It had been a great summer on Little Cayman. I was enjoying chilling out everyday on the beach and playing with the iguanas but I was ready for a new adventure and some international travel. It was Vacation Time!
Before my vacation I had one glorious Sunday Funday in Grand Cayman. I am blessed to have great friends to show me around the island. It was my first time on Grand and I fell in love instantly. Gorgeous beaches, perfect weather, great friends … what more could I possibly ever want?
I whole heartedly agreed to a Mudslide Challenge with my friends Frank and Kat. Going to various places sampling the local tipple seemed like a good way to spend my day. A mudslide is essentially a chocolate milkshake with a lot of alcohol. It is a little cup of heaven. The best part is the alcohol which is poured down the straw. SO good. I want one now .. what time is it? Is it after noon? I am going to have one …
Where was I? Yes, so we had Mudslide at 3 locations. Frank’s house. Excellent mudslide, exclusive location, good dogs. We then went to Rumpoint, a great beach bar where people come and hang out on their boats. That was a lot of fun. Sadly, I had mislaid my yacht that day but it was was still lots of fun on the beach. Rumpoint has gained infamy to me as the place where I narrowly avoided being hit in the face by a bird, while “subtly” checking out an attractive man behind me. Screaming in a public place during the day is a great way to get attention. Thirdly, we went to Over the Edge. We drank our mudslides while gazing at a perfect sunset. There is nothing like a Cayman Island’s sunset. A breathtakingly beautiful and slightly tipsy way to end the day.
After my challenge, I can now say with some certainty the best place to get a mudslide on Grand Cayman is … drumroll … Frank’s House! See you there.
Finally, a day trip! Hooray!!!
The Cayman Islands are made up of 3 islands. Grand Cayman is the big sister, Little Cayman is the baby and Cayman Brac is the middle child. I wasn’t quite yet for the Grand-ness of the big island so hopped over to the Brac for a day.
It is a little surprising that there is no ferry service between the islands. To leave Little Cayman involves having to take a little plane. Little Cayman airport is smaller than my apartment. It consists of 3 staff, a desk, a waiting room and a bench outside. If only all airports were like that (looking at you Giant Size of a City Miami airport). The flight to the Brac runs a few times a day, and on the little 14 seater Island Hopper plane takes about 15 minutes. Mid flight I am always tempted to tap on the pilot’s shoulder, point to the in-flight magazine beverage list and ask him for a Bloody Mary. Obviously, I would never do that. I hate Bloody Marys.
I wanted to see as much of the island as I could in one day so I rented a car. I can’t remember the last time I was even in a car, let alone drove one. As I pulled out of the car park I realised I had no idea which side of the road to drive on. I guessed and luckily, as I am still here to tell the tale, I was right! I also had no clue what the speed limit was so I went at a safe and steady 20 kilometres an hour all day. It may have been 20 miles. I wasn’t sure how to read the speedometer.
The scenery in the Brac is very dramatic. I marvelled at The Bluff, which I think means big, steep hill. Little did I know that I would be standing at the top of it by the end of the day…. In general I am not so good with the nature, but I took a little walk through some bushes and watched the waves crash against the rocks for a while. There were no people around. It was nice, beautiful even. I visited the Heritage Centre where a really enthusiastic guy showed me around and told me all about the history of the place. I seen a machine which was used to make rope in the past. That was pretty interesting, I always just presumed rope came from trees. He told me a bit about leather and how leather goods were made. He was really nice! Keep up the good work.
If anyone tells me I can’t do something, I have to prove them wrong. I would even climb up The Bluff in a summer dress, in the scorching heat of the day with no supplies, with a complete stranger. Someone …let’s call him John …. no wait that is maybe actually his name. Someone … let’s call him Raymond (name is changed to protect the innocent who might get in trouble for the massive health and safety breaches that followed) .. was standing with me looking up the bluff. “Yeah, I love climbing up there. I don’t think you could do it though”. I could practically see the word Barbie forming on his lips at the end of the sentence. “Little do you know … I am actually half mountain goat. Let’s go”. He protested for a while but then caved in, took off his shoes and led the way. I was hoping he would restrain me and say “NO … you are brave but it is simply too dangerous”. That did not happen and I ended up climbing to the top of the bloody thing. So …. the bluff is pretty steep. I am not afraid of heights. I am afraid of falling off high things and dying a slow painful death. It is a straight climb up stairs and rickety ladders with just twigs and foilage to pull myself up. There was a pretty gruesome fall to certain death. Half way up I did have a little angry talk to myself about making bad choices. Clearly it was too late to give up at this point. We finally reached the top and were greeted with gorgeous views of absolutely nothing. I could not see a thing past the trees. I did however get to walk across some dirty old cow troughs which was totally worth risking my life for. Five minutes of walking through mud and being scratched by nettles it was time to go back down. The climb down was horrendous. Going down you have no way of not looking at the death-drop. My guide was below me and I was very aware that he could see right up my dress the whole way. A little distracting for both of us. I made it to the end. Sweaty, dehydrated and covered in mud. But it was an adventure and I did it. “Oh wow … I loved it!” I said, flashed him a smile and limped away.
I got into my car, had a little pity cry and went grocery shopping. On the Brac there is so much more choice than we have in Little. Buying good cheese was worth the flight alone. I went a little mad buying dry goods and homeware. I drove around trying to find a very highly recommended smoothie shop, got there, perved over the menu, only to find they were closed. Sad face. I had to satisfy myself with a beer instead. That gave me a chance to chat to some locals. I like the Braccers. They are so proud of where they are from and that is a quality I really admire.
The Brac is well loved for its diving and its rock climbing, neither of which I did. I always love to explore new places and I had a very pleasant day out in Cayman Brac. Thank you Braccers!
This is going to go in the new “making my own entertainment” category. One of my girlfriend’s parents sent her over some very expensive fancy clay. This led to a Craft evening being put on that week’s social calendar. The four lovely ladies and I decided to make keepsake bracelets. We each had the task of picking an object and then making 5 of them so we could put one of each of our bracelets, alongside our initial. I chose a cupcake while the other ladies made a pizza, an octopus, an iguana and a Mickey Mouse. Our little objects were put in the oven to cook, then we threaded wire through them to make these totally hip and wearable bracelets. We were specifically told that the clay cost a lot of money and was not to be wasted so I obviously made a little bit pair of breasts, with a letter B, so it looked like the word Boo. I am gifted at crafts and satire. We had a Prettiest Hand Contest and some wine and cake. I mainly went along for the option to stroke a mentally ill cat. It was a fun night and I always like a party where I get to keep something.