A solo walk from South Caicos Over Land to Providenciales.

By John Galleymore ~ Photos by Steve Passmore, Provo Pictures

“Because it’s there . . .” was the reply given by George Mallory in the 1920s, when asked why he wanted to be the first to climb Mt. Everest. That same answer could (and has been) used for almost anyone questioning the seemingly impossible, or indeed plain crazy adventures undertaken by man. In all honesty, it could, and should, be translated into “Because I want to be first,” as all adventurers and explorers have that same selfish streak. That’s what drives us.

When I first thought about undertaking the long solo and unsupported walk from South Caicos to Providenciales, I have to confess it was for purely personal reasons. Although it makes sense that past generations must have walked this route, this would be the first time it would be documented. As the idea developed it became apparent that the event could be used to raise funds for local charities, increase awareness of the outer islands, and give a glimpse of the hardship of life in a bygone era. So, with a lot of help from Claire Parrish at Times Publications/Tradewinds Radio, some very generous sponsors, and a very understanding (yet notably worried) wife, February 11, 2015 was set as the start of a four night/five day adventure of a lifetime.

Day one (16 miles)

SUNRISE . . . at Providenciales International Airport. The cleaners are still mopping but otherwise the place is deserted. I have arrived with nearly 100 pounds of kit packed into my Army Bergan and “hand luggage” of spare water and food. Next to arrive is Steve Passmore of Provo Pictures, who will be photographing, followed by Ralston Humble of WIV-4, who will be filming, key moments of the trip.

We are here to catch a private charter to South Caicos, kindly provided by Caicos Express Airways. Operations Manager Stephane Menelas has pulled out all the stops to make this happen, including having the airport on South open early to let us land!

We check in all our kit, supplies, and camera equipment and wait for departure. On the short walk to the plane, the sun is gently rising and I feel the four of us should be walking in slow motion across the runway to the sound of some Hollywood movie soundtrack. Stephane has all the cargo holds opened so we can see our kit is in place. All is good and it’s time to roll.

We bank over Grace Bay as our pilot caresses the controls and lifts us ever so gently skyward. Steve and Ralston shoot and film the passing scenery while I mentally prepare for the challenge ahead.

In no time at all we are approaching South Caicos. It’s such a short hop from Provo, it’s a wonder more people don’t visit. I get my first glimpse of the tip of South and the nearby cays and water crossings that I will soon be facing. A gentle bump as we land brings back the reality that we are here and this is actually happening!

A gleaming white Land Rover with a smiling Butch Clare at the wheel is there to meet us. It’s a generous courtesy ride compliments of the Sailrock development that will get us to the official start in no time at all. On the short ride, Butch tells me about Sailrock and how this private villa/resort development will benefit the local economy. It’s already well under construction and ahead of schedule. He points out the progress so far and it does not distract from the rugged beauty of this island. Future owners and guests will be truly blessed to be able to live here.

We are soon at the tip of the island and Steve, Ralston, and I are left alone. We set about our personal sets of kit: Steve’s consists of lenses and a drone, Ralston’s is movie camera and tripod and mine is water, food, and a bright blue cooler! I have chosen this small inflatable cooler to act as a raft for my backpack for the water crossings. I will swim alongside it. And after some pictures, filming, and a lot of puff to inflate my raft, it’s time to go!

I set off into the shallow inlet and actually head away from the tip of Plandon Cay, which is my first stop. As the tide is flowing out through the narrow cut into the ocean, it’s important I make enough headway so that the tide carries me toward my goal, not past it! After some walking in chest-deep water I put on my fins and launch into the deep, fast-flowing channel and in a few minutes I land at the tip of Plandon Cay. The beach I was headed for is actually a huge pile of sun-bleached conch shells so I head for some shallow water to rest and sort my kit.

I hoist my pack onto my back and put my “belt kit” (spare water, etc.) into the raft and pull it through the shallows. After a few minutes a small plane comes in very low and I realize it’s the Caicos Express pilot on his return to Provo, giving Steve and Ralston a fly-by! I wave vigorously and walk on as they level off and fly away.

At the end of Plandon Cay is a large rock atop of which is an osprey nest. I don’t believe it has a name but it is near my next target — Middle Creek Cay. I am halfway along Plandon when I spy an old wreck about 1,000 yards “inland,” resting in the channel. The tide is flowing fast out to sea so I wade almost to the wreck and again launch into the channel, kicking ferociously with my fins. Some 20 minutes later I am edging closer, but more importantly, past the “Rock” and onto Middle Creek Cay. I clamber up the hill to take in the 360º views and the amazingly calm ocean.

I walk the length of Middle Creek Cay without incident and am soon faced with another channel. (This is why I have stayed in my “wet kit” to avoid constantly changing clothes.) The channel to McCartney Cay is fairly easy but I still take the precaution of “horseshoeing” in a curve so the tide carries me to where I want to be.

I walk and wade along the edge of McCartney Cay. The rocks are stunning and it gives me a taste to return some time and enjoy it fully. Ospreys fly overhead, while large iguanas bask on sun warmed rocks.

I am behind schedule but enjoying the tranquility. The sun is shining; the ocean like a mill pond. I soon find myself at a small inlet. It’s midafternoon and I’m about to plant my feet on East Caicos!

After a short lunch, hot drink, and check-in by satellite phone it’s time to change into “dry kit” which is my walking kit. Now donning boots, long pants, and shirt, I can make good progress over the rocks and brush along the coastline. I have attached my “belt kit,” two pouches on my belt holding all my need-to-get-to-items such as water, snacks, camera, phone, hydration tablets, etc. This means I can replenish on the go without the need to remove my pack (which is not easy to get on and off!)

I set up off the coastline; the sea is still dead calm and there is little wind. I find myself having to zig-zag between walking the rocks along the coast and the few donkey trails I find inland. It’s exhausting work. I find an old structure which looks like a cattle pen and stop for a rest.

I take stock of my water. I have yet to drink anywhere near my daily allowance, but this is due to the time spent in the water. The next few days walking will be another story. I start to collect water bottles from the beach. These discarded, half-empty bottles will supplement my supply. Some are very old and the plastic is brittle so are ignored. Others seem fine so I harvest these eagerly. This water will assist in cooking, heating my food (while being boiled in the process), then being used for a hot drink.

The day is drawing to a close and I am behind schedule. It’s unlikely I will make my planned night stop which is Drum Point. The sand here is very deep and soft and given the amount of water crossings I have done it’s no wonder I have not covered the miles I had hoped to. I push on for a short time after sunset but don’t want to risk a twisted knee or similar, so I stop above the high tide line to set up camp.

Thirty seconds! That’s all it takes after putting on my head-torch before I am attacked by swarms of sand flies and other similar nasty bugs! I heave the pack off my back and the blood rushes back into my aching muscles; I feel I could lay here and sleep for a week! I decide to hang my torch in a nearby bush and set up camp by means of a cylume stick — the soft green glow give me enough light to work by, but does not attract the bugs who are happily attacking my torch 30 yards away.

There is little wind and the sea is calm. I eat under the clearest of starry skies. Despite my tiredness, this beats the finest restaurants in the world! I slip into my tent, sip some water and, despite a brief thunderstorm, I sleep like a baby.

Day two (24 miles)

I awake to another calm but overcast day. Satellite comms tell of huge swells about to hit the TCI so I am happy to be walking and not swimming the cays! Breakfast is bacon and beans mixed with whatever bugs are swarming around me! (Protein is protein, right?) I break camp, ensure I have left nothing, and heave the pack onto my back. Although I have eaten two meals and had two bottles of water why does it feel no lighter?

I set off again and I can feel the heat of the sun already. I fear it will be a long, hot day (and will be proved right.) I soon make Drum Point and kick myself for not pushing on into last night. But I am still injury free so must not complain. I still marvel at the utter beauty and remoteness here and even my burning shoulders from the pack cannot diminish my spirit today.

To my right the sea is calm but huge breakers now crash on the reef. I decide to climb the ridge inland to my left and I am rewarded with a gorgeous sight of inland lakes teeming with flamingos. I sit, rest, and take in the stunning scenery.

Time to push on. I head back and continue to switch between donkey trails and the coast path. With no wind and intense walking I find myself sipping more and more water. I continue to seek out whatever I can find and am rewarded with a bizarre sight — a beached construction hard-hat full of last night’s rainfall! I eagerly drink it, leaving only a little sand in the bottom and walk on refreshed.

My (very ambitious) plan is to get off East today and try for Middle Caicos. It will be tough as I am struggling between ironshore, deep sand, and donkey tracks that lead me off route. It’s tough going and I am still hoisting 90 pounds and trying to stick to my schedule of a sip of water every 30 minutes. Candy bars and Power-Gels give me a kick, but it’s only a brief respite from the pain in my back, shoulders, and now ankle. I feel for the generations of Islanders who used to regularly make walks like this in search for food and water, probably on a daily basis.

The huge swells out to sea are now coming ashore. It’s bad enough that the beach is almost at a 45-foot gradient, but now huge waves break right up to the high tide line so walking the beach is impossible. It’s back fighting through the meandering donkey trails and thick bush. I often head inland up to the ridge; I am rewarded with great views but also a reminder of how far I have to go. I find some old ruins and stop for a rest but am constantly aware that the day is getting on and I still have a long way to go.

Just before I hit Lorimers Point, a small headland on East Caicos, I find a pool of “fresh” water and eagerly drink through my filter straw. It’s cold, fresh, and gives me the lift I need. It’s so important that I don’t start “using” the next day’s water ahead of schedule — that will spell disaster.

The sun is falling as I round the point and head down the coast of East Caicos, home to the Jacksonville ruins. I see many old structures but these will be investigated another day; for now, I must push on before dark. Despite the breakers on the reef which I guess are close to 50 feet high, the inlet between East and Joe Grant Cay is calm so I decide to go into the water early.

I get into my wet kit, inflate the raft, and am soon wading between small breakers and heading for the line of casaurina trees which stand along the beach. As I hit sand, the sun is very low. It’s obvious Middle Caicos is out of the equation for tonight but there is still a chance to make the north beach of Joe Grant Cay to give me a good start in the morning.

Decisions . . . to go round the bluff and past the ruins or through the middle of the cay? I don’t have much time so I decide on the shortest route of through the bush. It is one I will regret. At first I find a trail and I stay in my beach shoes and carry the raft. My GPS tells me it’s only 1/2 mile across so should not take too long. The sun is setting and my pack is burning into my back after ten hours of walking. Then the trail suddenly ends. I start pushing through the bush but it’s getting thicker as I go. I have to carry the raft on my head to avoid damaging it on the sharp branches, but it’s still very slow going. It’s almost dusk now so I stop to put on my boots, don my GoreTex suit to protect me from the bush, and deflate the raft. It’s now I notice the GPS had died on me — here I am in failing light and surrounded on all sides my thick, almost impenetrable, bush. Need to think quickly!

I know from my pace and time that I must have covered about 500 hundred yards, so it’s better to push on than risk going back. I need a navigation marker, and quickly. Looking skywards, the sun has set enough for the stars to make an appearance. I see what must be Venus ahead of me and almost directly behind I guess is Jupiter, both shining brightly enough to keep me on track.

I push on, constantly falling and tripping until I hit a small clearing, inexplicably covered in grass. As I stop to rest I hear waves gently breaking so I know I am close. That’s enough for tonight so I set up camp, still wearing my GoreTex suit to keep the bugs at bay, and sip what remains of my daily water ration. I eat my rations cold as I have little water to cook with. I have water rations but refuse to be tempted to drink ahead of schedule. I also have an emergency canteen of water on my belt, but this is only for a life-or-death situation and although I am parched, I’m not dying yet! As I settle in for what is a long, miserable, and thirsty night, I again think of the early Islanders who must have gone through this same situation time and time again.

Day three (29 miles)

I awake, break camp, and treat myself to a hot breakfast with the first of today’s water ration. I am in better spirits and push on through the last of the bush. I can see casaurina trees ahead which I know favor the beach line. Very soon I burst onto the beach. I decide to indulge in a swim, and soon the calm waters are nursing my cuts and bruises from the previous day. I also notice skin starting to detach from my feet so I dress, tape up my feet, and push onto Wild Cow Run beach. Today will be a LONG day!

I finally come ashore on Middle Caicos. Already the sun is climbing, closely followed by the temperature. I rest amongst the pines and set about fixing the GPS. I have a paper map but never like to rely on one method alone. After fresh batteries and some cleaning, the unit is functioning again and I set off along the sand road which will take me round to Haulover Point.

A few miles down the road I stop to check the map and see I have two choices — either continue as I am and walk the eight miles or so to Lorimers or swim across the Lorimers inlet to the dock. I choose to swim! The water is calm and fairly shallow so the crossing is uneventful. It’s a relief to have the pack off my back for a while too.

I once spoke to Director of the National Trust Ethlyn Gibbs who told me her father used to cross this water regularly, in the same manner, and head for East Caicos in search of cattle. Once again I am reminded that an adventure for me is merely replicating the daily lives of generations past. I asked her what he did for water and she explained a once common technique for harvesting rainwater by use of rock placement that stopped the water being drunk by cattle or other animals. It seems sad that such great skills and traditions have been lost very quickly.

I pull ashore at Lorimers dock, much to the astonishment of a local guy who has been watching me with great curiosity! His name is Desmond and although he runs My Dee’s Restaurant in Bottle Creek, he has made the long drive to Lorimers to hook up with a fishing buddy.

I use the shelter of the dock to lay out all my kit. Now its evaluation time — what, if anything can go? I lay out what needs to be dried and set about tending to my feet. Desmond tries not to stare in astonishment as I pull a scalpel from my trauma kit and start to burst blisters and cut away dead skin from my feet. We are soon chatting about everything from politics and the weather to lobsters as I continue to kit-check my equipment and tend to my feet. I could sit here all day chatting to this great guy but must push on, as I am way behind schedule.

I finally leave at 3 PM. My feet have been treated and taped up and I have lightened my load a little including giving all but one of my emergency marine flares to Desmond. I feel little difference in the weight as I set off on the long paved road to my next goal — the causeway. I set off at a good pace — taped feet and painkillers are the order of the day. On paved roads I can average nearly 4 MPH, even with backpack, so if I can get into a steady rhythm I may even make up some time.

Bambarra soon beckons and I decide to stay on the paved road and not cut up the old Kings Road and past the cell towers. Although there is a drinking pond on that route I feel the speed I can make on the roads is more beneficial. Few cars pass me. I stop every two miles for water and a snack and also check in periodically by cell and satellite phone. A few miles from Conch Bar and the sun starts to set. The long road ahead is awash with a sunny haze as I get ready for the inevitable onslaught of mosquitoes once the sun goes down.

I rest up briefly just before the old airstrip and force down a packet of chili con carne and some water. My pace is good and despite the weight of the pack I am in good spirits. I slip through the small settlement of Conch Bar in a quiet twilight. There is no wind, it’s deathly quiet, and I see no living thing bar a few potcakes who ignore me. Just past the airstrip are two old water wells and although I have the equipment to probably risk drinking the water in them, the unfortunate sight of garbage, old buckets, and bottles at the bottom makes me decide to pass. I have my daily rations and there will be other opportunities along the way.

The causeway beckons below a night sky filled with stars. On the water on either side there is not even a ripple and the wind is non-existent. By some miracle there are only a few bugs so I discard my head net.

When I have walked this route before, I always look for a certain landmark to spur me on. I know that just after the bend of the causeway, way up on the hill on the right, at Bottle Creek you can see a blue and white house. This always gives me a goal and although I can’t see it now, I know it’s there — three more miles. That’s less than an hour’s walk. I’ll be sleeping in North Caicos tonight for sure!

So, finally, after nearly 30 miles since I awoke on Joe Grant this morning, I set up camp and fall into a deep sleep. Eighteen miles since Lorimers in six hours means I have averaged three MPH. I hope I can repeat it tomorrow.

Day four (22 miles)

I awake to another clear and calm day. The road to Sandy Point will be long and hot with no wind so I get going as soon as I can.

My feet are OK yet the pack feels no lighter! Today is the day I have saved for my iPod, so in go the buds and on go the tunes and very soon I am pacing the tarmac at a good speed. Halfway down Bottle Creek a truck stops and it’s my dear friends Brenda and Ralph. These long term residents of Bottle Creek have got up early to come and cheer me on! It’s a great boost and we joke for a while about a cooked breakfast and a hot shower but I have to decline so they leave me to the open road.

I pass the airport and head onwards to Whitby. The traffic has started to increase slightly as people start heading down Bambarra for the Valentine’s Day Cup model sailboat races. I wonder what they make of a crazy guy with a huge backpack walking the road while playing a air guitar! My iPod is helping distract me from the pain and I keep up a good pace. I am also pleased to see the huge smile of Mac the taxi driver as he passes me. Mac has been instrumental in helping me to train for this event and I wave as he heads past.

On my next rest stop a local guy says he recognizes me from the newspaper and enquires as to my progress. He also passes on his concerns about the bountiful amount of sharks in the channels . . .

Onwards through Whitby and I start on the long road up from the Hollywood Park. More cars pass on their way to Bambarra and some stop to ask for pictures with me. Further up a chartered school bus passes and my good friend Steve Thompson yells encouragement from the window! This boost is multiplied by more good friends Kathi and Mike, who stop for a quick chat.

Sandy Point beckons and I head past the marina to check the tide. I decide to rest up for a while in the pine trees before crossing. I take stock of my water; my concern for the last few hours has been the large amounts of blood in my urine. Not a good sign. I know that dehydration alone is unlikely to cause this but bladder and kidney infection is a strong contender. I am close to the last part of this adventure and would hate to have to retire now. I decide to rest up and drink plenty. I am at my scheduled stop and it’s only 1 PM, so I have plenty of time.

I call Trevor, the security supervisor at Parrot Cay which is a few hundreds yard swim from where I sit. He arranges to meet me when I cross. Once again, the wet kit goes on, the raft gets inflated, and I cross with no issues. Trevor greets me while my buddy Nick snaps away with his camera.

Parrot Cay is only a few miles long and in no time I am at the hotel dock getting ready for the crossing to Dellis Cay. Trevor sees me off safely and I appreciate his presence, especially when I nearly get run down mid-channel by a passing boat — and I thought it was sharks I had to watch for!

I find an abandoned structure and set up camp. I eat all my food (save one for breakfast) and set aside water for tomorrow’s final leg, then drink the rest. My urine blood has started to clear so I guess it’s just a case of “march hematuria” which I have not had since my military days and is caused by muscle trauma. It is common in new recruits, ultra runners, or anyone who undertakes hours of prolonged extreme and repetitive physical exercise. The red blood cells break down and the hemoglobin is released into the urine.

Day five (17 miles)

This is it . . . final day! I have three water crossings to go and they are the largest of the entire trip. The waves still crash on the reef and I hope the channels are calm. My back and feet are in pain, so as well as taking some painkillers I strip down all my kit — batteries can go (far too heavy) as can head-torch, sleeping blanket, fuel tablets, medical kit etc., etc. Anything I won’t need is trashed to help reduce weight, not only for the walk but the expansive water crossings too.

I walk to the edge of the cay and look across to Ft. George Cay. The waves are crashing in through the cut in the reef and continue well into the channel. The wind is whipping them into white caps. According to my charts the tide should be slack, but the wind and waves makes it look anything but that.

I call ahead as planned to John Patrick, head of security on Pine Cay. We have never met but his voice tells me immediately he is a true professional, and I guess ex-military. I tell him I am on my way and he says my reservation is waiting . . . if only!

I launch into the channel and grip my Bergan tightly to the raft. I have on bright orange markers and I kick like fury. Alternating between facing forward and looking back, I can see the tide is indeed slack for I am neither being carried in or out. I am, however, being pounded by relentless waves, which may only be a few feet high but seem mountainous when only your head is above water! I cover the 1,000 yard swim quickly enough and I’m happy to feel Ft. George Cay beneath my feet.

I quickly cross and set off again for Pine Cay. The water is calmer here and I spot John and his crew in the Pine Cay marine patrol boat. The plan is for me to head for the resort dock. I have never been here but have been told the residents value their privacy. The last thing I want to do is upset anyone by beaching in front of someone’s home! Beverly, Wally, and Debbie who manage the island have graciously allowed me to come ashore for a few hours and I don’t want to abuse their kind hospitality.

The tide has other ideas. It has now started to flow out and I have no chance of reaching the dock. John is unfazed and tells me with a smile to “just end up where I end up!” A few minutes later I am met on the beach outside someone’s home by the smiling resort managers Wally and Beverly with a cheery “welcome to Pine Cay!”

I explain it is my plan to rush through the resort with minimal disturbance but the ever gracious Beverly has other ideas. I am allowed to take as much time as I need on the beach to change, sort my kit, and re-pack for the day’s walking. John comes to meet me and we chat as he drives his buggy along the hotel road I have been given access to. He tells me he is an ex-police officer — and that explains his professional competency. I decline his offer of a buggy ride but do give him my garbage bag knowing he will dispose of it thoughtfully.

I overhear a call to all the residents on John’s belt radio about my arrival and saying what road I am walking. I am unsure if I am being greeted like a VIP or very good friend but I soon realize there is little difference on Pine Cay.

As I approach the club house I am met by lovely Debbie the island manager and she walks with me the remainder of the way. Just after, I pass a row of homes and the owners have come to encourage me on with cheers and applause. Some come to the road, others cheer from their decks. This is so much more than I could have hoped for!

We pass the pond by the club house and I stop for a drink. Most welcomed! I head into the club house where a dozen or so owners, guests, and staff gather round and shake my hand. They are so enthusiastic I end up giving a short impromptu presentation of my kit and supplies, then talk them through the journey so far.

It’s soon time to leave and I walk past the very tempting swimming pool and onto the beach. Bizarrely my feet and back don’t hurt and the backpack feels like it’s filled with helium — the welcome I have received here has been staggering and it’s given me such a boost I feel I could run to Water Cay! I want to hug each and every one of these well-wishers for the profound effect they have had on me. I shall never forget this day.

The beach here is very wide, and arguably the best in the TCI. Luckily for me the waves are fairly small, allowing me plenty of compacted sand to walk on. I make good time along the cliffs of Water Cay. The scenery is stunning and I enjoy the view as I sip water and work my way along the island. I drop onto Half Moon Bay and get astonished looks from a group of day-trippers enjoying the beach — I must look quite a sight by now! I plan to cross the Leeward channel from the jetty at Little Water Cay so I cut across the scrub land so I am now opposite Donna Cay. The tide is low and I marvel at the view as I walk the pathway around to the welcome center.

I am pleasantly surprised to bump into Ethlyn Gibbs, the National Trust director, and we catch up and take pictures. I tell her I will be crossing shortly and she says she will wave me off!

After a brief rest, I am further boosted when my wife says she will meet me on Leeward Beach. She will be the first person I see once I finish and I am keen to get started but have to wait for the tide. Eventually I find myself loading my kit into my raft next to the Welcome Center dock. Ralston and Steve are in a boat filming and taking photos and off I go.

It’s a tough swim, but being this near to the end only spurs me on. A kick and paddle and I see my wife on the beach. With a last push I feel the sand under me and grab a handful. My wife embraces me and I have made it!!! I am totally elated!

Although this is the “end,” I have vowed to push onto Grace Bay for the official finish. Sally walks with me for a while and has a flag for me to carry. She will go ahead to the finish while I walk the last two miles. Once alone again I drift lazily along the beach. Blisters, ankles, back — nothing hurts now, it’s all pure euphoria.

I head around the last bend and see Rickie’s Flamingo Cafe ahead. Rachel from the Flamingo Pharmacy has kindly inflated a finish gate which adds to my excitement. As I near, Sally once again appears and we hug again, then it’s onto the finish.

All my friends and well-wishers are here to cheer me home. I head through the gate and collapse onto my knees. It’s all a blur of pictures, handshakes, and questions and I find myself unable to talk, it’s all got to be too much for me.

“South Caicos to Grace Bay. Solo and unsupported” —JOB DONE!

SCOLP STATS

February 11 to 15, 2015

Total miles — 108 16 island/cays crossed; 14 water crossings

Body Weight lost — 9 pounds

Funds raised — $5,300.

MAJOR SPONSORS: Projetech, Melt, Caicos Express Airways, Sailrock, Flamingo Pharmacy (23 sponsors total, including other generous island businesses and individuals) THANK YOU!

CHARITIES SUPPORTED: TCI National Trust, TCI Salvation Army, Edward C. Gartland Youth Center, TCSPCA Schools on South, Middle, and North Caicos