Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Preacher's Cave

Things have been a bit hectic around here lately. In consequence, I have not been as photo-snappy-happy as I usually am and so I don't have much new to talk about.

Funerals, airplane flights, and thunderstorms aren't too terribly interesting to talk about.

So when I'm all stressed out with nothing else interesting to talk about, my thoughts go back to my island.

I hope you don't mind my occasional forays to The Bahamas. I'm practicing for future blogs.

There is a tourist destination on the far north point of Eleuthera, called Preacher's Cave. Legend has it that a group of people searching for religious freedom set off from Bermuda looking for a new home. They crashed here, at the beach just to the north of this cave, and the survivors took refuge in this cave. Overtime, the survivors where rescued and others settled on the island, now called Eleuthera after that first group of freedom seekers, The Eleutherian Adventurers. Eleuthera means "freedom" in Greek.

Inside the mouth of the cave there is ample space to walk around and imagine yourself hunkering down during rain, hurricane, cold, and wind. And sermon.

There is a plaque carved by someone, sometime, that reads, "William Sayer, Shipwrecked at Devil Backbone, Found refuge here, Sermons held 100 years". I don't know anything about Mr. Sayer, but it is said that Christian religious ceremonies were held in this cave for many, many years. Thus the name, Preacher's Cave.

If you're brave enough to walk up either side of the hill that surrounds the mouth of the cave, you can find some spectacular portholes to look down. (With my luck and fear of heights, I would slip, stumble, or discover a new hole and go crashing to my demise.)

Hey Jerry and Jimmy!

Sure is holey in here, isn't it? Get it? Holy? Holey? Oh, never mind.

Looking past the graffiti and up into the hole above, the kids were all very excited to see some familiar faces peeking down at them. "Hey, Dad! How'd you get up there? Can I come?"

Absolutely, no way Jose, not on your life, not over my dead body, you must be crazy, ain't NO WAY you are going up there, kid. Period. End of story. The end.

Somehow we managed to get all of the kids and adults to sit nicely for a picture during our picnic lunch at the cave. (What you can't see is the good goosing I'm giving Jerry when the camera went off. We were bickering about something. I can't remember what, but the goose he got will forever be remembered.)

Until next time, you are dismissed. Go in peace.