Darwin and Co.
"You know, I could actually be standing in the exact place where Darwin once stood!" "Or a pirate. And a keg of rum."
I'm in a Dora the Explorer mood. While the others sunbathe and draw faces in the sand, Jarret, Monique and I turn away and disappear into the dry leaves and shrubbery. After a brief photo-shoot with a gorgeous pelican, perched on his high and mighty branch, the three of us scamper off in search of "something cool".
We have been snorkeling all day at Kicker Rock, consuming to exhaustion the wondrous wildlife, a whole other world that lay undiscovered beneath the crystal surface. Our suits stick close and clammy to our sandy bodies, our arms and legs ache (we suspect they may fall off soon), but our minds and hearts are happy and stuffed to the absolute brim with sightings of rays, sharks, even a sand dollar! We are content, with a feeling akin to one after a hot, fresh dinner following a strenuous work day.
Just as our buzzing pocket of energy is beginning to wear off, Jarret beckons us over. It is covered entirely with small spikes, the kinds you might find at a screamo Metallica concert, and is the shade of bleached white that puts Barbie's hair to shame. At one end, the specimen widened out into what looked scarily similar to a joint of a leg. We crow over the remains of this leg, and a shard of a spine bone with an inside mosaic pattern alike to that of a bee's hive.
Looking across the land of untouched history and life, its almost frightening. We could explore here for days, maybe even years and still uncover some new, incredible phenomenon every single day. Holding a fossil is like connecting yourself past any boundary of time or space. It precedes that. It is in a sense, a hope that some form of life will not remain forgotten.