Not every quest involves a chalice or a ring.
Some quests -- the best -- are made merely for the adventure.
With that goal in mind --no Camelot, no Mordor -- Professor Jiggs and I mounted the red steed and sallied forth into Melaque.
The day was to be a simple one. A little walk along the bay. And a day at the beach.
Thus do the great tales begin. The ordinary. The mundane. Overturned for the sake of adventure.
Euclld could have used the Bay of Navidad to teach geometry. It is as close to a half circle as you will find in nature. At the far west end of the bay is a point punctuated with rocks that birds love and sailors dread.
But tourists have much more in common with birds. They -- tourists, that is -- flock to see the rocks -- because they make great vacation photographs.
Knowing that, the town fathers caused a stone pathway to be built from the end of town to the end of the bay. It is a pleasant walk. I have taken it several times.
And I thought Jiggs would like to stretch his legs before the temperature rose too high.
Jiggs had his own notions, though. He looked at the ruined restaurant that guards the entrance to the malecón, and knew that adventures require indirect approaches.
Instead of heading for the malecón, he trotted back toward town, then looped back across a shaky pedestrian bridge, using the cover of the cliffs just in case unfriendly eyes were perched in the ruin.
He had been walking for almost a half hour in the sun, and I was positive our adventure was going to end right there.
But not Jiggs. He threaded his way through the entryway, and walked, and walked, and walked. Making it all the way to the stairs at the end of the malecón.
Like any tourist (or questmaster), he wanted his achievement immortalized. So, here it is.
And he was not done. Having slain the dragon or rescued the princess or whatever it was he thought he had done, he stopped and schmoozed with a group of lubricated fishermen and their very sober dogs.
The tales he told. And the praise he received. The return of Quetzalcoatl would have paled in comparison.
After that, a day at the beach would have been not only anticlimactic; it would have been almost sacrilegious.
So, home I went with my golden boy, where even tonight he dreams of evil that will not walk the earth because of his brave deeds.
As for me, it was simply great to get away from the house to see a bit more of this community.
And to share in my dog's overly-active imagination.
Some quests -- the best -- are made merely for the adventure.
With that goal in mind --no Camelot, no Mordor -- Professor Jiggs and I mounted the red steed and sallied forth into Melaque.
The day was to be a simple one. A little walk along the bay. And a day at the beach.
Thus do the great tales begin. The ordinary. The mundane. Overturned for the sake of adventure.
Euclld could have used the Bay of Navidad to teach geometry. It is as close to a half circle as you will find in nature. At the far west end of the bay is a point punctuated with rocks that birds love and sailors dread.
But tourists have much more in common with birds. They -- tourists, that is -- flock to see the rocks -- because they make great vacation photographs.
Knowing that, the town fathers caused a stone pathway to be built from the end of town to the end of the bay. It is a pleasant walk. I have taken it several times.
And I thought Jiggs would like to stretch his legs before the temperature rose too high.
Jiggs had his own notions, though. He looked at the ruined restaurant that guards the entrance to the malecón, and knew that adventures require indirect approaches.
Instead of heading for the malecón, he trotted back toward town, then looped back across a shaky pedestrian bridge, using the cover of the cliffs just in case unfriendly eyes were perched in the ruin.
He had been walking for almost a half hour in the sun, and I was positive our adventure was going to end right there.
But not Jiggs. He threaded his way through the entryway, and walked, and walked, and walked. Making it all the way to the stairs at the end of the malecón.
Like any tourist (or questmaster), he wanted his achievement immortalized. So, here it is.
And he was not done. Having slain the dragon or rescued the princess or whatever it was he thought he had done, he stopped and schmoozed with a group of lubricated fishermen and their very sober dogs.
The tales he told. And the praise he received. The return of Quetzalcoatl would have paled in comparison.
After that, a day at the beach would have been not only anticlimactic; it would have been almost sacrilegious.
So, home I went with my golden boy, where even tonight he dreams of evil that will not walk the earth because of his brave deeds.
As for me, it was simply great to get away from the house to see a bit more of this community.
And to share in my dog's overly-active imagination.
