Oz, revisited

A green tunnel of layers of leaves over translucent green water. And a wild tangle of roots holding up the riverbank. The emerald land of Oz, revisited.
Roy is rowing us up Indian River, all the while rattling off plant names in English and Latin. No motors allowed in this protected brakish waterway. Just the oars and the creaking wooden boat breaking the silence. And a blue heron taking flight from the bank. Small crabs scurry back into the shadows, hiding in the huge mangrove roots.
It's a kilometer of max 3m deep water in to a "jungle bar", where we take a cool mango juice before returning to town. Leaving this slow world, running on its lunar clock.

Prince Rupert, the town, is a Caribbean village where time seems to be ticking slowly, too. The small one-room shacks, unpainted wood shingles, some bright azure blue, line the long road along the sea. The tiny grocery stores are sparcely stocked.

In the blazing midday heat we decide to walk out to Fort Shirley. The Fort is part of Cabrits NAtional Park. The whole Cabrits Peninsula is being restored, trails cleared and signs raised. This Fort, which protected Prince Rupert's Bay, is huge, the old stone barracks and store-rooms getting spruced up, the cannons put back in place. This is one of the many Caribbean stages in the long and bitter battles between the French and the English. Eventually the British won this impoverished but strategic island between the two French colonies.
Not much said about the Caribs, no mention of Arawaks. The black West Indies Regiment was at one point severly discriminated. They revolted and were soon subdued again. Same old story.