The Great Harbour Cay Golf Cart Adventure

The humans said something about "weather" and docked at a marina. I love marinas. I can hop on and off the boat all day long and walk on land, wonderful land! I can unabashedly stare at other humans. Marinas are great, really, really great.

Great Harbor Cay Marina, Berry Islands, Bahamas
Hastings watching the activity
I was having a truly wonderful time sitting on the bow, wagging my tail at every passerby in case they were delivering us bread, when an adventure was announced. Adventures make me weary. And what will become of the bread?

Mom pulls up to the boat in a very unsafe death trap contraption that is making a horrid noise. They call this death trap "the golf cart".

"You couldn't get me a car, with air conditioning?".

There's no way I would willingly subject myself to this uncivilized mode of conveyance, so I am carried aboard.

The death trap surges backwards. Then it turns awkwardly and too fast. Then it surges forward, pauses, surges, pauses, surges, swerves. I signal my disapproval of these proceedings as loudly and whole heartedly as I can. My confidence is further lowered by the death grip dad has on me. He, also, is terrified.

Mom was born in England, and she claims to be genetically programmed to drive on the left. I don't trust her. The mis-trust deepens as she chants "I love left, drive on the left, left is right"

We drive on the road. OK.
We drive on a sandy road. Not as OK.
We drive on a pot-holed trail, uphill. Things are going downhill.
The death trap on "the road"
"Don't be so upset. We're taking you to the beach, Hastings"

"Upset? I'm not upset. I'm terrified. This cart isn't a vehicle. It's not a mode of transportation. It's a death trap that is shaking apart at the hands of a lunatic. And this isn't a road. I don't want to go the beach. I want to go home and never see a golf cart again."

The beach appears. They claim it's the best thing ever, but it's not. It's just a beach, a beach that we nearly died getting to.
Walking on Shelling Beach, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands
"The Beach"
I led the way back to the death-cart. "Let's get this homeward bound trip over with so we can get some lunch".
Golf Cart on the beach, Great Harbour Cay
The death trap at the beach
"Oh, we're not going home. There's the other beach, then the caves, then the ruins. Then lunch".

Despair fills my heart. Dad takes the wheel. At least the driving should improve. It doesn't. Apparently, the surging, the swerving, the holes - are all "part of the adventure". There's still no air conditioning, in case you were wondering.
Driving a golf cart, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands
Hanging on for dear life
The next beach was OK. I liked being a goat and climbing up the rocks.
Sugar Beach, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands
Sugar Beach
Sugar Beach Caves, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands
Sugar Beach Caves
Sugar Beach Caves, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands
Enjoying a break from the death trap
We then went all the way to the end of the road, and turned around. I am beginning to despair of lunch.

We went to "walk around ruins". There was no refrigerator. No lunch. Pointless.
Sugar Beach Lodge Ruins
Sugar Beach Lodge Ruins - supposedly built by "The Rat Pack" to entertain other cool celebs
Sugar Beach Lodge Ruins
Sugar Beach Lodge ruins
We finally made it to a heavenly place that served lunch! The report came back: no dogs, no take-out. They had creme brulee on the menu, but we couldn't have any. All three of us finally felt the same emotion: complete despondency.
Great Harbour Cay Road, Berry Islands
Great Harbour Cay Road
We found a cafe and had $13 cheeseburgers and fries. Because I was at death's door, the humans gave me the last bite of pure burger and cheese and spared me the tomatoes, onions, lettuce, mayo and ketchup that seemed to delight them so. Seriously, vile lettuce is a novelty to them. I didn't get a large enough portion to make me forget the horrors of the day though.

Dear reader, you have not heard the worst. Because I was, against my will, removed from my bread lookout post, the bread was given to others, but not to us. I hate adventures!

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  1. Poor, Hastings. Don't you people know that it's bread first, bread crumbs second and adventures dead last? Hang in there, buddy. I'm sure it'll get better.

    Stephanie @ SV CAMBRIA

  2. Did you at least get to swim, Hastings? It sounds like a terrible adventure, but, know one thing, as long as the golf cart does not flip, it could be worse. I am speaking from experience.

    1. No, there was no swimming, but that's OK because I don't actually like swimming. Doggie paddle is un-gentlemanly. A flipping golf cart? Thank goodness I didn't know that was a possibility! I don't know how we avoided that fate - my humans are terrible golf cart drivers. (Also, please tell us more about the flipping golf cart!)

    2. It happened during a wedding in North Captiva Island, Florida, in November 2007. You know, two male friends from college are driving this cart and they are goofing off. I am the well-behaved passenger, while the drunk guys are messing about with the wheel of the cart. They drive on the higher edge of the path, touch the fence with one wheel and before anyone realizes it, the cart is upside down and I am underneath it screaming in pain. The metal frame had fallen on my left ear. Everyone was in panic. They pulled the cart off me. Luckily, the only damage was some cartelidge inside my ear that shattered. If that cart would have fallen an inch more to the left, on my temple, I might have been dead. Yeah... golf carts. Or, should I say stupid guys?

  3. Thanks for the laugh this morning, Hastings :-) What a terrible adventure your humans took you on. Bad humans.

    1. It was terrible. This morning I noticed they have started a "foodstuffs we are low on" list. Things just keep getting worse!


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