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Environmental Action: The captains fairytale channel
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Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #328) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 7:18 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

wds. 325

A challenge met. June twenty fifth. 1996


A story, A challenge, the rules rather simple, though in a way could be rather unique. However when looking for that particular twist, such a story could become very complicated… And it did!

It was at my seventy fifth birthday on a pleasant June afternoon in 1996. It was a small gathering at my favorite bar and a fun laden gang they were.

There were a couple of nasties that had crashed the seine and were verbally chastising my latest novel, Whores Horror. They rudely questioned me where I had gotten the idea for the yarn ? and I explained to them about Walter. You know Walter the guy that resides in my head shouting all kinds of orders when I am at the keyboard.

"Well," the man replied. If your Walter is so goddamned smart lets see if he can muster me up a story." I waited while he and his girlfriend mumbled in their beards. The audience amused, stood silently watching

"A riddle!" she screamed,

"Yes a riddle about something very serious! Perhaps even involving a murder, incest or even worse. " The he chimed in.

I was attentive and rather enjoying these two clowns as they struggled to find a challenge's to break Walter my friend. I must say, Walter in this entire life. Which had just turned 75, who never in all his years had ever had a writer's block. I smiled at the small audience who had come to listen. And held up a hand for silence as the man tormenter became seriously active. He said in a very loud voice. "Yes Don, or Walter if you prefer, a riddle of what you consider a most serious problem. He pondered for a moment then added "Your master piece sir." And he chuckled, "Must start with the words. 'The climb, and, end with the word Candy.

"Ha Walter! this one will be your demise." It was the woman who had raised the flag.

I rolled my eye up so as to stuffy the under side of my eye lids which I offend did when searching for Walter. "Well Walter," I thought, what do you think.

The tinkling in my ear said. "A piece of cake don. A piece of cake."

So find. The Leaching Field. A riddle of some thought by my self August 1996. Enjoy and ponder.

[A riddle not worth an edit, just a quick good spell and I send it to the press.]

don/

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #329) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 7:40 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

I thought it fun to share some of my crazyness with you. I sleep less than three hours a day and besides pulling weeds and worrying about ten thousand plant and tree missing their yummmies and thousands of gallons of water I spend the black hours of the night banging out yarns on my old apple II

It was suggested I do porn or some other exciting plots. but they always seemed to involve in sea stories or fairytales told by Twain. In fact I did do a year on the rivers looking or new plots. I sailed to china looking for more.

However I got lost in the Caribbean one time and here I found enough material that would pop the eyes of a frog.

Anyhow here find a new thread. enjoy

® the Wicked Minds Eye of Captain don/
c

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #330) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 7:42 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

No. 711 Leaching field
Subject: Island
In 4 parts.
Wds 8343




Part two

THE LEACHING FIELD



By the ® Wicked Mind’s Eye
of Captain Don
August 1996





Dedicated to George ‘Clam’ Buckley Phd
Friend and biologist extraordinary
Harvard University Md.



Version 1 . 0
by AKA Don A. Stewart
Copyrighted August 1996
Bonaire, Dutch Caribbean.





Part two Start
Unedited.


1996

The climb up into the Santa Barbara hills was a chore for the old car. The Captain brought his over heated jeep to a stop outside the house where he was told the meeting was to be held. He sat for a moment suspiciously looking at the place. Funny, he thought, in all his years on island he didn’t recall having seen this house before. He was rather puzzled because he thought he knew them all. Well! he thought. Every day another new house goes up somewhere.

He got out of the jeep and stood looking at the house, shaking his head as if trying to remember something, shrugged, moved to the house, took the steps up to the porch two at a time, and came to a stop among a forest of plants. It was dusk and there was no porch lighting. The vegetation was dense. Vines and broad leafed plants gave the place a jungle feeling, very much out of place on a desert island When he finally found the front door it was hidden deep in an overgrown corner.

He couldn't locate a button or bell, so he raised his fist intending a knock, aiming it for a white spot on the door when suddenly the door flung open, and the white spot became Christie‘s forehead. "Hey, Christie, what you doing here? You almost got yourself nailed," and the Captain grinned broadly.

Christie laughed a throaty noise and said, "Come on in, Cappy. Lanod and the others are waiting for you. You’re the last one, and we were getting a little concerned."

"Who’s Lanod?" queried the Captain.

"Christie smiled and said, "Oh, you know him." She took him by the arm and led him through the house and out to the back where there was a tight little patio, sparsely furnished, a table and a few chairs. A simple place like the front with an abundance of plants everywhere. From here the vista was magnificent, a picture window view of the entire southern end of Bonaire, Klein Bonaire, Hato, the Hotels, and Playa. It was dusk, and the coming lights below spread like a carpet of a dark yellow ground cover. It never ceased to impress him, considering that he had known the island almost before it had any lights at all. This view, particularly at this time of evening, never failed to flood him with a warm wave of nostalgia.

"Hey guys, look who I found on the door step," and Christie pushed the Captain out and into the patio.

" Hi guys," the Captain said, without really looking at any of them. He focused his attention instead on the gathering darkness at the faint line of the horizon to the south toward Venezuela where dull illuminations of spent lightning bounced from the clouds. In truth, not always threatening, but the Captain’s mind’s eye always watched for possible ill winds and water front damage. Then he put his attention to those on the patio. "Well, this is a real summit meeting." Then he looked at Christie, saying. "Even this bueatyful young woman who is dragging me about. Well boy's! What do we have for tonight?"

The Captain knew them all except for the older fellow sitting against the wall under a plastic parrot hanging from an oriental silk tree.. He looked American and didn’t bother to introduce himself, of no importance, and the Captain let his mind drift to other subjects. However, he had an uncanny feeling he had known this man some- where in the past, but as a dive master he had come to know literally thousands of tourists. Yet!!

Christie pushed him toward a chair and said, "Don’t get smart." She swept the room with her eyes. "I’m the secretary for this meeting tonight, so cool it." She pulled a chair out from under a banana plant, sat down, opened a note book on her lap, readied a pen and waited.

The Captain’s humor suddenly turned serious as he studied the four men scattered about the room in an array of disorder. "Well," he said, "This is like being in a school of yellow tails. A lotta bodies hanging around, and you never know exactly which one is going to take a nip at you." As he was saying this he looked at the man under the plastic parrot and positioned his chair so as to be able to watch them all at the same time. "What’s up, boys?"

Christie found it spooky, the way that each of them watched one another. Something about this meeting left her feeling a little queasy. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. There were only five men present, far fewer than most of her other conservation meetings. Perhaps it was because the subject matter was rather a little unusual. Unusual subjects, unusual men. They were the most qualified around. Four of them she had met before, The Captain she had known for years, where as Lanod she had just met. Somehow she felt a little distant tonight.

As the host and self appointed chairman, Lanod said, "Gentlemen, it is good of you to come. You may or may not know we are now in the eleventh hour. There’s not much time left." The others in the room looked at one another he continued, "Yes, there is again a grave concern for the ongoing existence of our reefs."

"Christ, yes," mumbled the Captain under his breath as he asked himself how in the hell does he know this?

Lanod was probably the most affluent of the group. Most likely a Pensanado and apparently financially comfortable. This house in Santa Barbara, for example. A ‘do gooder’ by nature and probably working harder now than he had before his retirement. You know, the usual story, a tax payer as well as concerned citizen, especially when his chosen island became a victim. He’d become active in many things extremely beneficial to conservation, but spent more hours contemplating his navel than possibly any other man on island. And he was a cancer, with little choice of his destiny.

Christie was busy in her note book , then looked up. "Hey!! Is somebody going to call this meeting to order."

"Do it, Stew," said the Captain.

Stewart, more accustomed to the formalities of meetings, cleared his throat, looked pleased and said. "I declare this meeting open," as he smiled at Christie who quickly jotted it down and thanked him.

"Meeting declared open by Stewart, February 30th 1996. Five in attendance on the porch of S. A. Lanod. Agenda is Sewage. Our reefs are under siege again.

Christie folded the note book in her lap and said, "Fellas, our reefs are dying, and it leaves me sick that no one is doing any thing about it." She looked down at her lap so they wouldn’t see the gathering tears. Then, ‘screw the tears Pissed, she looked up at them in anger. Curious, the Captain moved forward in his chair, as he rested his forearms on his knees. Watching. Christie screamed at them, "Well what are we gonna do about it? Don’t just sit there. Do something." Then almost ashamed of her outburst, she glanced down at her hands which were visibly shaking. It was bound to happen. Christie felt herself in a witness box, everyone staring at her. No one spoke, only watched. Then her attention returned to the room. "Well!" she sniffled, "We gotta do something."

It was Lanod who finally addressed Christie. "I think I can speak for all of us, Christie. " Politely, he waited for her to compose herself before he continued. "Years ago, long before the outside world ever knew that a Bonaire existed, we had discovered the value of an untouched, undamaged reef colony like the one which exists on the undersea slopes of this mountain, which is Bonaire. You might say it was destiny, the karma of this island, that it would one day eke an income from the exploiting of this natural resource. God only knows there was nothing else available."

"How in the hell does he know all of this?" The Captain was almost speaking aloud as he pondered this question.

"Brings to mind," continued Lanod, the rich gold fields of California in the 80’s. That’s 1880. Gold was a natural resource in a relatively unpopulated, unspoiled part of the country. When first discovered the gold brought madness to that part of the world. You know...gold fever. However, it eventually created a lotta jobs, produced wealth beyond imagination, and brought folks into California by the thousands. New towns and cities sprang up for immigrants of every nationality who had come for their gold, or because of it. Christie, think about it. There’s a very strong similarity here The discovery of a resource and the exploitation of it. The removal of a resource is the same as the destruction of it... in either case, it eventually is gone.

"God was kind to us, and for reasons not fully understood, those few who were busily disrupting our resource, actually were turned around and luckily for us these very same people became the guardians of our reefs today." He had been watching the Captain as he spoke

"Bonaire has become a hero, a pace setter, whose aquatic attitude has made a world wide impact,, It was Bonaire who first established a truly symbiotic relationship with our reefs. A man/sea concept for the entire aquatic world to follow.

"Now, today , Christie, Bonaire, has become the center of universal reef conservation. You might say Bonaire is to reef conversation what Greenwich is to time. Small , unknown, yet every conservationist in the world has heard of us and is now starting to copy our ways."

He paused, putting his attention directly to Christie. "About the time you were being born, Christie, so was this attitude concerning the preservation of our reefs which we now call conservation. And like yourself these ideals grew, knowing all sorts of growing pains. It wasn’t everyone who believed in what was being done, and we had opposition. However, these problems were addressed and, in time, solved. So today we not only have a beautiful Christie, but also a beautiful reef which has survived the thousands of suitors who have come a courting. You see, Christie, There has been a lot done already. The loving has never stopped. It has just become overwhelmed at times."

"Jeezez, Lanod, "said the Captain, "Where you getting all this stuff? You’ve really been doing your home work." Then as an after thought, "Did you know you sound just like Ronald Coleman?"

The hotel maverick, Stewart, the balding fellow in the wicker chair over against the far wall, started to chuckle. "Coleman. Ugh!! Very good, Captain. I didn’t think you were old enough to remember the good old days... And speaking of the old days, it was wild, really wild. I remember when this crazy Captain got in a fight with a couple of Venezuelan spearfishermen when he told them, "We don’t shoot fish no more." To make a point, he also informed them he owned the only air compressor in town. Then the fur started to fly. The Captain got pissed, and he picked up those guns and literally wrapped both of them around a steel post. I want to tell you Christie, it took the Tourist Office some doing to calm this thing down. But the crazy Captain had made his point."

STEWART had an impressive tract record. On his third hotel now. Managed two. Built and owned the third. Writes fiction for a hobby and has the reputation of a man who sets goals and gets them done.

The Captain jumped to his feet. "Think that was bad? I remember Stew here getting mad at some New York tourists once for ripping up corals, bringing them back to the hotel, and piling them in front of their rooms. It really stank the place up. Stew told them, "No more," but they didn’t listen. So when they returned from snorkeling the following day with an arm full corals, they found all of their clothes and stuff stacked in the old V/W bus. No kidding. He had emptied their room and then made a reservation for them on the next plane off island. Of course he had ripped their bill up, but you know, I honestly don’t think he gave as much a damn about the damage to the reefs as the stink the coral made in his hotel."

Adams , the horticulturist said, "I never heard about that!"

"Wouldn’t think so," said Stewart. "You weren’t around in those good ‘ol days."

Lanod looked over at the Captain thinking that he should be in Hollywood. A real California fruit cake. , An aquatic madman. Big sailing ships, deep oceans, and of course all the stuff that swims in it. Lanod wondered the truth of it all. He claims to have been in love with a Maidmer. You know, Maidmer, half fish and half woman, with the fish on top. A real reef ’oholic, self appointed conservation- ist. Hung up his spear gun in the early 60’s. Installed several dozen dive site moorings and named half a hundred of them. Then orchestrated diving procedures that guaranteed the on going health of the reefs. A true sentinel to ‘Earth’s last frontier’. Like a string of fire crackers, you never knew when one was going to go off next.

The host offered hard candies around. Stewart took several and popped one into his mouth. The others opted for beers.

"There is a great concern," Stewart said, rolling the candy around in his mouth. "on everybody’s mind about our recent problems with the reefs. I personally have heard of numerous... problems, that is... A lot of problems, yet none of them have been really defined. However, it is speculated that a toilet is somehow involved. What few solutions that I’ve heard... Well, quite frankly, I think they all suck."

Lanod, was quiet for a moment, then jumped back into the conversation with renewed vigor. "It wasn’t by accident that I asked you here tonight. We need to do a little serious brain storming. All of us. We all know that the latest threat to the reefs is Water, pure and simple... The juices of . Fecal effluents. Really... This could be the Last Straw. When is it going to stop?" He looked around the room for support, then directly at Stewart. "Your toilets, Mr. Stewart."

"Christie here is Amigo di Terra. A girl I consider with a good head," Lanod looked at her and smiled. "A little Calamity Jane leaks out of her every now and then, but!!" He returned his attention back to the group. "For example, this thing of hers with Klein Bonaire and the intended low rent housing development and the probable destruction of its reefs has become an exercise. What kind of a democracy are we if lawful property owners can’t develop their own domain. It’s zoning we need, gentlemen. Pure and simple zoning, combined with owner’s consideration of his neighbor, the reefs. That property should be zoned... Green."

"Green! What’s that?" asked Adams.

"Green," said Lanod, "is green-zoned. You know... Natural... Back to the future, and forward to the past. It was suggested to me yesterday that the Government buy the island, then rent it to goat herders for their flocks. Well!! That’s an idea. However, for the records, I’m sorry that it has come this far. I naturally would like to see Klein Bonaire remain primitive, but like taxes, if we are part of the community, we live with their decision.

"However, Christie’s real challenge, the challenge of the future, is the Mountain, and it always will be. The mountain top in the sea. Our mountain, Bonaire, the peak, and its fragile clinging reefs. ."Lanod sat in silence for a moment watching Christie. Then, added, "I’m asking for her involvement in this new challenge."

"What new challenge?" questioned Don the practical engineer who had been sitting quietly on a cushion in the corner.

Lanod looked over into the darkness of the corner and said. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering when you were going to surface?"

Don’s been around for a long time, In fact just as long as the Captain has. He fancies himself an engineer (of sorts, he says.) A little shy, he keeps to himself a lot, but he has a non stop brain brimming with new ideas. Years ago, before doing lots of other things, he spent his life in the factories, inventing all sorts of good things and the machinery, to make them. Has one patent to his credit, and he just loves mechanical problems. Financial problems are admittedly not his forte. For the last five years he has been busy designing and building irrigation and septic water systems. Automatic computer controlled watering devices and stuff like that.

"Why isn’t the Marine Park here? " the Captain demanded, a trace of anger in his voice. ‘A firecracker had just gone off’, and the porch went quiet.

Stewart shifted his weight in his chair and, obviously annoyed, looked down his aquiline nose at the Captain. "We," and he motioned with his hand toward Lanod, "felt it... a... little premature for the biologists to enter." He was lost in thought for a moment, then, "They’re in the wing, waiting... No, no, not really in the wing because they weren’t invited." His voice dropped. "There will be time for them later.’’ He slouched down in his chair, his brows coming down, his mind mulling. Then, "Frankly we find the biologists, well ,we feel that they sometimes get in their own way. They can bog down a meeting faster than a bucket of water over a squawking hen. Let’s just forget them for the moment and hear what Lanod has to say. Okay!"


End part 2


 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #331) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 7:45 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

No. 711 Leaching field
Subject: Island
In 4 parts.
Wds 8343




Part two

THE LEACHING FIELD



By the ® Wicked Mind’s Eye
of Captain Don
August 1996





Dedicated to George ‘Clam’ Buckley Phd
Friend and biologist extraordinary
Harvard University Md.



Version 1 . 0
by AKA Don A. Stewart
Copyrighted August 1996
Bonaire, Dutch Caribbean.





Part two Start
Unedited.


1996

The climb up into the Santa Barbara hills was a chore for the old car. The Captain brought his over heated jeep to a stop outside the house where he was told the meeting was to be held. He sat for a moment suspiciously looking at the place. Funny, he thought, in all his years on island he didn’t recall having seen this house before. He was rather puzzled because he thought he knew them all. Well! he thought. Every day another new house goes up somewhere.

He got out of the jeep and stood looking at the house, shaking his head as if trying to remember something, shrugged, moved to the house, took the steps up to the porch two at a time, and came to a stop among a forest of plants. It was dusk and there was no porch lighting. The vegetation was dense. Vines and broad leafed plants gave the place a jungle feeling, very much out of place on a desert island When he finally found the front door it was hidden deep in an overgrown corner.

He couldn't locate a button or bell, so he raised his fist intending a knock, aiming it for a white spot on the door when suddenly the door flung open, and the white spot became Christie‘s forehead. "Hey, Christie, what you doing here? You almost got yourself nailed," and the Captain grinned broadly.

Christie laughed a throaty noise and said, "Come on in, Cappy. Lanod and the others are waiting for you. You’re the last one, and we were getting a little concerned."

"Who’s Lanod?" queried the Captain.

"Christie smiled and said, "Oh, you know him." She took him by the arm and led him through the house and out to the back where there was a tight little patio, sparsely furnished, a table and a few chairs. A simple place like the front with an abundance of plants everywhere. From here the vista was magnificent, a picture window view of the entire southern end of Bonaire, Klein Bonaire, Hato, the Hotels, and Playa. It was dusk, and the coming lights below spread like a carpet of a dark yellow ground cover. It never ceased to impress him, considering that he had known the island almost before it had any lights at all. This view, particularly at this time of evening, never failed to flood him with a warm wave of nostalgia.

"Hey guys, look who I found on the door step," and Christie pushed the Captain out and into the patio.

" Hi guys," the Captain said, without really looking at any of them. He focused his attention instead on the gathering darkness at the faint line of the horizon to the south toward Venezuela where dull illuminations of spent lightning bounced from the clouds. In truth, not always threatening, but the Captain’s mind’s eye always watched for possible ill winds and water front damage. Then he put his attention to those on the patio. "Well, this is a real summit meeting." Then he looked at Christie, saying. "Even this bueatyful young woman who is dragging me about. Well boy's! What do we have for tonight?"

The Captain knew them all except for the older fellow sitting against the wall under a plastic parrot hanging from an oriental silk tree.. He looked American and didn’t bother to introduce himself, of no importance, and the Captain let his mind drift to other subjects. However, he had an uncanny feeling he had known this man some- where in the past, but as a dive master he had come to know literally thousands of tourists. Yet!!

Christie pushed him toward a chair and said, "Don’t get smart." She swept the room with her eyes. "I’m the secretary for this meeting tonight, so cool it." She pulled a chair out from under a banana plant, sat down, opened a note book on her lap, readied a pen and waited.

The Captain’s humor suddenly turned serious as he studied the four men scattered about the room in an array of disorder. "Well," he said, "This is like being in a school of yellow tails. A lotta bodies hanging around, and you never know exactly which one is going to take a nip at you." As he was saying this he looked at the man under the plastic parrot and positioned his chair so as to be able to watch them all at the same time. "What’s up, boys?"

Christie found it spooky, the way that each of them watched one another. Something about this meeting left her feeling a little queasy. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. There were only five men present, far fewer than most of her other conservation meetings. Perhaps it was because the subject matter was rather a little unusual. Unusual subjects, unusual men. They were the most qualified around. Four of them she had met before, The Captain she had known for years, where as Lanod she had just met. Somehow she felt a little distant tonight.

As the host and self appointed chairman, Lanod said, "Gentlemen, it is good of you to come. You may or may not know we are now in the eleventh hour. There’s not much time left." The others in the room looked at one another he continued, "Yes, there is again a grave concern for the ongoing existence of our reefs."

"Christ, yes," mumbled the Captain under his breath as he asked himself how in the hell does he know this?

Lanod was probably the most affluent of the group. Most likely a Pensanado and apparently financially comfortable. This house in Santa Barbara, for example. A ‘do gooder’ by nature and probably working harder now than he had before his retirement. You know, the usual story, a tax payer as well as concerned citizen, especially when his chosen island became a victim. He’d become active in many things extremely beneficial to conservation, but spent more hours contemplating his navel than possibly any other man on island. And he was a cancer, with little choice of his destiny.

Christie was busy in her note book , then looked up. "Hey!! Is somebody going to call this meeting to order."

"Do it, Stew," said the Captain.

Stewart, more accustomed to the formalities of meetings, cleared his throat, looked pleased and said. "I declare this meeting open," as he smiled at Christie who quickly jotted it down and thanked him.

"Meeting declared open by Stewart, February 30th 1996. Five in attendance on the porch of S. A. Lanod. Agenda is Sewage. Our reefs are under siege again.

Christie folded the note book in her lap and said, "Fellas, our reefs are dying, and it leaves me sick that no one is doing any thing about it." She looked down at her lap so they wouldn’t see the gathering tears. Then, ‘screw the tears Pissed, she looked up at them in anger. Curious, the Captain moved forward in his chair, as he rested his forearms on his knees. Watching. Christie screamed at them, "Well what are we gonna do about it? Don’t just sit there. Do something." Then almost ashamed of her outburst, she glanced down at her hands which were visibly shaking. It was bound to happen. Christie felt herself in a witness box, everyone staring at her. No one spoke, only watched. Then her attention returned to the room. "Well!" she sniffled, "We gotta do something."

It was Lanod who finally addressed Christie. "I think I can speak for all of us, Christie. " Politely, he waited for her to compose herself before he continued. "Years ago, long before the outside world ever knew that a Bonaire existed, we had discovered the value of an untouched, undamaged reef colony like the one which exists on the undersea slopes of this mountain, which is Bonaire. You might say it was destiny, the karma of this island, that it would one day eke an income from the exploiting of this natural resource. God only knows there was nothing else available."

"How in the hell does he know all of this?" The Captain was almost speaking aloud as he pondered this question.

"Brings to mind," continued Lanod, the rich gold fields of California in the 80’s. That’s 1880. Gold was a natural resource in a relatively unpopulated, unspoiled part of the country. When first discovered the gold brought madness to that part of the world. You know...gold fever. However, it eventually created a lotta jobs, produced wealth beyond imagination, and brought folks into California by the thousands. New towns and cities sprang up for immigrants of every nationality who had come for their gold, or because of it. Christie, think about it. There’s a very strong similarity here The discovery of a resource and the exploitation of it. The removal of a resource is the same as the destruction of it... in either case, it eventually is gone.

"God was kind to us, and for reasons not fully understood, those few who were busily disrupting our resource, actually were turned around and luckily for us these very same people became the guardians of our reefs today." He had been watching the Captain as he spoke

"Bonaire has become a hero, a pace setter, whose aquatic attitude has made a world wide impact,, It was Bonaire who first established a truly symbiotic relationship with our reefs. A man/sea concept for the entire aquatic world to follow.

"Now, today , Christie, Bonaire, has become the center of universal reef conservation. You might say Bonaire is to reef conversation what Greenwich is to time. Small , unknown, yet every conservationist in the world has heard of us and is now starting to copy our ways."

He paused, putting his attention directly to Christie. "About the time you were being born, Christie, so was this attitude concerning the preservation of our reefs which we now call conservation. And like yourself these ideals grew, knowing all sorts of growing pains. It wasn’t everyone who believed in what was being done, and we had opposition. However, these problems were addressed and, in time, solved. So today we not only have a beautiful Christie, but also a beautiful reef which has survived the thousands of suitors who have come a courting. You see, Christie, There has been a lot done already. The loving has never stopped. It has just become overwhelmed at times."

"Jeezez, Lanod, "said the Captain, "Where you getting all this stuff? You’ve really been doing your home work." Then as an after thought, "Did you know you sound just like Ronald Coleman?"

The hotel maverick, Stewart, the balding fellow in the wicker chair over against the far wall, started to chuckle. "Coleman. Ugh!! Very good, Captain. I didn’t think you were old enough to remember the good old days... And speaking of the old days, it was wild, really wild. I remember when this crazy Captain got in a fight with a couple of Venezuelan spearfishermen when he told them, "We don’t shoot fish no more." To make a point, he also informed them he owned the only air compressor in town. Then the fur started to fly. The Captain got pissed, and he picked up those guns and literally wrapped both of them around a steel post. I want to tell you Christie, it took the Tourist Office some doing to calm this thing down. But the crazy Captain had made his point."

STEWART had an impressive tract record. On his third hotel now. Managed two. Built and owned the third. Writes fiction for a hobby and has the reputation of a man who sets goals and gets them done.

The Captain jumped to his feet. "Think that was bad? I remember Stew here getting mad at some New York tourists once for ripping up corals, bringing them back to the hotel, and piling them in front of their rooms. It really stank the place up. Stew told them, "No more," but they didn’t listen. So when they returned from snorkeling the following day with an arm full corals, they found all of their clothes and stuff stacked in the old V/W bus. No kidding. He had emptied their room and then made a reservation for them on the next plane off island. Of course he had ripped their bill up, but you know, I honestly don’t think he gave as much a damn about the damage to the reefs as the stink the coral made in his hotel."

Adams , the horticulturist said, "I never heard about that!"

"Wouldn’t think so," said Stewart. "You weren’t around in those good ‘ol days."

Lanod looked over at the Captain thinking that he should be in Hollywood. A real California fruit cake. , An aquatic madman. Big sailing ships, deep oceans, and of course all the stuff that swims in it. Lanod wondered the truth of it all. He claims to have been in love with a Maidmer. You know, Maidmer, half fish and half woman, with the fish on top. A real reef ’oholic, self appointed conservation- ist. Hung up his spear gun in the early 60’s. Installed several dozen dive site moorings and named half a hundred of them. Then orchestrated diving procedures that guaranteed the on going health of the reefs. A true sentinel to ‘Earth’s last frontier’. Like a string of fire crackers, you never knew when one was going to go off next.

The host offered hard candies around. Stewart took several and popped one into his mouth. The others opted for beers.

"There is a great concern," Stewart said, rolling the candy around in his mouth. "on everybody’s mind about our recent problems with the reefs. I personally have heard of numerous... problems, that is... A lot of problems, yet none of them have been really defined. However, it is speculated that a toilet is somehow involved. What few solutions that I’ve heard... Well, quite frankly, I think they all suck."

Lanod, was quiet for a moment, then jumped back into the conversation with renewed vigor. "It wasn’t by accident that I asked you here tonight. We need to do a little serious brain storming. All of us. We all know that the latest threat to the reefs is Water, pure and simple... The juices of . Fecal effluents. Really... This could be the Last Straw. When is it going to stop?" He looked around the room for support, then directly at Stewart. "Your toilets, Mr. Stewart."

"Christie here is Amigo di Terra. A girl I consider with a good head," Lanod looked at her and smiled. "A little Calamity Jane leaks out of her every now and then, but!!" He returned his attention back to the group. "For example, this thing of hers with Klein Bonaire and the intended low rent housing development and the probable destruction of its reefs has become an exercise. What kind of a democracy are we if lawful property owners can’t develop their own domain. It’s zoning we need, gentlemen. Pure and simple zoning, combined with owner’s consideration of his neighbor, the reefs. That property should be zoned... Green."

"Green! What’s that?" asked Adams.

"Green," said Lanod, "is green-zoned. You know... Natural... Back to the future, and forward to the past. It was suggested to me yesterday that the Government buy the island, then rent it to goat herders for their flocks. Well!! That’s an idea. However, for the records, I’m sorry that it has come this far. I naturally would like to see Klein Bonaire remain primitive, but like taxes, if we are part of the community, we live with their decision.

"However, Christie’s real challenge, the challenge of the future, is the Mountain, and it always will be. The mountain top in the sea. Our mountain, Bonaire, the peak, and its fragile clinging reefs. ."Lanod sat in silence for a moment watching Christie. Then, added, "I’m asking for her involvement in this new challenge."

"What new challenge?" questioned Don the practical engineer who had been sitting quietly on a cushion in the corner.

Lanod looked over into the darkness of the corner and said. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering when you were going to surface?"

Don’s been around for a long time, In fact just as long as the Captain has. He fancies himself an engineer (of sorts, he says.) A little shy, he keeps to himself a lot, but he has a non stop brain brimming with new ideas. Years ago, before doing lots of other things, he spent his life in the factories, inventing all sorts of good things and the machinery, to make them. Has one patent to his credit, and he just loves mechanical problems. Financial problems are admittedly not his forte. For the last five years he has been busy designing and building irrigation and septic water systems. Automatic computer controlled watering devices and stuff like that.

"Why isn’t the Marine Park here? " the Captain demanded, a trace of anger in his voice. ‘A firecracker had just gone off’, and the porch went quiet.

Stewart shifted his weight in his chair and, obviously annoyed, looked down his aquiline nose at the Captain. "We," and he motioned with his hand toward Lanod, "felt it... a... little premature for the biologists to enter." He was lost in thought for a moment, then, "They’re in the wing, waiting... No, no, not really in the wing because they weren’t invited." His voice dropped. "There will be time for them later.’’ He slouched down in his chair, his brows coming down, his mind mulling. Then, "Frankly we find the biologists, well ,we feel that they sometimes get in their own way. They can bog down a meeting faster than a bucket of water over a squawking hen. Let’s just forget them for the moment and hear what Lanod has to say. Okay!"


End part 2


 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #333) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 3:59 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

Coming attraction

Living the Script is a novel by the Wicked Minds Eye of Captain don/
Finalizing at 138,000 words on January one 2006
The story is V rated. ( Halfway between R and X )
Written on a Mac. Office 98

This is a story of a young sea going Indiana Jones type of young man who is the Captain of the Hannibal, large a ocean going sailing schooner.

Captain Flynn, a ladies man. a spirit demanding excitement, was never known to turn away from a bar room brawl., take on jungle fighters, battle his way through hurricanes, then not only to challenge, but to lock horns with a German submarine

Flynns was living the scrip. The script of a screen play he had written called Quest for Adventure. He became a gun runner for the commies of Nicaragua. Womanizing his way around the banana republic and finding him-self in new scraps at each turn of the page. Living the Script is one hellova an exciting read.

It all began when a young naval cadet, serving his term aboard His Majesties Brigantine the Hannibal, a replica of a once famous British sailing ship had been fabricated a the most illogical place. On the sands of the Mesa desert in lower California just miles north of the Mexican boarder

The young cadet A most creative fellow had authored a movie script called Quest for Adventure. It had attracted California pictures who said they would put the boys script onto the big silver screen, However, things being what they were. Money was tight. It was January 1930 just months after the crash, and that he would now have to furnish the main prop. Which was a large sail boat if he wanted his script to be filmed.

The boys father, a San Francisco Stockbroker, rich and famous had squirreled away dozens of small gold bars anticipating the market crash. Taking only a few of these the boy. Flynn purchased the schooner Alrean, a ship exactly what the script called for. On delivering the ship to Hollywood, California Pictures informed him that the studio could no longer to do the shoot because of expected budget cuts.

Flynn cried out! What the hell am I going to do with the ship? California pictures curtly said. Just live you script,,, Just live your script Mister Flynn

So I did! Captain don/





 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By elaine sculley (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #333) on Wednesday, July 23, 2008 - 9:56 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

lovely. want more!!!!!!!!!!!.
es

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #334) on Saturday, July 26, 2008 - 1:24 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

The leaching field par three of four

"You know..." Lanod continued, looking at Stewart, wondering about all these theatrical implications. Then moving forward in his chair, he emphasized his intended remark with a wave of his hand. ‘‘As we watch this thing develop... And we are talking sewage and the alleged damage that is being done by it to our reefs as well as the fact that it’s just plain unsanitary and stinks. Then we hear tell of some great White Prince with X X millions of guilders who will with untold numbers of pneumatic hammers trench our beautiful island with so many canals we will look like Flanders field in 1916. A sewer system, you bet! A some day wish! I’m told it took Holland fifty years to install theirs. BUT while the Klip Chips are flying our reef is saying ... Ayo,"

Lanod, now warming to his subject, continued. "The biologists, nearly fanatical... Though I don’t understand why, as their livelihood does not depend on the well being of the reefs. In fact, it seems to me, that a healthy reef should be of little concern to them. Actually I should suppose a sick reef could give them all the work they would ever need. However, I do believe the reports of the biologists. When the roosters crow, you know morning is not far behind. The warning flags are up, and we had better all pay attention. Okay, okay. But what are the recourses? What is expected of us? And by whom?" He thought for a moment, looking at Stewart. "Yes, Stew, the biologists are in the wing, and it won’t be much longer before we’re calling them on stage.

"For example..." Lanod was getting his second wind and rolling up his sleeves to have a real verbal go around. "A guy, who is actually a friend, owns a sea side restaurant, and a damned good one I might add, and like most of us makes the greatest percentage of his income from the tourists. I would hazard a guess that 80% of his clientele are tourists and for the most part, of course, divers. In conversation, with him the other day we got talking about a new septic system that he had attached to his old one. I asked how it was working, and he told me it wasn’t. The septic water was more than he or the beer put truck could handle. You know, dish washing and stuff like that. His problem was that everything was going into the same tank. All waters had become infected by the W.C. Anyhow the end result was he drilled a deep leaching hole next to his put... Fellas, he’s only meters from the sea.

"Where do you think all that stuff is going?" I asked him. "It ain’t going to Antriol. He almost cried because he knew exactly what he had done and exactly where all that septic water was heading. But there seemed to be no recourse in his reasoning, and there wasn’t. "Lanod took a couple of deep breaths then asked. "You getting all this, Christie?

"You bet!" she told him and held up a Yamaha recording machine.

Adams picked up the tray of candies and offered some to the Captain, who took one and slipped it into his mouth. Adams set the tray down and leaned back against the wall while he watched the Captain with unusual interest, as also did Don who had been sitting in his corner very quietly watching.

This guy ADAMS hasn’t been around as long as the others and is not familiar with the seas and the problems that were being addressed tonight. He’s a good man. A self taught horticulturist, living with his lady Janni and eleven thousand plants. on a very productive ornamental plant farm. Has a green thumb that he says god gave him. "She did," he said. He’s got a bee in his bonnet that it’s his personal responsibility to make Bonaire green. "Start with garden plants, he says, get folks appreciating green beauty, understanding plant life a little more. Once they get a yard full of plants they will start looking for more objective things to do with green. Like making FOOD. "He’s a die hard and swears he will introduce hydroponics to Bonaire before they put him amongst the roots. Today his target is water. He knows it’s around. He says he can ‘Smell it’.

Stewart says, "Should be around my place when we water the gardens. You bet you can smell it!" He thought about what he had just said for a moment, then added, "Perhaps that’s why the biologists said we had to stop using septic water on our plants. My God, is it possible that the biologists are now even in the tourist office?"

Christie, looking up, said. "What! Did I understand you right? in the tourist office?"

Stewart looked annoyed and waved the question off.

The Captain, enjoying his candy, even had Christie’s attention, though she didn’t wish to make it obvious. She even thought that she might have been holding her breath as she watched him rolling the candy around in his mouth. Then suddenly he came forward , spit the candy out into the palm of his hand, looked down at it. Then he brought it up before his eyes, and held it delicately between forefinger and thumb. "What the hell!!!" he exclaimed. "This thing tastes like WATER!" as he continued to study the moist candy.

Adams laughingly said, "On target, Christie," and she relaxed.

"What the hell ya talking about," whined the Captain still looking down at the candy.

"Shall I tell him?" inquired Don looking up at Adams who was having difficulty keeping any semblance of composure.

Adams, sputtering, unable to talk, he was snickering so hard, nodded, and started laughing again. And as he did Christie almost choked trying to stem a snort. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her handkerchief was unfurled.

"Okay, guys," responded Don who was very straight faced and unaffected by Adams’ humor or anybody else’s for that matter... "You all know the sort of business I’m in. Adams grows the plants. builds gardens, and I do the drip irrigation systems, and especially a lot of work with Beerputs & Septic tanks. You know installing pumps, filters, stuff like that.

Stewart, still sucking on his candy, was oblivious to the plot that was thickening, trying to unravel the infectious humor between these people. Then like a warming lamp filament, it struck him. He slowly tongued the candy from his mouth, spit it out into his hand, looked down at it, then said, almost to the candy itself, Beer put!

It took several long seconds to settle Adams down. However, the truth was out. "No harm intended," Don said. It was really all my idea. Like it?"

"How??" whispered Stewart. "I think we’d better hear about this."
"You know," Don said, "I got thinking about you and other hotels and your goddamned leaching holes." He was looking unsmilingly at Stewart. "Leaching holes... mass emission of septic effluents pouring it into the Klip is no different than dumping it straight into the sea."... You people are criminals...
"I thought it would be nice if both you and the tourists, the ones who make all this, this Wayy Cee Ade, you know W/C, pronounced Wayy Cee, and the juice like in lemon ade, ADE. Clear as a glass of WEB’s water, only loaded with all good stuff that Adams likes for his plants, and some Benzene from bad detergents... that’s nothing in itself unless Cholera is on the loose. But the last thing in the world that any healthy sea needs is Fertilizing.
Well, anyhow, it tastes like, well just like that hard candy Christie made, ‘Taste the Waste.’ My coined phrase for septic tank effluents is simply Wayy Cee Ade, You know, like in lemonade, and I thought it would be nice if the people who made that stuff had the opportunity of knowing just what it tastes like so they would recognize it when they were swimming through a bloom of their own . This way they would know the flavor before hand. So with Adams’ help and Christie at the stove we duplicated the flavor. The real flavor of Wayy Cee Ade.
"Hey, Captain, how did you know the taste of water?" The question was put forth by Adams who was watching the Captain intently.
"Very simply," the Captain started to say...
Stewart violently interrupted, "You crazy Sonovabitch, what the hell you know about tourists?" This outburst was aimed at Don. "What do you know about the hotel business? What are you trying to do? Close us all down? You and your goddamned precious reefs. Obnoxious candy. If you’re so damned smart, solve the problem. Don’t aggravate it!"
And that was exactly the challenge Don had been waiting to hear.
Then he gave Stewart the ‘T’ signal and said. "As you were saying, Captain?"
The Captain said, "Better slow it down, Stew, or you’ll be having a heart attack!...Now...Oh yeah... water. Must have been around 74 maybe 75 that the beer put wagon, honey wagon to my guys, used to dump there at Ol’ Blue just a little West of our dive entry. You’re not a diver, Adams, so you wouldn’t’ know that, but it was a favorite dive site of mine. Dived it with my old Dodge truck. Took 10, 12 divers with me. If I ever saw the honey wagon any where on the road north, I’d change dive sites, but if the timing was wrong, and every one was in the water when the wagon started its discharging, we got it. If the current was running west we were saved. However?... And that’s another story."
"Well !" said Don, "at least they didn’t use any leaching holes."
"The hell they didn’t," returned the Captain. "We complained so much they stopped dumping it in the ocean and went across the road, found a large sink hole. Could still be dumping there for all I know."
Don looked at him for some seconds ,then turned his attention to Stewart. "For one thing," he said, "those goddamned precious reefs are his." And he pointed to the Captain. "and the obnoxious candy is mine... Pretty good eh!"
Christie, raisied her voice. "Cool it, cool it, you guys. You’re acting like kids. If you can’t behave, I’m splitting... So Cool it!"
Don looked at Christie with a smirk and continued. "I was hoping for your approval, Stewart. Fat chance. You’re an asswhole! Don’t you tell me I don’t know tourists. I’ve been around just as long as you have." ‘Well’, he thought,, then continued. "Okay, where was I? Oh yeah! Wayy Cee Ade. I’m in that stuff all the time and really know the flavor.. All it takes is for a Wayy Cee pressure hose to spring a leak when I’m working on it, and the truth is mine. "Sickeningly sweet." He looked over at Christie. "Took a lotta guts for her to take a sip of Wayy Cee Ade so she could duplicate the flavor." Don fell silent for a moment, looking hard at Stewart, relaxed, then looked over at the Captain. "Well, what do ya think?"
The Captain looked down at the candy as if it were alive , then with out ado jumped it back into his mouth shrieking "Great... Great... I love it. I love it. My god, what an idea. Sweet leaping lizards. I ‘d know that flavor anywhere. The Captain’s brows came down, and he said, "And I thought I was fighting this one alone. Spear guns, cameras, asses and elbows, anchors and chains... I have fought them all. Now comes the seeping crud."
End part 2

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #335) on Sunday, July 27, 2008 - 8:15 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

Here is another Sunday. No big deal for a farmer

Thinking of you Ms Carole B I took another our down the face of the island.the other day. All of it and recounted the new buildings. My 1200 was pretty close. Gravel Cement and a million building blocks Ms Carole B, our island is gone, I am too old to find another, but you can.

Anyhow my ship has long ben eaten by the worms and I have had 47 good years on board.

However I have no intentions of striking my flag and am opening a new half an acre to build two more big shade houses to raise a thousand more plants to landscape some of these new buildings.

Oh! by the way I counted swimming pools. (804) I'll tell that story some other day. 804, that's a lot.

You know, if you can't fight em!

Daddy green thumb.

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #336) on Sunday, July 27, 2008 - 8:37 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

Special message for Ms. Elaine Scully.

Had you been an agent I would be keeping time with Hemingway.

I have exhusted myself with. Agents, Publishers. and the likes. Ha! I will make no more years knocking on empty doors

So I have pitched in with a charming tattooed lady and we's come up with a fairytale channel that will knock your socks off.

Try it. I promice you a fun read. Over 400 stories. Really!

<http://captaindon.booksyarnsfairytales.com>

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #337) on Sunday, July 27, 2008 - 9:31 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

The leaching field part four and final


Another ‘firecracker’: "The Hotels are the bad guys, they’re so cheap that they can't even attend to their own sewerage .. When the ADE is flowing during a big rain and coming faster than the leaching wells can handle it, garden hose siphons dumping all through the night. Then why not call a spade a spade? It is as it is, and put a permanent pipe directly into the sea. Are these people so stupid they don't even realize that they’re shooting themselves in the foot?"
Lanod looked at the Captain coolly. "Well, Captain, you have not disappointed me." His face was absolutely bland as he said that. He was not exactly prepared for what followed.
Stewart was on his feet and screaming. "Captain, you’ve gone crazy." It was obvious that his fuse had burned down to the powder well. "You, sonovabitch. You sonovabitch. Has everyone in this room gone crazy? You don’t even know what the goddamned hell you’re talking about, any of you." He was breathing heavy, and Christie was becoming concerned. "Our hotels are the mainstay of this island. The largest work force, excluding government. We attract foreign revenue. We are the financial back bone of Bonaire. Yet..." He looked around the room as if seeking assistance. "The hotel business is so goddamned marginal it’s a miracle we can even open our doors in the morning. No profits, means no improvements and no growth."
Stewart was running hot, but his spring was winding down. "Every damn day of our existence we are fighting up that proverbial stream without a paddle. Operating costs so overwhelming it leaves our bookkeepers wringing their hands. And now, out of the blue comes the biologists telling us we have to stop watering our gardens with septic water. Hey! Come on, guys. W.E.B. is the biggest creditor on our books. Sometimes I think the only reason we exist is to pay utilities bills. As far as watering our gardens is concerned, we have paid a fortune for that water. Technically we have only loaned it to the tourist for a while... and I’ll put it where I goddamn well please.
"There is no money for sewage treatment. Hotel sewage, or even residential sewage. If my information is correct, your Great White Prince has been ...been shot down. And that’s a fact. Now new taxes coming faster than mourners to an Irish Wake. Nothing in this world would please us, the hotel industry more than cleaning up our act. But the hard facts are that we are lucky to still be alive. If we are killing some one with our...our Wayy Cee Ade , then we are sorry, but what other recourse have we had."

Christie was starting to get a little worried. Tempers were coming apart like sand castles in a Tsunami, and she worried about her own safety.

Don ambled to his feet, stretched and moved over to the banister. He gripped the rail with both hands, leaning forward into the night, his back to the others as he spoke into the darkness. "If nothing else, I detect a bit of history in each of these opinions. I'm really sorry that the biologists were not present tonight. Always getting their opinion second hand is not my idea. They are some- times a bit much, and they do like to study things forever, but I do believe that their discovery of the waste water effluents in our coastal waters is correct. How could it not be? However, I have yet to be convinced that its presence is as overall damaging as presented."

Then Don turned around facing into the room, resting his butt on the banister, "I find a thin line here that is a little scary. He paused as if considering his next words. You see, I am the inventor of the leaching hole system. There is no question that at that time it accomplished my intent to dispose of excess fecal effluents. Then tolerable ,but today it has become our monster. Nat King Cole sang it so aptly. ‘You always hurt the one you love, the one you love most of all.’ Unwittingly, of course.

"Anyhow I will proceed with my assumptions that some of the shallower corals are indeed imminent danger, whereas the deeper set reefs may or may not suffer from exposure as some believe." He leaned further back on to the railing ,tongued a candy around in his mouth and continued,

"The Captain tells me that there is a bilateral current present in the area from Hato to Pt Verkant. He and I have been watching it for some time now. Either north bound ( on the southern reefs) and surprisingly a southern flow along the reefs in front of the hotel strip, which I will call the pike,," He looked over at Stewart as if to say, ‘Is that OK with you. boss?’ "This is prevailing, not constant, but it’s this current I find most interesting. Thus when the current is moving in a southerly direction it flushes southerly only as far as the yacht basin. I call that the Gonzales strip, then it tends to move toward the center of the channel to be caught up in a mid channel Westerly flow."

He stopped for emphasis. "Sounds confusing doesn’t it? Well, it is...The area of concern is the Santa Barbara boundary to the Gonzales strip. That’s all of Hato and the full length of the Pike. I am told by a WEB engineer that an average flow of 400 metric tons of sweet water is delivered daily to that area. That’s one helluva lot of water for such a small area." Don nodded his head as if counting all the liters.

There is something quite remarkable about all of this and that is one very small company. over the years Has been able to cope with all the BS of a growing community. My hats off to WEB. No one in the last 30 years has ever gone thirsty on this island. and the Captain tells me some pretty spooky stories about the beginning of the water factory. Sinking water barges, Thousands of leaks in existing pipes. Liquid mud coming out of the faucets in Belnem. Every one complains about the cost of water. Wonder what a complain would sound like it there was no water at all.

"Anyhow, 400,000 liters. If the accepted person consumption is 200 liters daily then that means there are 20,000 inhalants residing in that area, Come on boys and girls. lets be realistic. and Its here that are reefs are getting its ass kicked. "

Stewart said,, "Sweet God. I never would have guessed. All that water to such a small area. how is it possible.?"

"Awe, cooed Don, the penny drops,, as you Scott’s say. That was aimed at Stewart . "I don’t know just what the balance of the island uses but Ill bet it ain’t a lot more." Now he was pointing a finger at Stewart. "All those Dutch folks at the other end of the island won’t spend a penny more for water than they have too. Yes?? so that means Hato and the Pike use it all. Americans,, Mr Stewart. for your information use water like there is no tomorrow. It is this end of the island where all the problems start. Not down at Karl’s bar. Flamingo, Bruces place and now the Plaza be sure they are adding their share of Juices but it is the Pike where we want put our attention for now. At the moment there is no concern for the home owner, Even collectively they produce little volume.

Don’s fuse had burned into the powder... These guy were getting serious and Christie was glad for her Yamaha. She had hoped that Don, the more stable personality would maintain direction of the group. Pillows were coming apart and feathers commencing to fly. Don had started all this Wayy Cee stuff and now he was concerned for its direction. Just like the biologist, first the grand plan of things,, only to wind up a subject matter under their own microscope..

"Some facts gentlemen,," Don was up and running again. Adams, your help if I needed,,, okay? Basically every Hotel has the capacity of handling their own solid sewerage ,,, up to a point. Big septic systems. designed for a lot of solids, But think, fellas,, Hotels really don’t have a lota ." and he looked directly at Stewart,, "unless it’s management.. The tourist don’t spend the day sitting on the pot’s , besides Hotel Restaurants don’t really feed that well anyhow. BUT these people use water, and in every conceivable way. Three showers a day ain’t nothing. Water Water Water. they love their water. Know it !!!"

Christie could see Stewart come up on the edge of his chair. There had been a lota flack flying around his head all evening and he was getting annoyed with it.

"Summery guys." and Don looked at Christie "saying ," Getting all this?" she looked down at her recorder, saw it running out of tape and motion for him to wait. ’Changed to a new tape and said. "Your on the roll man,, go for it."

He laughed and continued. " Soooooo, All your guys with the Americans Igloos are the bad guys. Therefore,,, It’s you boys that has’ta start the ball rolling. Forget any thing south of the Gonzalus strip for now, from there north is yours," An after thought, ‘Why don’t we get a reading on the Flamingo, Bowker and the Lighthouse. their Wayy Cee Ade could be washing down on Kralendijk.. The Plaza should be running pretty clean right now simply because there new. Give them another year and read them after some heavy rain.

Almost like a play, thought Christie, Her fears had passed and she found my self really starting to understand and enjoying some of this. The Mountain peak was her responsibility, ,Lanod had said so, and she knew damned well he was right

Adams hung a plastic drawing board on the wall where every one could see it.. then handed Don a pen.

"Think this way," Don said. We want to do a little Indian giving, We got the Wayy Cee Ade from the sea. So its only right for us to give it back.. whence it came ect. However we give it back, packaged in a Polyetheen Buizen tubing. and Polyhetheen by the way is the toughest plastic tubing in the world.

The Captain said to the patio at large. "I don’t think I like the way this is forming. Do I understand you right. a hose filled with,,, with, this Wayy Cee Ade and ,,if one of these hoses breaks. then what.?

Don looked from under shaded brows as the Captain. and thought ‘Asswhole." Okay, if it did there would be a lota effluent sewer water spilling out, and most likely deep .Keep in mind,, effluent is only liquid, no solids. that would soon stop when the pressure dropped .A pressure switch would shut down the pumping system. Sweet jezzes,, we are only talking 35 to 50 psi so not much would get loose. Any how, It’s ALL going in to the sea any how,, so what’s the big deal. (and thought, Ass Whole. all of you is an Ass.)

Adams crossed his arms and pushed back against the wall , as if to escape violence if it occurred.

A Wayy Cee tube Breaking, Not likely. Coming apart yes, but breaking ,, Hey,, I gotta ask you, how is it possible that the Western Hemisphere golden reef protector allow him self to ask such a dumb question. ?"

"Well,,, you know",, said the Captain, "I just thought I’d ask."

Don looked at him in wonderment, "Okay Okay,, no harm done. but of all people I thought you understood pressures and physics more than any one.

Lanod had to shout, "Hey guys, come on let’s cool it. Friends,, Remember we are all friends. it’s the Wayy Cee that’s the bad guy. now let behave." and he pointed to a still empty board.. Is somebody going to draw on this or what"?

Adams had been watching the board and wondering the same thing. Then he reached over taking the pen from Don and with remarkable skill drew a picture of a toilet. Then under it wrote in heavy script. GENESIS. Helped him self to another W/C candy. and eased himself back against the wall.

Stewart moved forward in his chair. "Oke," said Don, "a point made." Then he brought his sights. to bear on Adams . Very good. but why is the lid down?? Okay,, this is my baby, lets have a look at my thinking.

He was aware that Lanod stood up and left the room with out even so much as an " Excuse me."

One,, Keep in mind, it’s is only the excess liquid that we are concerned about. the few solids that exist are either flushed out, eaten, or given to the Beerput wagon. Therefore it is only the Wayy Cee Ade that is getting our attention. Let me point out again,, it’s only the excess effluents that the hotels are dumping is such vast quantities. Rain, Hotels full of winter guest. and presto. Excess Wayy Cee Ade.

They will still water their gardens with it but with a more refined method, A proper functioning irrigation system that waters in the middle of the night. Come on,, let’s give the tourist a break.," and he looked at Adam’s for approval. Wayy Cee Ade the stuff that gardens love. and,,,, is the base for Christie candy.

‘I could kill him.’ thought Christie.

Two, We are all familiar with the reef and its profile. know that little shelf at 127 feet. It ‘s more or less that deep all the way to the double reefs system by Trans World Towers. By the town piers it a shear slope but no big deal. From Hato to Bachelors beach is only a llittle over 3 miles.,, nothing. I could swim it in a couple of hours.

Three, The simplicity of it all is this,, We run a indestructible plastic tube ,, hose if your prefer. Down into the sea from special Wayy Cee Ade holding tanks, Frankly here is the most dangerous area of my entire thinking. The entry point. Heavy wave action is most critical at the shore line. Any how,,one tank for two properties , down to connect with a larger tubing that runs the entire distance from Habitat to Bachelors beach. Any body with a holding tank is welcome, Oh! By the way, the Hotels will irrigate with their own effluent, Reasons later."

Four at Bachelors we bring up the larger tube that's the main line, up to the surface. Under the beach sand and duck it under the highway and off into the flat lands of Lima." Then he looked at Adams. "Okay Rembrant, What say you finish the story. It's more your department than mine now." and he moved back into the darkness of his corner and sat down.

Adams looked around at those watching him. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said. "I still have the owners of Lima to talk with. Okay,, the holding ponds , polyethylene lined, will be located some place mid Lima that in it’s self is easy. In the sun growing thousands of water Hyacinth. Both for controlling the N2.and also to eventually become material for making Compost. No smell for Belnem.

"FIVE Here magic is performed." Adams was warming to the excitement of the idea, Our idea is to use methods of employing fields, ponds, and marshes to produce food and fiber from the waste water in a manner that will protect public health. More over the risk of causing new problems by adding more chemicals for treatment is diminished because most of the treatment is biological. By themselves, plants and sediments remove substantial quantities of the waste constituents from the effluents.

"The water is washed and dried, Clean water can be sold on the spot to 22,000 liters tankers for Ornamental plant growers, and Orchard irrigation, the Hyacinth harvested and ground up for compost for the making of soil. and maybe the owners of Lima just might find them selves in the fruit orchard business." Adams announced that he would be willing to tackle an orchard out there any time. I have a lot more ideas , but they would only bore you.

"The sea has paid no extreme price. a little eight inch hose far below the tourist divers limit. Some attractive holding tanks for Wayy Cee Ade waiting there turn for trans. shipment. Very little pressure would be required as only friction would have to be over come. and a little lift at journeys end. Every body knows how siphons work, and for a hose breaking, Balls. and if it did ,,, it would be a fine exercise for CURO " We are only looking to get the effluence out of the reefs. The prime challenge of our wastewater treatment would be to concentrate and remove pollutants from the effluents.

If they can put down a cable across the Atlantic. Undersea pipe lines from the Black Sea oil fields. And Don can literally lay miles of plastic irrigation hose every month. Then goddamn it we can install a temporary Wayy Cee Ade tubing to get at least one other problem off the reef’s back. This is the breather that we need as we wait patiently for the arrival,,, of the White Prince." (And swallowing looked over at Stewart.). The details on how to build it at our next get together, Okay?

Adams finished and looked over at the Captain. "Well?" any body have questions. The patio was quiet. Then he asked. "Where’s Lanod?"

Christie looked at him in wonderment. " Whose Lanod?" and her eyes sweep the room. Looked into a vacant dark corner, at an empty chair under a plastic parrot, and shrugged.

End and final

Captain Donal Adams Stewart

"


 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #338) on Sunday, July 27, 2008 - 9:38 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

Hey Ms Elaine Scully

Comments please

The last word of this story was candy. It got missed some how. but the challenge was met.

don/

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By elaine sculley (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #349) on Monday, July 28, 2008 - 12:29 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

hey don
started reading ur stories yesterday. read about 20 so far. loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee them. i read the story. no candy thank u.
es
thank u so much for taking the time to put them on the computer.

read ur message to carole b.. it bothered me for a long time when the building on bonaire first started. not the down town but all the housing and hotels. i spoke to people in town and a lot of them felt it would be good for bonaire. there is no way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bonaire will not be able to sustain that kind of tourism. tourist will not put up with not having enough food in restaurants and grocery stores. i've seen it more than once!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

es

 


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