Pacing and the Unshed, 25th Day of Midsommar, 526 M.E. (Castor): Time for a picture post!

My timing on this is terrible, but today, two full days after wrapping up my long story, I finally found the photographs I had taken on Barbuda back in 1984. I apologize for the poor quality, but the pictures are 42 years old, the 35-mm, point-and-shoot camera I used back then was shit, and I was too lazy to try scanning the photos and digitally clean them up and instead just shot pictures of the pictures with my phone (the glare on some of the pictures is reflections off the photo finish, not lens flare). But for better or for worse, here's the island from the air as I approached it with my trustworthy but not necessarily fully sober pilot:

I know I described the island as "a flat green spot out alone in the blue water," but looking at the photo, I realize now it was more of a brown stain in an emerald sea. Here's Codrington, or at least one house in Codrington, showing one of the rooftop cisterns everyone used to catch whatever rainwater they could. Below that are some of the island's children.

This is Bully, my island guide who helped me find the Spanish wells, and below that, the truck he used for taking me around, parked next to a 20th-century well that we came across. 

Here are some details of the old Spanish wells, their adjacent watering troughs, and the horses and burros that would suddenly appear as soon as I started drawing water from the wells. 

And finally, the rugged Barbuda landscape, from the Highlands down to the sea, complete with limestone boulders, scrub vegetation, and cacti. 

See? I told you it was all true. I can't believe that I forgot these pictures existed and I could have been including them in each post, but better late than never, I suppose. I don't have any photos of Charlie or Ralph and am not sure I would post them anyway even if I did, and no one from the glamorous entourage gave me any pictures of the topless volleyball on the nude beach. We'll have to leave that to our imaginations.