Caribbean Poker Classic - Blog Day 5  -  By Poker Boss

Most reminiscent of a scene from carry on camping, more drama struck the William Hill evening entertainment last night. What was meant to be an uncomplicated veranda down to Turtle Beach (reportedly only 10 minutes away from the hotel) by 'shuttle bus saw the Hills' party journey up and down a series of steep and treacherous mountain roads, completely unlit and occasionally unmade, whilst negotiating herd after herd of free ranging cows. Yes, cows. Really big cows in the middle of the road facing down the bus! Upon noticing that our bus driver 'Wilf' was reluctant to take the motorised transport any faster than 10 mph, and at one time we were almost overtaken by one of the cows, we quickly realised there was an issue with the blind (and we're not talking the poker kind here).

It turns out Wilf, estimated age approaching 105 years of age, was somewhat vision impaired. Reality was driven home to us, when Wilf completely missed the left turn for Turtle Beach, but his assurances that the sign didn't 'mean' turn left (it's a Caribbean thing!) and trusting his local knowledge we persevered for another 30 minutes until we arrived……..At the dead end of the road, overhanging a cliff!

On turning round, Wilf almost got us stuck in some mud and after much discussion and directing Wilf out of the mud we came to a unanimous decision that it would be wise (and in line with our travel insurance terms and conditions) to just head back to the hotel, reinforced by the fact that it was now nearly time for breakfast as well.

However, the shenanigans didn't end here. 10 minutes back into the journey our driver decided it was time for a toilet break. So the bus is stopped and out stumbles Wilf.

Accepting that we had endured enough drama for one night and basically fearing for our lives, David Hood decided to take control of the situation and hopped into the driving seat to take control of the sharabang. David politely asked Wilf to 'hop in the back'. And thus we made the journey home at a more acceptable pace of 30 miles an hour, dodging cows as we went.

Back in the bar an hour and a half after we had originally set off we all settled at the bar with a stiff drink. Much hilarity and utter disbelief arose when the said driver entered the bar some time later distributing leaflets for his daily tours company. Holy Cow!