When I was first exploring the Blake Sea, I happened upon an island that was so unique and beautiful that it drew me to it repeatedly, much like the
siren's call drew unwary travelers to their doom in classical mythology.
Indeed, the first thing one notices when approaching the island from the north (I first saw this island after visiting Crow's Nest) is the wreck of a large turbo prop bi-plane.
The isle forms a half oval shape, and creates a small cove in center which is perfect for sheltering weary travelers.
Beneath the waves of this small cove lie wonders upon wonders, perfect coral reef communities teeming with fish and other marine life.
I love to anchor The Wallaby in the northern part of the cove when I am otherwise busy in RL....
...and rest peacefully in the large bed in The Wallaby's spacious cabin.
While by the side of the sailboat some ducks cruise like tiny little steamboats.
When not sleeping, I sometimes anchor on the south side, near the downed plane.
On this side one can find the remnants of the lost traveler: a campfire, a chair with an old writing pad next to it sheltered by a make-shift tent, wooden boxes that hold his precious few belongings, and sundry warped planks that litter the white sands.
It's quite relaxing to settle oneself on the dilapidated chair and watch the sailboats and planes go by, and muse on the precariousness of man's existence as exemplified by the wrecked plane, in an uncaring and cold world.
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