At the intertidal zone on the north shore of St. Croix, located on the west edge of Annaly Bay, rests a tidal pool.
Access to this rock formation where saltwater deposits pool together, separate from the sea, is not easy, though rather simple: You either hike the 2.7 miles through dense rainforest on a very narrow path that snakes along the mountain and cliffside, or take an SUV equipped with four-wheel drive down a separate path. Along that thin pathway in the thick forest you will hear leaves rustling all around you, as if something is clawing its way up, or tumbling down the mountain. At first, you will think “What on earth is that? And how many of those ‘whats’ are out there?” Eventually – inevitably – as you are studying the ground for sure footing you will see something roll in front of you from the slopes above. Upon closer inspection you will discover the source of this near ubiquitous rustling are thousands of hermit crabs rolling down the mountain; how they got up there in the first place is a mystery in of itself, much like Hemingway’s leopard in “The Snows of Kilimanjaro.”
Every now and again you will ascend near vertical inclines, rewarded by a brief clearing of the trees where you can peek out over the cliff and gaze upon a great blue and turquoise frontier. An aquatic masterpiece that puts any question of a loving, intelligent creator to rest.
As you reach the end of the trail, you encounter a dirt road for vehicle access. Hang a right off the trail and about 300 yards later you come to Annaly Bay, a beach comprised of smooth rocks. On your right there is more thick forest. On your left is the ingress to the tidal pools. Then, you scale the gargantuan and jagged formations, with exceedingly calculated steps, gauging the tide as the violent waves come in and out. Rendering a small window of time when you may place and secure your next step as you round the proverbial immovable object towering over the vast unstoppable aquatic force. One misstep and you may not die, but you will certainly endure grave injury.
Once through the rite of passage all must undertake to purchase entry to this gorgeous natural phenomenon, behold — your reward. A pool of providence, sequestered within ferocious tides and unforgiving mineral structures. Much like heaven, our ultimate reward, if we be blessed in deeds, it is only reached by enduring harsh terrestrial conditions, traversing what W.B. Yeats called this “bestial floor.”
Through all trails of difficulty lay at the end a glimpse of providential promise. Though the terrain be trying, the final destination be worth every thoughtful step.
Follow Ernest Hemingway’s exploits on the Bahamian island of Bimini from 1935 to 1937, the very moment in time when the International Game Fish Association (under the author’s co-leadership) was emerging. Covers Hemingway’s role in the formation of the IGFA, his underappreciated seminal writing about competitive saltwater angling when the sport was still in its infancy, the amazing fishing he enjoyed on the island, and the way all of these experiences translated into the composition of his posthumous novel Islands in the Stream.
This is the only book on this period in Hemingway’s life and reveals unexpected dimensions to the Hemingway portrait that deserve attention, including his surprising humor, his advanced conservationist views several decades before the environmental movement even began, and his egalitarian ideas about his contemporary female counterparts in the big-game fishing world—challenging the usual portrait of Hemingway as a chauvinist with no personal rules, boundaries, or conscience. Includes beautiful vintage photographs of 1930s Bimini that have never been published in book form. Buy Now
