One lazy Saturday, Kim and I found our way to Esperanza beach, where we swam and sunbathed and practiced do-nothing. I was floating on my back when I heard a familiar voice from the shore.
"What are you doing, man?" asked Abe, seated next to his rental kayaks, a multicolored plastic armada.
"Doing?" I pondered, still hazy from my broken reverie. "Doing... nothing."
He considered this. "It's been slow," he stated. "Why don't you take a kayak to the cayo?"
Within moments, I was seated at the stern of a green two-person kayak, taking the first strokes towards Cayo Afuera. Kim occupied the bow, guiding us towards the tiny island.
We left the kayak on a shell-strewn beach, provisioned ourselves, and began another journey.
A helpful sign informed us that while we cannot camp or build fires, we are permitted to hike, take pictures and snowmobile.
This was not our first trip to the Cayo. On a half-dozen other occasions, we've made the swim and traversed the coral shores with bare feet, which limited our range.
Sandals at our feet, progress would not be impeded by sharp rocks.
We passed this rock marked with a modern petroglyph in weathered spraypaint. Were ancient Taino petroglyphs (rock carvings) just graffiti of their times?
It's worth mentioning the rocks of Cayo Afuera. The persistent waves slowly erode the island, sending great boulders spilling into the sea and revealing the rock layers from past epochs.
Most layers are sedimentary limestone; rocks formed from other rocks. Different layers hold volcanic sediment or compacted fossils and mud. Chalky, sandy layers indicate great concentrations of long-dead marine life.
It's easy to spend an epoch of your own pondering the cliffs, imagining life in Vieques over the past hundred million years.
But at some point, you have to stop pondering and keep walking. The boulders and sea cliffs aren't going to climb themselves.
From the top of Cayo Afuera, there's nowhere to go but down...