The Hayman trip netted a couple more images, and my usually eventful experience obtaining them.
3am. Rustling about in the underbrush of the gorgeous tropical plants that are a foreign notion in the frosty clime of my backyard, I was leapt on by an unattractive toad of the cane variety. As my eyes adjusted to the light I became aware of its many friends including some that were piggy-backing each other. Ironically when all of this dawned on me, I found myself leaping aside, toad-like, to avoid testing the crush power of my jandal.
Finding a hole in the conspiracy of dense vegetation that stretches skyward, I spy Orion’s belt (the pot), just before the recycled water system gives me a thorough dosing. A vision of the island’s water treatment station flashes into mind, eclipsing my cane toad issues.
The pictures I’ve got from this trip have a 70’s quality to me, reminding me of those outdoor scenes you could wallpaper your living room wall with, or 70’s nightclubs in L.A. Perhaps it is the colours? The cheesy quality? Perhaps it’s just the palms.