The Sky Is My Garden: Go to Hell, People

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Go to Hell, People

Hell is an hour’s drive from or villa on Grand Cayman (58 minutes for the exacting among us). Though Hell is only something of about 8 kilometers directly across North Sound from where we are staying, we were forced to drive entirely around the sound on the winding island roadways to get there. This required some 53 kilometers of travel, or, as we say in East Helena, Montana, 33 miles.

And remember, we are on a British isle, so to arrive at Hell safely, we had to remain on the wrong side of the road the entire time.

Having finally made it to Hell, I am now convinced everyone needs to go there if ever in the vicinity.

Before anyone gets freaky about this, please note, I am not talking about the fire and brimstone version of Hell where Satan is prodding at Hitler and Dr. Seuss with his trident.

And, yes, Dr. Seuss is there.

Why is Dr. Seuss there? Because his drawings were wicked and disturbing. They scared me when I was a kid.

We arrived at the Grand Cayman version of Hell during the midafternoon. The first thing we saw when arriving at Hell (and this makes perfect sense) was a luridly painted gift shop and a bunch of feral chickens running all over the place.

A quick note on chickens. The island is teeming with wild chickens. Most of the islanders not only tolerate their presence—they often feed them. One taxi driver told us, when Larry asked about them, “We don’t eat ‘dem. No. Day is part of de island culture now. We eat chickens imported from de U.S.”

I still suspect more than a few feral chickens mysteriously vanish in the night.

Anyway, to actually reach hell, you simply walk to a viewing platform behind the gift shop. And there it is.

The Cayman version of Hell is a conspicuous outcrop of jagged-edged, upright limestone formations—a vice of knives—looking just like something Dr. Seuss would have put to paper; perhaps as a gathering place for plain-bellied sneetches. The Hell formation only encompasses an area about the size of a football field, but one glance at the place tells you that crossing would be life-threatening.

Definitely worth swinging in and peering into Hell if you ever draw near, or, as one of the spouses in our group said to the other, “Don’t forget to look for your mom while we are there!”