED beacon in here too:
Holding my camera up like a periscope, I shot one more picture before swiftly departing...
CLICK HERE FOR PART 5
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