like most of the best things, we had to work for a taste of naked tropical beach paradise. the walk was not long, but it did invlove 20 minutes of dense jungle assult. there were deep trenches of treacley mud to wade through, barefoot as is the custom, large slithery bolders to scale. there were ants, large and red by the million, there were other insects of infinite sizes and formations, there were hills to mount, there were even more perilous ravines to descend, there was the ever present threat of a lurking snake. there was also no sign, no guide, no clue which of the many thin trails carved into the thick and frightening vegetation was the one which would lead us to to naturist nirvana.
against the odds, we found it.
an arc of utterly untarnished sand. ferocious waves roaring and tumbling over an off shore coral reef, elegant palms slinking and swaying moodily in the welcome ocean breeze.
a disney consturction of a beach, somehow fitted with a machine churning out freindly families of feeding pelicans, halos of humming dragonflies and oversized and benevolent butterflies in photoshop enhanced colours
identifying Jose, completely naked, surveying the wild scene from the top of a dramatic pile of boulders, we followed suit, removing suits. the latent nicholas cavanagh in me baring it's bottom.
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