Because They're Heroes in a Half-Shell

Grand Cayman! Getting up early! Yes, folks, it’s our first port day.

We woke up, grabbed some quick sustenance from the breakfast buffet on Deck 9, then proceeded quickly to the bowels of the ship to board a tender for our short boat ride to the port. It was a beautiful day to be outside—the type of day that makes you forget that wherever it was that you came from it was cold and January.

We arrived on shore, found our excursion group, and made our way to the bus for our ride out to the Turtle Farm. We drove through Hell on the way out to the farm. No really, Hell exists and it’s on Grand Cayman. It has a post office and everything. We made our way out of Hell and proceeded to the Turtle Farm.

Our first stop was the Breeding Pond. Boys, if you want good odds, here’s your place. There are 400 turtles in here, ranging from 200-700 lbs. each. The ratio of females to males is 3:1. The unfortunate part? If a male isn’t a good, um, breeder, the ladies remember it and he’s marked for life. So, make a good impression, guys! How YOU doin’?

After the Breeding Pond, we moved to the tanks with the babies. We got to hold some Wee, Not So Wee, and Friggin’ Huge turtles. In actuality, we started with the year-old turtles, moved to the eighteen-month-old turtles, and then held a two-week-old turtle. Whoa!





Post-cute turtle holding, we snorkled in a man-made lagoony thing. With some small-ish turtles. Pretty sweet. Well, once I got past the whole, “You expect me to breathe while my face is under water? Are you nuts? I’ll drown!” thing. There were colorful fish, turtles to chase, and a glass wall between us and the “predator tank” full of nice, peaceful animals like sharks and squid.

We finished snorkeling, got dried off, and left to head back to the port area. A commercial area was just beyond the port, so we set off to walk around and take in some sights. The square commemorating war heroes was quite nearby, as was a post office proclaiming Grand Cayman’s allegiance to Great Britain. God Save the Queen!

Oh, and we found the Colonel eyeing his next victim at the local Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Our bus driver out to the Turtle Farm told us all kinds of tidbits about the island, including the low unemployment rate (emphasizing that people were only really unemployed if they wanted to be unemployed) and the fact that all beachfront property was public—no private owner could cut someone off from the beach. The only way you could own beachfront property, he wryly stated, was to be deceased, since the cemeteries were all located on that prized beachfront property.

We made it back onto the boat in time to win trivia again that afternoon! Another Ship on a Stick! Then dinner and a relaxing evening to get ready for the next day’s port: Isla Roatan.