The wind off the Indian Ocean was blowing hot and steady, whipping the sweat fro
The wind off the Indian Ocean was blowing hot and steady, whipping the sweat from my skin too fast for it to have any cooling effect whatsoever against the unremittingly fierce sun. I paused for a while under the shade of a spiny tree to pour water, warm from the bottle, over my head and down my neck to look out over the coral flats, where I hoped to find signs of fish moving. Back along the trail, a mile or so away, the trusty old bicycle that had brought me on a bruising ride across the island of DesRoches, was of no use now on soft white sand. Right out to sea, far beyond the edge of the reef and turquoise sandy patches, three frigate birds circled with malicious intent, no doubt with better vision than mine, to spot bait fish, driven up to the surface by huge predators.