Tuesday, April 10, 2012
We moved on along the coast in search of the Blow Hole but never found it. Instead we ended up following another long dirt road through a cactus forest, this with the occasional house surrounded by junk cars. One even had a tipped over cement truck in the yard. Eventually there wee no more houses. We encountered several enormous dump trucks coming from the opposite direction filled with coral rock boulders. Oddly we passed a tiny, brightly painted piece of green wood about 8 inches long laying on the ground on the side of the road that said “Golf.” We kept going. Eventually we came out on a desolate plain with a slight dirt track which we followed. We eventually came to the coast, which was lined with mountainous piles of enormous pieces of broken coral which a big piece of heavy equipment was pushing around. Continuing on the track, scattering herds of goats, we came upon what else but a golf course, just as the sign had said. There were no people there, no grass either really. Just thinly scattered goats and a few donkeys, tattered yellow flags with numbers on them flapping in the breeze and pieces of coral painted red saying “Par 7” and the like.
We headed back. We stopped at what we thought might be a goat farm to ask directions. It turned out to be a chicken farm. Fortunately we did not get out of the car as three vicious dogs came running out from under the fence snarling and barking. Never having found the Blow Hole we headed back to town for lunch.