I'm not even going to write about a potential intake in pounds. Pounds as in extra calories. Instead I'll inspire you with Chocolate. Warm melt on your fingers Chocolate. Wrapped in layers upon layers of buttery croissant type of light pastry dough? à la française, bien sur.



A photo, Just for added swoon effect, to enhance the idea. This is what was delivered to our home, via superfast dinghy, at 07:25 this very sunny and muggy hot morning. It was just out of the oven crispy warm, the brown paper bag dripping with ooey gooey butter-y goodness, the sweet smells of deliciousness wafting from its depths.

I probably could've had a better photo but I was trying to save it from being devoured...

"Dave, stop..." I slapped his hand away, "I need a picture...!"

When you start off a morning with this, how can you not love life?? Hmm??

Our life held immediate plans for a hike on Îlet à Cabrit, one of the 9 islands of Les Saintes, Guadeloupe. After that decadence of a breakfast (with a coffee, of course!) it was time to walk off the calories.

We dinghied ashore and as the dock didn't look too inviting,



and we opted to drag Quahog ashore and lock her to a tree,



dusted our sandy toes off, got the socks and runners on, and then looked around.



A seemingly abandoned shack in the shade of the trees, selling rows upon rows of these,



just leave 10E in the jar on the ground and grab the one you want.

We followed the path for awhile,



but it quickly dissolved and disappeared into a pebbly and sandy terrain of nothingness, and we were left clambering over pebbles and boulders and rocks, the dryness and sandy dust making it difficult to get a grasp, however always, but always keeping an eye on the Yellow Squiggles on the Rocks. With bright yellow lines that showed us the direction to go,



turn here,



and zig-zag here.



"Didn't the intrepid adventurers encounter the Wicked Witch of the West as they travelled on the famous Yellow Brick road?" I asked of Dave, but he was way ahead of me and didn't hear me. Perhaps that's a good thing? However, I glanced overhead just to make sure there were no flying monkeys soaring about.

It's nice when the path of life ahead of you has arrows telling you where to go (and even better, how to get there!!), and as with all paths there were added challenges. Like strewn haphazardly about, everywhere, were these OMGoodness thorny cacti making it doubly difficult as you certainly watched which way you stepped your foot.

Dave certainly can attest to the fact that these thorns go through running shoes.



as he unconsciously yelped and swore at them every time he saw one, and let me assure you, he was keeping both eyes open and it was a constant barrage of mutterings!

Without some (ok much) huffing and puffing (no more pain au chocolat for us!!), we reached the top,



of one of the three of Îlet à Cabrit's peaks. According to the map they are Pointe à Cabrit on the West, Pointe Sable in the South and Pointe Bombarde in the East.

The views were impressive and breathtaking, n'est ce pas? Being the ever curious gal, my eyes wandered to not only the ruins that had been ravaged by time (and I have no idea what this structure built at this height, could've been),



but to the sights and sounds of scurries underfoot,



thankfully, no flying monkeys !!

Actually Îlet à Cabrit is loosely translated as Goat Island,



and true to its name, this small piece of island had more than its fair share of them scampering about, weary of us intruders on their home turf. Some were unbothered, just laying around in the hot, hot heat,



and just zoom in and look at that smile, doesn't it make you want to do the same?

Not much greenery around for them to eat on this dry, arid piece of island.



Having climbed one peak, we made our way back down, and across the Îlet and back up another hill, where we had an X-Files type of moment... A mysterious nest in the trees,



and what kind of alien life form is this?



France built a fort here, back in the late 1700's, originally called Fort de la Reine, which was later renamed Fort Joséphine. Along with Fort Napoléon (on the mainland) it helped defend the islands. The British occupied Les Saintes until the early 1800's, and when the land was returned to the French Fort Joséphine became a penitentiary. It was all destroyed by a hurricane in 1865.

We walked through Fort Joséphine as it's left today, the many abandoned buildings,



a swinging bed in the shade of the tree,



bags of dried cement



and sometimes its best not to know, right?



(I glanced surreptitiously overhead, just in case), and then mosied on over to the window with a view,



to another moment of what on earth are these? Witches brooms perhaps?



"See Dave..." I exclaimed, "I told you there were flying monkeys overhead". He looked at me like I had two heads, but then, in all honesty, he hadn't been part of any of that flying monkey business !!



Other than the sounds of the birds, and the goats, only this little guy was preoccupied with our presence,



and we left him to his own devices as we started our journey back,



where Banyan was waiting to greet us with something cold and refreshing!