Mt. Nevis-Muddy-Shoes

I suppose I could have included this tidbit in that other post about Nevis (which, incidentally is pronounced "Knee-viss".  I know, right?  Never mind that it looks like "Neh-viss", it's definitely "Knee-viss".), but I climbed a volcano while staying on our wee island. 

Obviously this was a long-extinct volcano (extinct?  Are volcanoes extinct?  Defunct?  Dead?  Sleepy?  I think extinct is right; I'll go with that) and it's the highest point in the Caribbean.  I think.  It might just be the toughest climb in the Caribbean.  Either way.  I was hella nervous pre-climb and seriously considered not going for fear of slowing down my fellow hikers.  So glad I didn't do that and even more glad I have good friends who encourage me and know how to calm me when I get a bit cray-cray.

Here's the volcano.  The resemblance is remarkable.

Everyone else is in the Jeep.
The Jeep that had weird opaque windows you couldn't see through.
Just play along.

(It's 1:51 in the morning.  I should probably go to bed.) 

As good as my drawing up there is, here's a shot of Mt. Nevis for real (we weren't sure what its actual name is, so we dubbed it Mt. Nevis.  We very well could have completely made that up.)

Clouds.

This might be it too.  *shrug*

It was one of the funnest hikes/climbs I have ever done.  It was steep as shit and muddy as hell.  I fell numerous times (once off the trail with only a baby tree to break my fall) and was covered in bruises the next day.  And after all of that, we didn't even get to see the view from the top because that magnificent bastard was wearing a little cloud hat, but shit, it didn't even matter.  So. Much. Fun.

One of those muddy foots is my muddy foot.

The rest of our muddy selves.

After the climb there was much drinking and eating and rejoicing and frolicking and the day after the hike, there was in-home massages.  Yeah, horrible vacation.

PELICANS!

I have alluded to my trip to Nevis a few times now in my little blog.  Now that I'm nice and drunk and it's been a month+, I suppose now's a good time as any to talk about it.  Really, there's no reason other than sheer laziness and procrastination for having not written about it sooner.

Here's the least you need to know:  My friends, Nick and Eliza, invited me and some other super awesome folks to join them for a week at Eliza's parent's house on Nevis, a wee island near St. Kitts in the Caribbean.  I accepted their offer and proceeded to have the most decadent, wonderful week ever.  Ranks in my top three vacations, along with Peru and Tanzania.  You also need to know there will be a lot of pictures.

A few months ago I posted this picture, my first mention of the trip:

I AM SO TALENTED!

I didn't see a shark, but I totally wore that bathing suit and there was lots of drinking.  That plane is pretty spot-on too.

We stayed in this house:

 

This house is on the market, but my secret wish is that it never sells.

But seriously, it was a beautiful house; they spared no expense and our every need was met and then some.

See how close I was in my artistic rendition?

I  lived in this pool.

That entire outdoor porch/patio area?  It had automatic screens we could put down, along with misting organic bug spray shit, to save us from the mosquitoes.  Ridiculous. 

We all flew into St. Kitts, but I got there a bit later than everyone else so I missed the public ferry.  I'm pretty sure I just hopped on some random dude's boat and made my way over to Nevis.  "Oh, here's a dock.  And a boat.  You going to Nevis?  Sweet.  Can I bum a ride?"  Yup.  I showed up at the house to find everyone wearing what are clearly the greatest t-shirts ever made:

I hate this picture of myself, so you just get my boobs.
Thanks to Nick & Eliza for dressing us in such fly gear.

It took me a bit to notice.  "Why is everyone wearing green shir....  OMG!  THAT'S MY ART!"  (This is one of those times I wish there was a 'sarcastic' font.)

<And then lots of super-fun-awesome stuff happened.>

Seriously though, everything about that week was glorious -- our dynamic as a group couldn't have been better; we fit together like happy little pieces in a silly, drunk puzzle.  We relaxed, we laid by the pool, we read books, we laughed, we cooked delicious food (actually, I should scratch the "we" from that sentence because I didn't cook a damn thing), some of us climbed a volcano, some of us went snorkeling/SCUBA diving, etc., etc.  The weather was perfect, the house was perfect, the week was ... damn near perfect.  I don't mean to sound all Pollyanna-wearing-rose-tinted-glasses, but it really was a phenomenal vacation.  I don't have have a single complaint and I wouldn't have changed a thing.  I probably could have napped more, but other than that...

The sunsets were breathtaking.

I want to live here forever.

And don't even get me started on the clouds.

So puffy.

The clouds are real, but these were enhanced by the "dramatic tone" setting on my camera.

Even the storms are pretty.

(Quick aside:  As I type this up and drink my wine, I'm watching "Iron Man" for the twelfth time and there was just a scene where Obadiah/Jeff Bridges was smoking a cigar all up in Iron Man/Tony Stark/Robert Downey Jr's face.  What the hell did his breath smell like?  Did he have stank cigar breath?  I think about this all time, during every single movie I watch, ever.  Do they have good breath during these close-up, smoochie scenes?  Is there a mint guy on stand-by?  Is he like the gaffer?  A mint gaffer?  Or is that just a draw-back of being an actor?  Living in a cloud of someone's stank breath?)

Get this man a mint!

Anyway.  There were also pelicans.

PELICAN!

I found it surprisingly difficult to sit around and do nothing all day.  Not nothing-nothing; I was up by 6:30 or 7:00 most mornings, immediately jamming myself into my bathing suit and propping myself up pool-side.  I breakfasted, read, floated and breathed it all in.  That's something.

My "how ridiculous is my breakfast location?" face.
With ears.

I did read a book or two and as I said, there were lots of fun shenanigans, but mostly we just ... sat around.  I've never lounged and relaxed so much in my entire life.  It was hard, ya'll.  Hated it.

What I hated most though was the leaving part.  It's never easy to go back to the "real world" after a vacation, but this one was surprisingly difficult.  I've always known my friends are awesome -- I wouldn't surround myself with a group of drama-queen-douchcanoes -- but I was amazed at how easy it was to spend a week with them.  Seriously, wouldn't change a thing.

PELICAN!

Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges (pt. 2)

Sometimes my knees hurts.  Sometimes my hips hurts.  Every now and again my lower back hurts.  And sometimes, they all hurt in a symphony of "ugh".  So after years of that, I suddenly had the bright idea, "Perhaps I should go to the doctor?  I've got this health insurance just sittin' around.  Let me knock the dust off that ... health insurance."  So I went to the doctor and now I'm getting physical therapy.  Physical therapist says, "Your shit's all weak and shit.  Imma make it better by torturing you.  You're welcome."

I asked her opinion on my plan to walk 100 miles this month and she was very lukewarm on the idea.  She suggested I start out slow at the beginning of the month -- no hills and no long walks -- and just make it all up at the end.  That seemed hard and stressful come, say, May 15th when I'd only clocked about 10 miles.  So, I made the command decision (just call me Adama) to put off the walking 100 miles until September.  Why September?  Well, my friends, I'll tell you:  I am going to Ireland in December with my lovely friend, Jennie.  We're hiking for, like, 8 or 9 days, so it seems kind of "duh" not to do the 100 miles that month. I think we're walking around 10 or 15 miles a day, so making it to 100 will be easy-breezy.  I'm not going to lie, I feel like it's cheating a little bit to do it that month, but fuck it.  I'm just making this shit up as I go along anyway.

I should also mention I'm a little bit drunk right now.  Wine is delicious.

I should also mention I'm going to Ireland in September, not December, but I'm going to leave that up there to keep you all on your toes.

This is how I drink wine.

I am afraid of the wine I am drinking.
Also, I have giant boobs and one arm.
And you all know I never wear pink.
And my hair is not that long.

Instead of walking a bunch this month, I'll be icing my knees every day, doing a bunch of stretches an' shit and "Getting rid of one thing every day."  Not necessarily "one" thing, but "some"thing(s) every day.  I have a few days to make up now since I made this decision after the month had started, so I'll get rid of five things tomorrow.  I would do it tonight, but did I mention the wine?

Actually, I might do it tonight.  Fuckit.  I will do my best to get rid of something meaningful -- something I have some sort of weird attachment to.  That and just crap I have sitting around that I haven't used or touched in years because I don't know if I can get rid of 31 meaningful things and it'd be nice to just clear out some junk.  For example, I know I have a table under this couch I'm sitting on that I haven't used in more than 10 years.  I'm not evening joking.  I think I can let it go.  I am never going to use that table.

Most things I will likely give to Good Will/Salvation Army, but be on the lookout friends!  I will likely be passing off some of this shit to you, 'cause what else are friends for?

My sister sent me a card and I got it in the mail tonight.  It was very cute.  This is me and the card and the wine.

I am attractive in my post-workout ... glow?