The Turtle and Shark Lodge

The road to the Turtle and Shark Lodge would make the surface of the moon seem like a smooth ride. After several minutes of bouncing along under the thick jungle canopy, we arrived. The spontaneous extension of a Sunday afternoon drive, we had no intention of making a reservation -- we were just exploring, checking things out.  The best air conditioning on the island, it seems, is in the minivan we are borrowing, so car rides in the afternoon are a favorite.

The Lodge is perched on the edge of a cliff. And beyond the black cliffs, turquoise water stretching on for what seems like infinity. What is on the other side of all that water anyway? Antarctica I guess, unless you happen to veer a little to the west and hit Tonga. And to the north, on the other side of the island? Nothing until you hit that sticky-outy tail part of Alaska and then the Arctic Ocean. When I think about that I feel very isolated and vulnerable. So I try not to think about it.

Anyway, we parked the car in what looked like a parking spot at the Lodge. There weren't any other cars. The kids were bouncing off the seats and the air conditioning, turned down to 60 degrees, was actually starting to feel too cold. We decided to get out, stretch our legs, and let the sun sap some of the kids' energy (could it be that because Helen and I are taller and therefore closer to the sun that it drains our energy faster than the kids'? Not likely, but it definitely does have a greater effect on us for some reason).

After crossing a small, well kept field, and what turned out to be a putting green, we came to a little platform surrounded by a railing overlooking the ocean. This is nice, we thought, and then we heard a hiss, like a dragon, coming up from the rocks far below. Then a mist from the caverns.

So this must be how stories about things like sea monsters and puff the magic dragon got started (well not puff the magic dragon, which reminds me, some people at the end of our street have a very strange farming operation going on. Hum). Anyway, after the puff -- a roar. 

And then kapow, water shooting up everywhere. This made the other blow holes seem like sissy impersonators, like going to a preseason WNBA game after watching Dirk Nowitzki in the finals.

 After seeing that, of course my wife and kids wanted to go down the scary looking stairs with no handrail to get a closer look. Didn't seem like a good idea to me, but as you can see...

Well, no one got swept out to sea, thank goodness, but I had no idea of the real danger we were in. When we came back up we decided to have a look around the rest of the place. With a blowhole that awesome, surely there would be other cool things to see. We found a tennis court but not much else. My wife had the good idea to get a brochure or something from the front office -- perhaps we could come here for an anniversary or something. The front office looked closed. Not unusual for a Sunday in Samoa. As we turned to go back to the car, we were met by a barefoot Samoan. 

"Can I help you?" he asked and it wasn't one of those are-you-looking-for-a-toilet-or-the-vending-machines can I help yous, it was more like a what-are-you-doing-here kind of can I help yous. 

"Just looking around. It is very beautiful," I said. "I hope that's okay." 

His eyes darted, his weight shifted from one foot to the other. 

"Where did you go?" he asked. 

"Just down to the blowhole, looked around a little."

"You should make an appointment first," he said. 

I explained that we were just out for a drive, saw the signs for the lodge and decided to drive down and see it. We thought we might spend a night there some time. His demeanor eased up a little, but then we heard them. Barking from around the corner and then a rottweiler and his two German Shepherd looking pals. 

"It's just that," the man explained, "if I know people are coming, I lock up the dogs."

"I see," I said.

"They don't like kids," he said. 

He shouted at the snarling dogs and told us he would walk us to our car. I'm not exaggerating or employing a common phrase casually when I say that I believe it was divine intervention that saved us from those dogs. If they had come upon us before the Lodge owner was there, I am sure one or maybe even all of us would have been mauled. 

As we drove away, the dogs nipped at the car. The rottweiler even threw himself into the side of the car. What if he bites a tire? Images of a certain scene from Jurassic Park crowded rational thoughts out of my mind. Forget the potholes, I thought, and sped down the road, leaving the savage animals behind.