Grand Turk
Pulled into our first stop this morning. Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos.
Grand Turk (not so grand; 7 miles long and 1 1/4 mile wide) from our balcony. Just behind the buildings is an 8000 foot airstrip.
Mrs. F doing what she does best, shopping, taking advantage of the natives ... heh ...
If I ever hear another Jimmy Buffet song it'll be too soon.
As if Noordam was a landing craft. Amazingly, you can walk out to the rope line and then the floor drops out to 100 feet. I swam out there and tried to get down to the keel. She's got 40 feet below the waterline.
Sun and fun with Mrs. F, now that the shopping's over.
Grand Turk (not so grand; 7 miles long and 1 1/4 mile wide) from our balcony. Just behind the buildings is an 8000 foot airstrip.
Mrs. F doing what she does best, shopping, taking advantage of the natives ... heh ...
If I ever hear another Jimmy Buffet song it'll be too soon.
As if Noordam was a landing craft. Amazingly, you can walk out to the rope line and then the floor drops out to 100 feet. I swam out there and tried to get down to the keel. She's got 40 feet below the waterline.
Sun and fun with Mrs. F, now that the shopping's over.
Posted by Fixer at 12:14
3 Comments:
Buffett's my man! He likes to fly around the Carib in his Grumman Goose, like the one I posted having a bad landing some time back. Here's my favorite line from one of his songs about it:
"Please don't shoot me down,
I am not the ganja plane!"
The ship ain't exactly anchored 'out', is it?
Fucking amazing, dude. She looks beached, don't she?
Indeed. If that scow was flat-bottomed enough to get that close to most beaches, it'da turned turtle a long time ago. Like at the dock in NY.
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