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One of the not-so-distant-past issues would have to be Canada’s refusal to support the 2003 Irak conflict triggered by the U.S. bogus claim that the country had to be invaded to eliminate weapons of mass destruction.Besides this military situation and Canada’s participation in both World Wars before the U.S., there are quite a few other differences more relevant to social issues (see below for a review of Fire and Ice: United States and Canada and The Myth of Converging Values, by Michael Adams, CEO, Environics - Fire and Ice | Literary Review of Canada - a must read).Keep scrolling down.Click: Canada's 'No' To Iraq War A Defining Moment For Prime Minister, Even 10 Years Later https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2013/03/19/canada-iraq-war_n_2902305.html, The Huffington Post, POLITICS, 03/19/2013 07:36 EDT | Updated 03/20/2013 08:41 EDT“TORONTO -- Liberal prime minister Jean Chrétien's decision to break with U.S. President George W. Bush on the 2003 invasion of Iraq was a very public and rare expression of Canadian sovereignty that many critics here feared would jeopardize U.S.-Canada relations for years.Privately for Chrétien, it was also one of the defining moments of his 40-year political career, including a decade as prime minister –- a bold declaration of independence and one that many Canadians supported despite this country’s record of joining previous U.S. military efforts, including the 1990-91 Persian Gulf War, Afghanistan War and Korean War.”Keep scrolling down for more differences.Cannabis:Click: 5 Differences Between American and Canadian Recreational Cannabis - IndicaOnline“Canadians everywhere are celebrating the recent legalization of recreational marijuana.Our neighbors to the north are only the second country worldwide to pass legislation for adult-use cannabis and while many U.S. states have already accomplished this feat, Canadian recreational cannabis will look very different from the American market.”Gay Marriage, LGBTQClick: Legalizing gay marriage: Canada and U.S. take very different paths, by Bryn Weese, The Toronto Sun, June 26, 2013“WASHINGTON, D.C. — Pity the gay American fighting for marriage equality.It’s a drawn-out battle being fought piecemeal in 50 different states and through hundreds of different court challenges. In Canada, one vote in Parliament legalized gay marriage nationwide eight years ago, after several provincial court challenges.”Abortion:Click: Abortion in Canada and the U.S., Global News, February 10, 2012“TORONTO – U.S. President Barack Obama announced Friday that he was backing off a new requirement for religious employers to provide free birth control coverage even if it runs counter to their religious beliefs.The administration instead will demand that insurance companies be the ones directly responsible for providing free contraception, the Associated Press reported.‘Religious liberty will be protected and a law that requires free preventative care will not discriminate against women,’ Obama said in a brief appearance in the White House briefing room.”Medical-Health Care:Canada's Health Care Is Better Than In The U.S., But That's Not Enough, by Michelle Cohen, The Huffington Post, 12/01/2017,Canada - metric system; U.S. imperial system of measurement:Click: The U.S. lags behind Canada in conversion to metric system https://www.cbc.ca/archives/entry/the-us-lags-canada-in-conversion-to-metric-systemImmigration:Click: Canada now leads the world in refugee resettlement, surpassing the U.S., by Hynnah Radford and Phillip Connor, The Pew Research Center Fact Tank, Washington, D.C., June 19, 2019Education:Check out the evidence-based sites below for international rankings of 15-year-olds from OECD countries tested in Math, Reading and Science. In the English-speaking world, Canada is No. One and has been consistently for a number of years.Math: Canada 10; UK 27; USA 41, below the world averageReading: Canada 3; UK 22; USA 24Science: Canada 7; UK 15; USA 25Click: How Canada became an education superpower, by Sean Coughlan, Education Correspondent, BBC News, August 2, 2017“When there are debates about the world's top performing education systems, the names that usually get mentioned are the Asian powerhouses such as Singapore and South Korea or the Nordic know-alls, such as Finland or Norway.But with much less recognition, Canada has climbed into the top tier of international rankings.In the most recent round of international Pisa tests, Canada was one of a handful of countries to appear in the top 10 for maths, science and reading.The tests, run by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), are a major study of educational performance and show Canada's teenagers as among the best educated in the world.They are far ahead of geographical neighbours such as the US and European countries with strong cultural ties like the UK and France.At university level, Canada has the world's highest proportion of working-age adults who have been through higher education - 55% compared with an average in OECD countries of 35%.”According to the OECD (Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development) PISA survey (Program for International Student Assessment) of 15-years-old students, in Canada where most students do not wear a uniform, they rank consistently first in the English-speaking world when tested in Math, Reading and Science, well ahead of their U.S. and U.K. counterparts (Source: Business Insider).Math: Canada 10; UK 27; USA 41, below the world averageReading: Canada 3; UK 22; USA 24Science: Canada 7; UK 15; USA 25Click: How Canadians Govern Themselves: Canadian and American GovernmentU.S. - Republic; Canada - Constitutional Monarchy“Canada and the United States are both democracies. They are also both federal states. But there are important differences in the way Canadians and Americans govern themselves.One fundamental difference is that the United States has no official languages, whereas Canada has two. The Fathers of Confederation (1867) deliberately chose to make it so.”Firearms:Click: The Biggest Differences Between Canadian and US Gun Laws - GTA Guns and Gear“Do you know that almost every gun used in an American mass shooting is legally available to buy in Canada?Despite this, Canada doesn’t even come close to suffering the same rate of mass shootings as the United States.But why?In part, it’s because Canada’s gun laws are much stricter than the laws in the US. Let’s take a closer look at the biggest differences between the legal status of Canadian and US guns.”. . .“Background ChecksIn Canada, the process to obtain and possess a gun is rather long and complex.Part of this process involves a meticulous background check on the person interested in purchasing the firearm.A Canadian background check requires a minimum of 28 days.Additionally, the person buying the gun needs to pass a safety test, and a third-party reference is also requested.In the United States, not only is purchasing and owning a firearm quite simple, but a licence is not always required. This means that background checks aren’t always necessary for a gun purchase.Moreover, background checks are often done as quickly as possible and can be superficial. Typically, there is no waiting period for a background check or to obtain a licence or permit. Some guns can even be bought and carried without needing a licence at all, although laws and regulations concerning this matter vary from state to state.”A Pro-Gun Rally? What’s That?Imagine if all that time, money and energy were channeled into something really useful, helpful to people… Ya gotta wonder…Click: Judge Upholds Ban on Weapons at Pro-Gun Rally in Virginia, by Denise Lavoie, Time, January 16, 2020“(RICHMOND, Va.) — A judge on Thursday upheld a ban on firearms at a pro-gun rally scheduled for next week in Virginia, rejecting a request from gun-rights groups that sued to overturn it.The Virginia Citizens Defense League and Gun Owners of America filed a lawsuit Thursday seeking an injunction against the ban, which Gov. Ralph Northam imposed for a rally scheduled to take place Monday on the grounds of the Virginia Capitol.In her written ruling, Richmond Circuit Court Judge Joi Taylor said the governor has the authority under state law to take action related to ‘the safety and welfare’ of the state.’”“The American Gun Lobby use the 2nd amendment - ‘the Right to bear Arms’ - which was passed in December 1791. . . . . . and that might work out a bit better. . . . . . . if they also just used the sort of arms you could bear in December 1791. . . “Click: Why Americans don't do anything about mass shootings, by Mel Robbins, CNN, updated Thursday, February 15, 2018“(CNN) In October, 2017, the worst mass shooting in US history took place at a country music concert in Las Vegas. Fifty-eight people were killed and more than 500 people injured. Bill O'Reilly boiled the massacre down to six words: "This is the price of freedom."Click: Global Human Rights Movement Issues Travel Warning for the U.S. Due to Rampant Gun Violence, Amnesty International, August, 2019“’Travelers to the United States should remain cautious that the country does not adequately protect people’s right to be safe, regardless of who they might be. People in the United States cannot reasonably expect to be free from harm - a guarantee of not being shot is impossible,’ said Ernest Coverson, campaign manager for the End Gun Violence Campaign at Amnesty International USA. ‘Once again, it is chillingly clear that the U.S. government is unwilling to ensure protection against gun violence.’The travel advisory addressed growing gun violence, mostly hate crimes, including racism and discrimination, highlighting that the traveler's race, country of origin, ethnic background, sexual orientation or gender identity may place them at higher risk after recent attacks linked to white supremacist ideology.”Add to your reading list:Click: Fire and Ice: United States and Canada and The Myth of Converging Values - Fire and Ice | Literary Review of Canada“Into this political, economic, cultural and psychological maelstrom strode pollster Michael Adams.Adams, the head of Environics, confidently, controversially and counterintuitively told us that not only were the differences between Canadians and Americans real and significant, but they were also deepening. It was very un-Canadian, in a most Canadian way.Adams told us something that was, in retrospect, hidden in plain sight. Using a raft of polling information (14,000 interviews across years of data gathering), he showed that the values of the two countries were indeed diverging: Americans were becoming increasingly attuned toward consumerism, violence, exclusion, patriarchy and racism; Canadians, on the other hand, were increasingly embracing pluralism, inclusion, openness and flexibility.”Click: Sex in Snow: The Surprising Revolution in Canadian Social Values“In this 1997 bestseller, Michael Adams describes the trajectory of social change in Canada, illuminating the society's movement over the latter half of the 20th century from values of religiosity and deference to authority to those of secularism and autonomy.Dividing the population into twelve distinct social values "tribes," Adams argues that for Canadians demography is no longer destiny. In contemporary Canada, individuals' identities are increasingly defined not by traditional demographic markers such as age, race, gender, and class, but by their personal values and worldviews aspect of their existence.”Click: 99 reasons why it’s better to be Canadian - Macleans.ca, June 28, 2013Canadian $100 bill : Innovation In Medical Research, Canadian discovery of insulin…U.S. $100 bill : In God We Trust (and may “God” help the World…)And many more differences too numerous to list here. Click on all the above links for the full picture.

The story of the heist is better than any robbery movie(fictional or real) carried out with military precision. Spies and other covert operatives can easily take a page from the book.The main criminal is a man called: Leonardo NotarbartoloAnd he narrated his story to Joshua Davis from his prison,:The story is as follows:In the summer of 2001, Leonardo Notarbartolo sipped an espresso at a café on Hoveniersstraat, the diamond district's main street. It was a cramped, narrow place with a half-dozen small tables, but from the corner by the window Notarbartolo could look out on the epicenter of the world's diamond trade.Now, as he finished his espresso, one of them—a Jewish dealer—came in and sat down to chat."Actually, I want to talk to you about something a little unusual," the dealer said casually. "Maybe we could walk a little?"They headed out, and once they were clear of the district, the dealer picked up the conversation. His tone had changed however. The casualness was gone."I'd like to hire you for a robbery," he said. "A big robbery."The agreement was straightforward. For an initial payment of 100,000 euros, Notarbartolo would answer a simple question: Could the vault in the Antwerp Diamond Center be robbed?So he strolled into the Diamond District with a pen poking out of his breast pocket. At a glance, it looked like a simple highlighter, but the cap contained a miniaturized digital camera capable of storing 100 high-resolution images. Photography is strictly limited in the district, but nobody noticed Notarbartolo's pencam.He began his reconnaissance at the police surveillance booth on the Schupstraat, a street leading into the center of the district. Behind the booth's bulletproof glass, two officers monitored the area. The three main blocks of the district bristled with video cameras: Every inch of street and sky appeared to be under watch. The booth also contained the controls for the retractable steel cylinders that are deployed to prevent vehicular access to the district. As Notarbartolo walked past, he began taking pictures.He headed toward the Diamond Center itself, a gray, 14-story, fortresslike building on the south end of the district. It had a private security force that operated a nerve center located at the entrance. Access was blocked by metal turnstiles, and visitors were questioned by guards. Notarbartolo flashed his tenant ID card and breezed through. His camera captured crisp images of everything.He took the elevator, descending two floors underground to a small, claustrophobic room—the vault antechamber. A 3-ton steel vault door dominated the far wall. It alone had six layers of security. There was a combination wheel with numbers from 0 to 99. To enter, four numbers had to be dialed, and the digits could be seen only through a small lens on the top of the wheel. There were 100 million possible combinations.The door was monitored by a pair of abutting metal plates, one on the door itself and one on the wall just to the right. When armed, the plates formed a magnetic field. If the door were opened, the field would break, triggering an alarm. To disarm the field, a code had to be typed into a nearby keypad. Finally, the lock required an almost-impossible-to-duplicate foot-long key.Notarbartolo pressed a buzzer on the steel grate. A guard upstairs glanced at the video-feed, recognized Notarbartolo, and remotely unlocked the steel grate. Notarbartolo stepped inside the vault.It was silent—he was surrounded by thick concrete walls. The place was outfitted with motion, heat, and light detectors. A security camera transmitted his movements to the guard station, and the feed was recorded on videotape. The safe-deposit boxes themselves were made of steel and copper and required a key and combination to open. Each box had 17,576 possible combinations.Notarbartolo went through the motions of opening and closing his box and then walked out. The vault was one of the hardest targets he'd ever seen.The Antwerp Diamond Center vault was protected by 10 layers of security.The Door1. Combination dial (0-99)2. Keyed lock3. Seismic sensor (built-in)4. Locked steel grate5. Magnetic sensor6. External security cameraThe Vault7. Keypad for disarming sensors8. Light sensor9. Internal security camera10. Heat/motion sensor (approximate location)Illustration: Joe McKendryFive months later, the dealer called up Notarbartolo and asked him to meet at an address outside Antwerp. When Notarbartolo arrived, the dealer was waiting for him in front of an abandoned warehouse."I want to introduce you to some people," he said, unlocking the battered front door.Inside, a massive structure was covered with black plastic tarps. The dealer pulled back a corner and they ducked underneath.At first, Notarbartolo was confused. He seemed to be standing in the vault antechamber. To his left, he saw the vault door. He was inside an exact replica of the Diamond Center's vault level. Everything was the same. As far as Notarbartolo could tell, the dealer had reconstructed it based on the photographs he had provided. Notarbartolo felt like he had stepped into a movie.Inside the fake vault, three Italians were having a quiet conversation. They stopped talking when they saw the dealer and Notarbartolo. The dealer introduced them, though Notarbartolo refuses to reveal their names, referring to them only by nicknames.The Genius specialized in alarm systems. According to the dealer, he could disable any kind of alarm."You can disable this?" Notarbartolo asked, pointing at the replica vault."I can disable most of it," the Genius said with a smile. "You're going to have to do one or two things yourself, though."The tall, muscular man was the Monster. He was called that because he was monstrously good at everything he did. He was an expert lock picker, electrician, mechanic, and driver and had enormous physical strength. Everybody was a little scared of him, which was another reason for the nickname.The King of Keys was a quiet older man. His age set him apart from the others—he looked like somebody's grandfather. The diamond dealer said that the wizened locksmith was among the best key forgers in the world. One of his contributions would be to duplicate the nearly impossible-to-duplicate foot-long vault key."Just get me a clear video of it," the man told Notarbartolo. "I'll do the rest.""That's not so easy," Notarbartolo pointed out.The King of Keys shrugged. That wasn't his problem."Don't worry," the Genius said. "I'll help."The fourth person is a guy named Speedy who is his childhood friend.In September 2002, a guard stepped up to the vault door and began to spin the combination wheel. It was 7 am. He was right on schedule.Directly above his head and invisible behind the glare of a recessed light, a fingertip-sized video camera captured his every move. With each spin, the combination came to rest on a number. A small antenna broadcast the image. Nearby, in a storage room beside the vault, an ordinary-looking red fire extinguisher was strapped to the wall. The extinguisher was fully functional, but a watertight compartment inside housed electronics that picked up and recorded the video signal.When the guard finished dialing the combination, he inserted the vault's key. The video camera recorded a sharp image of it before it disappeared inside the keyhole.He spun the handle, and the vault door swung open.Thursday morning, February 13, 2003. Two days before the heist. The thud-thud-thud of a police helicopter beat over a convoy of police cars escorting an armored truck through the heart of Antwerp. They blew past posters of Venus Williams—she was due in town to compete in the Proximus Diamond Games tennis tournament.The escorts bristled with firepower. They belonged to a special diamond-delivery protection unit, and each cop carried a fully automatic weapon. Their cargo: De Beers' monthly shipment of diamonds, worth millions.Every month, Antwerp's share of the boxes was flown into Belgium and transferred to a Brinks armored truck. Once the truck's doors slammed shut, the convoy sped away, sirens wailing. The vehicles rocketed past the guard gate at the entrance of the district, and the giant metal cylinders rose out of the ground behind them, blocking any further automotive access.The armed escorts fanned out on foot around the armored truck to form a perimeter. No one was allowed near the vehicle. The doors swung open, and the boxes were quickly carried through an unremarkable entrance in the middle of the block. It was payday. The Diamond District was flush.Notarbartolo was buzzed into the vault the next day, Friday, February 14—the day before the robbery. He was alone. In his jacket pocket, he carried a can of women's hair spray.A security camera recorded his movements—police would later watch the footage—but the guard had gotten used to the Italian's frequent visits and wasn't paying attention. Notarbartolo stepped away from the safe-deposit boxes and pulled out the aerosol can. With a quick, practiced circular movement, he covered the combined heat/motion sensor with a thin coat of transparent, oily mist.The vault was momentarily filled with the smell of a woman's hair.It was a simple but effective hack: The oily film would temporarily insulate the sensor from fluctuations in the room's temperature, and the alarm went off only if it sensed both heat and motion.Still, it was hard to guess how long the trick would work. Once the Monster was in the vault, he had to install the sensor bypass before his body heat penetrated the film. He might have five minutes—he might have less. Nobody knew for sure.Across town, the Diamond District was deserted. Notarbartolo drove his rented gray Peugeot 307 past the city's soot-covered central train station and turned onto Pelikaanstraat, a road that skirted the district. He pulled to the curb, and the Monster, the Genius, the King of Keys, and Speedy stepped out carrying large duffel bags. The King of Keys picked the lock on a run-down office building, and they disappeared through the door. It was a little past midnight.The Genius led them out the rear of the building into a private garden that abutted the back of the Diamond Center. It was one of the few places in the district that wasn't under video surveillance. Using a ladder he had previously hidden there, the Genius climbed up to a small terrace on the second floor. A heat-sensing infrared detector monitored the terrace, but he approached it slowly from behind a large, homemade polyester shield. The low thermal conductivity of the polyester blocked his body heat from reaching the sensor. He placed the shield directly in front of the detector, preventing it from sensing anything.The balcony was now safe. While the rest of the team scrambled up, the Genius disabled an alarm sensor on one of the balcony's windows. One by one, the thieves climbed through the window, dropped into a stairwell, and descended to the darkened vault antechamber. They covered the security cameras with black plastic bags and flipped on the lights. The vault door stood imposingly before them. The building was quiet—no alarms had been triggered. The police never determined how the men had entered the building.The Genius pulled a custom-made slab of rigid aluminum out of his bag and affixed heavy-duty double-sided tape to one side. He stuck it on the two plates that regulated the magnetic field on the right side of the vault door and unscrewed their bolts. The magnetic plates were now loose, but the sticky aluminum held them together, allowing the Genius to pivot them out of the way and tape them to the antechamber wall. The plates were still side by side and active—the magnetic field never wavered—but they no longer monitored the door. Some 30 hours later, the authorities would marvel at the ingenuity.Next, the King of Keys played out a hunch. In Notarbartolo's videos, the guard usually visited a utility room just before opening the vault. When the thieves searched the room, they found a major security lapse: The original vault key was hanging inside.The King of Keys grabbed the original. There was no point in letting the safe manufacturers know that their precious key could be copied, and the police still don't know that a duplicate was made.The King of Keys slotted the original in the keyhole and waited while the Genius dialed in the combination they had gleaned from the video. A moment later, the Genius nodded. The Monster turned off the lights—they didn't want to trigger the light detector in the vault when the door opened. In the darkness, the King of Keys turned the key and spun a four-pronged handle. The bolts that secured the door retracted and it swung heavily open.Speedy ran up the stairwell. It was his job to stay in touch with Notarbartolo, but there was no cell phone reception down in the vault. Upstairs, he got a signal and dialed his old friend."We're in," he said and hung up.Notarbartolo put his phone back on the dashboard. He was sitting in the Peugeot and could see the front of the Diamond Center a block and a half away. His police scanner was quiet. He took a sip of cold coffee and waited.In the antechamber, the King of Keys deftly picked the lock on the metal grate. He shuffled backward as the Monster propped the grate open with two cans of paint he found in the storeroom. Like the rest of the team, the Monster wore plastic gloves—the police would find no prints on the cans. It was now up to him to disable the remaining systems.The Monster oriented himself in the darkness at the vault entrance. The only sound was the steady breathing of the others behind him. His body was already projecting heat into the vault—the hair spray on the infrared sensor wouldn't last. Every second he was there would raise the ambient temperature. He had to move quickly but keep his heart rate low.As he'd practiced in the warehouse, he strode exactly 11 steps into the middle of the room, reached for the ceiling, and pushed back a panel. He felt the security system's main inbound and outbound wires. An automatic electric pulse constantly shot into the room and back out along these wires. If any of the sensors were tripped, the circuit would break. When a pulse shot into the room, it expected an answer. If it didn't get one, it activated the alarm.With his hands over his head, the Monster used a tool to strip the plastic coating off the wires. It was a delicate task. One slip could cut through, instantly breaking the circuit and tripping the alarm.The police would later discover stripped wires in the ceiling and guess that the thieves considered cutting them, only to lose their nerve. But Notabartolo says that the Monster knew exactly what he was doing. Once the copper wires were exposed, he clipped a new, precut piece of wire between the inbound and outbound cables. This bridge rerouted the incoming electric pulse over to the outbound wire before the signal reached the sensors. It no longer mattered what happened further down the line. The sensors were out of the loop. It was now safe for the others to enter.Still, the men were cautious. They blinded the heat/motion detector with a Styrofoam box, covered the light detector with tape, and then set to work. The King of Keys unloaded a homemade, hand-cranked drill and fitted it with a thin shaft of metal. He jammed the shaft into one of the locks and cranked for about three minutes—until the lock broke, snapping open the box.The guys took turns yanking the contents out. Since they had memorized the layout of the vault in the replica, they worked in the dark, turning on their flashlights only for split seconds—enough to position the drill over the next box.But in those muffled flashes, they could glimpse their duffel bags overflowing with gold bars, millions in Israeli, Swiss, American, European, and British currencies, and leather satchels that contained the mother lode: rough and polished diamonds. They resisted the urge to examine their haul; they were running out of time.By 5:30 am, they had opened 109 boxes. A tamped-down giddiness pervaded the dark vault, but they had to stop. The streets would fill with people soon, and they needed to transfer their bags into Notarbartolo's car. Speedy relayed the message to him. They were coming out.It took almost an hour for the team to haul the bags up the stairs, pass by the infrared sensor, lower the loot down the ladder, and gather in the hallway of the decrepit office building. Notarbartolo idled at the curb while on the phone with Speedy. A bus came and went, and then the street was empty."Now," he hissed.In the predawn half-light, the four men raced out of the building. They jammed the bags in the car, slammed the doors, and headed off on foot for Notarbartolo's apartment. He put the car in gear and slowly pulled away.In half an hour, they were huddled around the bags in the apartment. The Monster unzipped one and pulled out a leather satchel. It was time to celebrate.He opened the satchel and looked up, bewildered. It was empty.He took out another. It was also empty. A wave of anxiety swept the room. They unzipped all the other duffel bags and rifled through the satchels. More often than not, there was nothing in them.Something had gone wrong. The diamonds should have been there."We've been set up," Notarbartolo said.February 16, 2003 — a clear, frozen Sunday evening in Belgium. Notarbartolo took the E19 motorway out of Antwerp. In the passenger seat, a man known as Speedy fidgeted nervously, damp with sweat. Notarbartolo punched it, and his rented Peugeot 307 sped south toward Brussels. They hadn't slept in two days.Speedy scanned the traffic behind them in the side-view mirror and maintained a tense silence. Notarbartolo had worked with him for 30 years—they were childhood buddies—but he knew that his friend had a habit of coming apart at the end of a job. The others on the team hadn't wanted Speedy in on this one—they said he was a liability. Notarbartolo could see their point, but out of loyalty, he defended his friend. Speedy could handle it, he said.And he had. They had executed the plan perfectly: no alarms, no police, no problems. The heist wouldn't be discovered until guards checked the vault on Monday morning. The rest of the team was already driving back to Italy with the gems. They'd rendezvous outside Milan to divvy it all up. There was no reason to worry. Notarbartolo and Speedy just had to burn the incriminating evidence sitting in a garbage bag in the backseat.Notarbartolo pulled off the highway and turned onto a dirt road that led into a dense thicket. The spot wasn't visible from the highway, though the headlights of passing cars fractured through the trees. Notarbartolo told Speedy to stay put and got out to scout the area.He passed a rusty, dilapidated gate that looked like it hadn't been touched since the Second World War. It was hard to see in the dark, but the spot seemed abandoned. He decided to burn the stuff near a shed beside a small pond and headed back to the car.When he got there, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Speedy had lost it. The contents of the garbage bag was strewn among-st the trees. Speedy was stomping through the mud, hurling paper into the underbrush. Spools of videotape clung to the branches like streamers on a Christmas tree. Israeli and Indian currency skittered past a half-eaten salami sandwich. The mud around the car was flecked with dozens of tiny, glittering diamonds. It would take hours to gather everything up and burn it."I think someone's coming," Speedy said, looking panicked.Notarbartolo glared at him. The forest was quiet except for the occasional sound of a car or truck on the highway. It was even possible to hear the faint gurgling of a small stream. Speedy was breathing fast and shallow—the man was clearly in the midst of a full-blown panic attack."Get back in the car," Notarbartolo ordered. They were leaving. Nobody would ever find the stuff here.The job was done.The vault after the job.True Intentions:Notarbartolo stepped into a scalding-hot shower while the others made salami sandwiches in the kitchen. He needed some clarity—the fatigue was weighing on him. In the weeks preceding the heist, he had seen many of the satchels in the offices of the diamantaires, and they were always filled with inventory. He expected the total take to exceed $100 million. Now they were looking at a fraction of that—probably about $20 million.Notarbartolo reflected on his interactions with the diamond dealer, and a thought flashed through his mind: Maybe the dealer wasn't operating alone. If he tipped off a group of his fellow merchants, they could have pulled their inventory out of the vault before the heist. Each could then claim that their gems were stolen and collect the insurance while secretly keeping their stones. Most had safes in their offices—they could have simply kept the stock there. Notarbartolo realized that the heist he had spent so much time planning might have actually been part of an elaborate insurance scam.He shut off the water. A half hour earlier he was a king. Now he felt like a pawn.Discovery: Meanwhile,Patrick Peys and Agim De Bruycker arrived at the Diamond Center the next morning. They had just received a frantic call: The vault had been compromised. The subterranean chamber was supposed to be one of the most secure safes in the world. Now the foot-thick steel door was ajar, and more than 100 of the 189 safe-deposit boxes had been busted open. Peys and De Bruycker were stunned. The floor was strewn with wads of cash and velvet-lined boxes. Peys stepped on a diamond-encrusted bracelet. It appeared that the thieves had so much loot, they simply couldn't carry it all away.Peys and De Bruycker lead the Diamond Squad, the world's only specialized diamond police. Their beat: the labyrinthine Antwerp Diamond District. Eighty percent of the world's rough diamonds pass through this three-square-block area, which is under 24-hour police surveillance and monitored by 63 video cameras. About $3 billion worth of gem sales were reported here in 2003, but that's not counting a hidden world of handshake deals and off-ledger transactions. Business relationships follow the ancient family and religious traditions of the district's dominant Jewish and Indian dealers, known as diamantaires. In 2000, the Belgian government realized it would require a special type of cop to keep an eye on things and formed the squad. Peys and De Bruycker were the first hires.De Bruycker called headquarters, asking for a nationwide alert: The Antwerp Diamond Center had been brazenly robbed. Then he dialed Securilink, the vault's alarm company."What is the status of the alarm?" he asked."Fully functional," the operator said, checking the signals coming in from the Diamond Center. "The vault is secure.""Then how is it that the door is wide open and I'm standing inside the vault?" De Bruycker demanded, glancing at the devastation all around him.He hung up and looked at Peys. They were up against a rare breed of criminal.August Van Camp likes weasels. The 59-year-old retired Belgian grocer had two—he called them Mickey and Minnie—and he enjoyed sending them down holes in the forest. Typically, a rabbit came rocketing out the other end. It was a lot of fun.But because it adjoined the highway, Van Camp found a lot of garbage. The local teenagers once decided to have a party there and burned down a little hut he'd built. It made him fume with anger.When he found garbage, he phoned the police, who had gotten used to his calls.While hunting one morning—Monday, February 17, to be exact—Van Camp was incensed to find yet another pile of junk in the underbrush. After a flash of pique that made him puff out his cheeks, throw up his arms, and wonder what the world was coming to, he knelt down and glared at the refuse. He wanted to be able to describe to the cops what he had to put up with. There was videotape strewn all over the place. A wine bottle rested near a half-eaten salami sandwich. There were also some white envelopes printed with the words DIAMOND CENTER, ANTWERP. Van Camp's irritation increased."Kids," he grumbled.At home, he punched in the number for the police and asked to lodge a complaint. The officer listened as Van Camp tallied the mess. When Van Camp mentioned Diamond Center envelopes, the officer broke in. "What was that?" he said."Antwerp Diamond Center envelopes," Van Camp sputtered.This time, the police came running.By mid-afternoon, a half-dozen detectives swarmed the forest, painstakingly gathering the garbage and collecting stray gems. Van Camp watched with satisfaction. The police were finally treating his litter situation with the proper respect.Within hours, the trash began to fill the evidence room at the Diamond Squad headquarters in Antwerp. A member of the squad bent over the clear plastic bags, looking for immediate clues. A pile of torn paper seemed promising. It didn't take long to reassemble the pieces like a jigsaw puzzle. It was an invoice for a low-light video surveillance system. The buyer: Leonardo Notarbartolo.Back at Van Camp's property, another detective knelt among the thorny brambles and peered at a small, jagged piece of paper poking out of the mud. He carefully lifted it free and held it up to the light.It was a business card that bore the address and phone number of Elio D'Onorio, an Italian electronics expert tied to a series of robberies. Notarbartolo has consistently refused to identify his accomplices, but all evidence indicates that D'Onorio is the Genius.The lab techs also bagged a half-eaten salami sandwich. They found Antipasto Italiano salami packaging nearby and sent it along to Diamond Squad headquarters.Four days later, the detectives executed a search warrant on the apartment Notarbartolo rented in Antwerp. In a cupboard, they found a receipt from a local grocery store for Antipasto Italiano salami. The receipt had a time-stamp.A detective drove to the grocery and asked the manager to rewind his closed-circuit television to 12:56 pm on Thursday, February 13. When the video came to a halt and snapped into focus, there was an image of a tall, muscular Italian purchasing salami. His name: Ferdinando Finotto—the man most likely to be the Monster.While one of his friends from the Netherlands waited on the street outside the Diamond Center, Notarbartolo waved at the security guard and dropped in to collect his mail. The guard knew that the police were investigating Notarbartolo and phoned the building manager, who immediately called the detectives.When the police arrived, they found Notarbartolo chatting with the building manager and began peppering him with questions. The friend took off as Notarbartolo stalled for time, pretending to have trouble understanding French and claiming that he couldn't remember the exact address of his own apartment. He just knew how to walk there."Let's go then," Peys said and loaded the Italian into a car.Eventually, Notarbartolo pointed out the apartment.As the police car pulled to the curb, Notarbartolo's wife and the friends who'd come for dinner stepped out of the building. They were loaded down with bags and one carried a rolled-up carpet. Another minute and they would have been gone.The police took everyone into custody.The bags contained critical evidence. The police dug out a series of prepaid SIM cards that were linked to cell phones used almost exclusively to call three Italians: Elio D'Onorio, aka the Genius; Ferdinando Finotto, alias the Monster; and the person most likely to be Speedy, an anxious, paranoid man named Pietro Tavano, a longtime associate of Notarbartolo's. On the night of the heist, a cell tower in the Diamond District logged the presence of all three, plus Notarbartolo. During that time, Tavano stayed in constant contact with Notarbartolo.The day Notarbartolo was arrested, Italian police broke open the safe at his home in Turin. They found 17 polished diamonds attached to certificates that the Belgian diamond detectives traced back to the vault. More gems were vacuumed out of the rolled-up carpet from Notarbartolo's Antwerp apartment.The Belgian courts came down hard. They found Notarbartolo guilty of orchestrating the heist and sentenced him to 10 years.With the cell phone records and the peculiarly precise salami sandwich evidence, the Belgian detectives persuaded French police to raid the home of Finotto's girlfriend on the French Riviera. They retrieved marked $100 bills that the detectives say belonged to one of the Diamond Center victims. Legal proceedings dragged on, but Finotto was finally arrested in Italy in November 2007 and is serving a five-year sentence there.When questioned by police in Italy, D'Onorio admitted that he had installed security cameras in Notarbartolo's office but denied any involvement in the crime. Nonetheless, his DNA was found on some adhesive tape left in the vault. He was extradited to Belgium in November 2007 to begin a five-year sentence.The high-strung Pietro Tavano is serving a five-year sentence in Italy for the crime. He has refused to allow his attorney to make any statements on his behalf.A fifth thief has never been identified, though police know of his existence via cell phone records and DNA traces. The King of Keys was never apprehended.That is the current story:Its not yet been confirmed that Notarbartolo did actually steal $100 million worth diamonds or of $20 million. It may be a lie, it can also be the truth. Since the stolen diamonds have not yet been recovered no one can say for sure what actually happened except for Notarbartolo.Only one reference for this amazing tale:The Untold Story of the World's Biggest Diamond HeistUPDATE: Thanks for such an overwhelming response(its the first one I ever got)I have attached a video link from the same source. Its a short narration by the author (Joshua Davis) himself and I think it will add and hopefully complete the answer.

This is not my adventure, but my fathers.At age 23, Doug Hill transnavigated the Caribbean (from Trinidad and Tobago to Florida) in an 18 foot prindle catamaran with his friend Mike Callahan.It was a three month, 2,000 mile journey.This piece is a non-fiction retelling, compiled from a combination of publications from Rudder Magazine, the book A Speck on the Sea by William Longyard and the first hand accounts of one of the two travelers, Doug Hill. Because this account touches on events from over 40 years ago, I have done my best to keep the chronology intact, but it may occasionally cover events out of proper ordering.What follows is an epic journey that takes us back to a different time, that ignites our primal sense of adventure, that tests the limits of human resilience and teaches us lessons about humanity itself.--------------------------------------Chapter 1:It was 1981.Two friends, one an experienced sailor, Doug Hill, and one a scrappy outdoorsman, Mike Callahan, decided to ship a boat to Trinidad and Tobago and set out on an adventure. They traveled with very few possessions, with Doug recounting he had brought only one pair of shorts, one pair of pants, one or two shirts, a bathing suit and a sheet he had sewn in half as a makeshift sleeping bag.The first day they cast off, the weather bore ominous tidings of what was to come.Heavy winds rattled the boat, tossing the small vessel at will up and down on the ocean’s tumultuous roils. Endless rain beat down from frothy clouds above. The boat ripped through the water with startling speed, its sails full and energized.The first night they made their landing on a small island near the mainland of Grenada, pulling up on a sandy beach, wet and exhausted. Natives of the island crowded the tree line quietly, staring at the unknown visitors. With the rain finally abating, Doug and Mike slept openly on the sand under a star strewn sky.The following day they worked their way up the coastline of Grenada. They made occasional stops at beaches and inlets that harbored tiny huts or scrap metal dwellings and locals would often greet them. They spoke english, were kind and helpful. The kids would approach them openly and without reservation, pestering them with endless questions.As they rounded the edge of Grenada, they sailed into a series of long sandbanks, gnarled with mangroves.Luckily, the boat was highly buoyant, sinking no more than eight inches below the surface, which stood as a sizable advantage when navigating the shallow reefs and treacherous inlets.They stayed on the leeward side of the island to dodge the powerful winds, but as they set out on their second day they were gripped by a vicious storm nonetheless. They attempted to sail through it and that was a decision that nearly cost them their lives.As the day deepened and the sun lay hidden behind a veil of bleak clouds, huge rogue swells began to roll through. Towering mountains of water, as high as the mast, rose like deadly giants all around them. They took down the jib and sailed only with the main to try and reduce the boat's speed but it was no use. As they shot down the swells at a dangerous clip the boat vibrated feverishly, seemingly threatening to tear apart. Doug and Mike jammed their feet into the central tarp and hung off the back as they reached the bottom of each swell, attempting to make sure the nose of the boat didn’t tip too far down and flip. Once they passed over a swell, they would attempt to open up all the sails and go as fast as possible to try and ride in the wake, on the backside of the swell. When they inevitably failed and a new swell picked them up, they were forced to pull the sails in and repeat the same grueling routine. Finally, at the base of one particularly colossal swell they hit the base with such force the boat plunged underwater before popping back up.Realizing that life and death hung in the balance, they desperately maneuvered to the nearest beach they could find. Here Doug made the harrowing discovery that one of the aluminum cross supports between the pontoons was cracked nearly in half. Scouting the beach they spotted a dirt path that led inland, and after dismantling the boat’s beam, they propped the beam onto their backs and started out for help. As they wound their way along an overgrown trail, small ramshackle sheds of rusted scrap metal could be seen nestled amongst the trees.Finally they reached a larger shed looking house, with an assortment of tools strewn about around the entrance. They opened the door and stepped inside. In the center of what appeared to be a craftsman’s workshop sat a man, skin a dark black, who stared at them curiously. Doug stepped forward and explained they had been stranded and they needed to repair this support beam of the boat.The man stood up but did not say a word.Chapter 2:After a moment's pause the man picked up a pair of goggles, grabbed a welding torch and the beam from them and suddenly got to work. They tried to speak to the man, to offer remuneration for his work, but it appeared he did not speak english.They waited in silence until he had finished and he handed them the beam back. Doug felt a rush of relief and embraced the man in a hug. Still the villager refused any currency or repayment for his work. He merely nodded stoically.After thanking the man effusively, Mike and Doug headed back to the beach. As they strode down the path, the growing night seemed to have chased back the storm. Exhausted from the day's exertion, sleep came easily on the open sand.The next day the weather was calm and the winds tempered. They had packed little food, so they set out to gather conch, crabs and lobster. After sailing for a bit they found a good cove, protected from the open elements.Doug and Mike had both brought Hawaiian Slings, essentially a spear with a thick rubber band attached and they began to hunt for fish. They caught a handful, but many others escaped bloodied, tracking streams of inky red through the water. Doug decided to explore a bit further out, entranced by the vibrant reef that was teeming with every color and shade of fish you could imagine.Then, as Mike was pulling himself back on to the ship, he saw it. A huge fin crested the water on the opposite side of the boat before slipping back below the surface.“SHARK!” Mike roared. “Doug! Shark! A big Shark!”. But his cries went unheard as Doug continued to explore further and further from the boat, coming up for only brief moments to get air. Finally, after several minutes of panicked calls, Doug heard him.“Pull up the anchor and bring over the boat!” Doug shouted.“I am not getting in there! You swim over here! That thing was huge!” Mike retorted, his eyes wide with fear. He scanned the water nervously, not sure if the heavy shadows he was seeing in the water were the shark or reflections from the reef bed below.There was a bit of back and forth but eventually Mike plunged down and unhinged the anchor and brought around the boat. They never saw the shark again but felt cautious moving forward around using the Hawaiian Slings.For the next stop, the maps had directed them to a harbor. However, as the boat weaved through long sand bank, after long sand bank, they became increasingly worried. The mainland coast was inaccessible. Huge tangles of mangroves made the travel even more treacherous.Mike was beginning to complain of stomach issues, exacerbated by their growing hunger. As the sun fell, they realized that anchoring on to a sand bank was their only option. As Doug tried to get the boat situated, a mangrove root punctured his shorts and impaled his leg.As if attempting to set up and sleep on this forsaken strip of sand was not challenging enough, Doug had sustained an injury, Mike was feeling ill and the bugs were horrific. Doug would describe it as the worst night of the entire 3-month journey. No-see-ums (tiny sand flea-like bugs) and ravenous flys ripped at their skin. They tried to pull the sheet up tight in defense but it was no use, the bugs bit them through the protection. The pain, as the number of bites mounted, was almost unbearable.After a sleepless night they left at day break, their bodies riddled with so many bites they formed long, swollen, scar-like protrusions across their arms, legs and backs. That day the weather was dismal, a light, tepid rain keeping them perpetually sodden and uncomfortable. Doug’s wound was starting to fester.After several hours on the open water, moving quickly after having left the cursed mangrove stop, they passed a sailboat that had their jib pulled in and their main was reefed. Here in the Caribbean, where even a normal day’s winds were intense, it seemed to be a way that boats were controlling their speed. Doug and Mike took note.Towards the evening of that day, after a long stretch of travel, the harbor finally came into view.“This must be where Saint George University is!,” Doug said.Chapter 3:Concerned for their health, they brought the boat ashore on to the sand and immediately headed out in search of medical care. They quickly found the location of a hospital, run by Cuban doctors and walked in.Here they received free medical care and free medicine for the months to follow. Doug was diagnosed with a staph infection on his leg and they said it was lucky it had been caught quickly. Mike’s condition was less serious but he was also given treatment to go. As the doctors treated them, Doug fell into conversation with his physician and he was stunned by what he was told.This hospital was built by the Cubans as a way to curry favor with the locals through free medical care. They sent only married doctors (who came over without their families) as an insurance policy to make sure the doctors didn’t run off. When the Cuban military later came to the island, the locals welcomed them with open arms as they were grateful for the medical care they had received. The Cubans control of the island however would be brief, for the US would shortly after launch an invasion and take Grenada from the Cubans in Operation Urgent Fury.After receiving care Doug and Mike split up and explored the city. Doug visited a US university in Grenada, one of the first in the carribean, called St. George's University. He looked for the cheapest food with the highest nutrition he could find, which turned out to be dog food. Shaking his head, he recounted to me the unsettling revelation he made later that night that dog food is jam packed with thousands of small bones! Once again they slept out in the elements.As they left Grenada the following day, they left troll lines to hang behind the boat for fish. Unfortunately, the waters around Grenada yielded nothing. It was part of a pattern that Doug described he would continue to see on their trip. The closer to civilization and population centers they were, the worse the supply of food. The more remote they got, the better their catches.As Grenada shrunk away in the distance, a storm once again seized their vessel. Tempest winds howled wildy around them. A deluge continued for hours, keeping them perpetually drenched and shivering. At one point, they heard a crack and the rudder began to malfunction. Realizing the target island for the day was untenable, Doug steered them to the nearest island they could find. Here they pulled the boat up on shore, and discovered that the rudder coupling had been broken. They unscrewed the piece and went inland to search for someone who could help.Quickly Doug discovered there was a small village, with shacks and food stands spread out in a wide clearing. Some of the natives of the island approached them, graciously offering to help however they could. Doug explained the issue with the rudder coupling and they pointed him up to a hill where supposedly there was a man who could help.They trekked for some time along a dirt path that arked ever upwards, flanked on both sides by an explosion of verdant greenery. The island was alive with the steady chirp and hum of the wild. Finally, they reached a quaint and eccentric looking house, with strange metal creations ordaining it’s exterior. They knocked on the door and to their surprise a tan, balding white man, roughly 60 years of age and naked as the day he was born, greeted them.Chapter 4:He invited them inside and they stared in amazement as they walked into a house filled with model trains. Hundreds of them, filling every corner of the small home. After inviting the ragged visitors to have a seat, he explained he had arrived by accident on the island ten years ago and just decided to never leave. He was passionate about building things (especially trains) and metalworking. For a small price he was able to work and fix their rudder couplings and after chatting for a bit with the odd geezer, they made their way back to their boat.They camped the night at the beach, and unfortunately were once again assailed by the dreaded no-see-ums. As soon as the first beams of light began to spring up the following day, the boat was back in the water and off they went.Hunger was beginning to creep back in. Their dry stocks of food were nearly depleted. Fish had not been biting on the lines. Land crabs were a staple, but it provided few calories in proportion to the exertion they were putting out. Already slender, Doug was beginning to be able to notice his ribs, stretched against his now leathery tan skin.With hours and hours of the same endless stretches of blue ocean that engulfed them, one's mind had a tendency to linger. It was important to try and stay busy, otherwise their attention would fixate on the emptiness in their stomachs and drive them mad.A few more nights passed with quick stays on empty islands. The weather had decided to relent from it’s usual torture, so it was a welcome reprief to get a bit of sun and calm waters.Finally, nearly a week after they had fixed their rudder they stumbled upon the most improbable oasis one could imagine.Chapter 5:Doug and Mike pulled into a harbor and spotted a massive table running along the top of the beach. The longest table Doug noted he had ever seen. “It was 100 feet long” he recalled. Around the table were crowds of people (mostly white skinned tourists), and the tables were packed with every food imaginable. Fresh fish, berries, breads, cheeses.It would be rational, after gnawing hunger for over a week, to assume that this was all a dream. But without missing a beat, Doug and Mike strode over to the table and started to gorge themselves. Making small talk, they quickly realized that they could not have come at a more opportune time. This was a Club Med and the group of tourists who had just arrived were fresh off the plane. Nobody knew anyone yet.Doug and Mike split up and spent the evening meeting new people, dancing to the rhythmic music being played and enjoying endless food and drink. Doug eventually found an unoccupied balcony in the communal area and fell into a deep and restful sleep.The next day Doug began to learn about the currency system at Club Med, which seemed to be built around beads. You exchanged beads for things like beach towels, activities or amenities. They learned how they could win beads through participation at different events. Mike and Doug attended as many possible events as they could. They went for guided hikes, they did inner tube racing in a pool, they played dancing games in the evening. Doug met a girl named Wendy who he became smitten with and they began to hang out more and more.The second evening Doug was sleeping in a shed he had found, next to shovels, paddles, life vests etc. when suddenly he was stirred awake. A GO (one of the employees at the Club Med) had just opened up the shed. Doug stood up and prepared to be thrown out.Instead, the employee launched into an explanation of how he had just been kicked out due to getting in a fight with a tourist. It turns out, as Doug would later find, it was not uncommon to find people sleeping in random spots at the Club Med, what was often called “out on the reg”. This happened because people were hooking up and roommates asked the others if they could be left alone with their new partners for the night. So the GO had just assumed Doug was in that situation. He offered his room up to Doug, saying he had to leave immediately but his room would be open for the rest of the week. Doug accepted the offer with a huge smile. This was his lucky day.For the next few days he and Mike continued to party, feast and celebrate with the other tourists. They held an award ceremony and Doug and Mike won the “Highest Participation” awards for the group. Doug talked with the staff and learned about every other Club Med on their trip trajectory (there were two others).When it came time to finally load the busses and head back to the airport, they slipped away, found their boat that had been hidden, and cast out. Their bellies were full and their spirits were high.Chapter 6:The elation and energy from the last week still pulsed within them for the next few days as they fell back in their standard routine.The scrappy duo would land on a small island, gather sand crabs or other food they could catch, sleep on the beach under the stars and then get back on their way. On a few islands they landed, locals would come up to greet them. They were always curious, kind and helpful and nearly all of them spoke english. They often would share the little food that they had. Doug recalls that they seemed, as a whole, quite happy and content. The kids would often be playing and laughing, the parents engaged and interested in chatting with new visitors.One evening as the catamaran made its way across one of the longer open ocean crossings, they came across a small sand island, roughly fifty feet wide and a hundred feet long. In the center of the white sand stood a small light tower (no more than 10 feet tall), with a flashing light affixed to a scrap metal base that was decaying into the sand. After bringing the boat ashore, Doug noticed the island was teeming with conch.He grabbed some of the pieces of sheet metal that had slid off the tower and working with Mike they built a dome where they could start a fire and make a smoke pit. Doug waded into the ocean and began to gather up the conch.Then out of the corner of his eye he noticed a flash of silver. He paused and observed the dark blue water around him. Nothing. For a fleeting moment it seemed as if something sinister was watching him. But there was nothing there, just a play of an overactive imagination.So he deposited his find and went back for some more. This time, as he swam out a bit further, he felt the water growing dimmer with the fading light of the day. He spotted a conch and as he swam down to get it, he suddenly froze.Chapter 7:Materializing with deadly silence all around him were huge barracuda. Easily four feet or longer. They had long, thick bodies scaled in silver armor. Their mouths, with long, dangerous teeth sat agape as they drew closer.Slowly Doug began to wade backwards in the water. The barracuda followed, with a particularly bold one swimming straight up to his face. It followed him, mouth open, eyes transfixed. Each stroke he took backwards the barracuda drew closer. Finally, when the barracuda was mere inches from his nose, Doug felt his feet hit land. He stood up and abruptly hobbled out of the water. He watched in amazement as the barracuda swayed at the water’s edge, it’s beady eyes seemingly watching him.That night Doug and Mike set up camp on the sand spit and ate smoked conch until their appetites were filled. They did not, however, venture back into the water.The following few days were a reminder of the uneasy dichotomy of their epic voyage.During the day they snorkeled in some of the most beautiful and secluded reefs they had ever visited. Thousands of colorful fish, eels, stingrays and nurse sharks all moved around in harmony. The ocean was vibrant and full of life.Then in the evenings, they were forced to battle the elements and contend with no-see-ums and blood thirsty flies that attacked them relentlessly.About a week after the “island of the conches” they reached a seemingly uninhabited island. They pulled the boat up and began their normal routine of searching for food. They had brought Nylon material and tried to make a crab trap out of it but were unsuccessful.Then suddenly, they heard a loud noise from above the beach sand bank. A vibrating and shearing sound like a chainsaw echoed down.They went to investigate and found a half built wooden cabin sitting alone in the middle of a clearing. Standing over a stream nearby with a mill saw they saw a man and his wife, cutting logs. The caucasian couple, just a handful of years older than Doug and Mike, greeted them. The couple was American, and had decided that they wanted to live off the grid. Doug and Mike stayed for a while and chatted on life, philosophy and politics before striking back out.On one of their next island stops they accidently pulled up on a private island. Within moments of coming up on the sand, two ATV hurled towards them with men armed with rifles shouting at them. Doug calmly explained who they were and the security guards not-so-calmly told them to get the hell of the island. They complied and traveled into the night to try and find the next suitable stop.The following day they arrived at a formal port in Puerto Rico. They showed their paperwork to the harbormaster, and proceeded into the city. They were hungry and tired and several of the store owners pitied them and gave them free clothes. Kids followed them around and asked questions. When Doug told them his name, one of the kids said, “Your name is dog?” which got uproarious laughter from the other kids. For hours they tagged along behind Mike and Doug, watching them and telling jokes. Once it was sundown, they found a nightclub and began to party with some attractive natives from the town. Things were going well until it turned out the natives were in fact prostitutes. Mike decided to go back with them but Doug headed to the beach to sleep. He found a large smooth stone near where their boat was pulled up and he tried to nod off. It was a terribly cold and uncomfortable night he recalled.The next day Mike returned and the two of them bounded off once again. This time they arrived in the Dominican Republic. Because of stories about the country being militant and hostile, they elected to head straight for the military base first, so it wouldn’t seem like they were trying to “sneak in”.Chapter 8:An armed guard with an AK-47 immediately rushed over to their boat as they pulled it ashore. After explaining their circumstances, the guard warned them to be careful of thieves and gave permission for them to proceed into the city.The city itself was industrialized but run down. There was a nervousness that permeated the streets, reinforced at gunpoint by the dozens of military clad police that stood at every street corner. They looked around for food and tried not to make a scene as hordes of young kids began to follow them wherever they went.After exploring a bit and eating they headed back to their boat several hours later. They were amazed to find the same guard with the AK-47 watching their boat diligently. He explained when they returned that there are many thieves and so he wanted to look out for them. They thanked him and asked if he knew of any place to stay. He shook his head. They gestured to the guards quarters he had come out from. Again he shook his head.“If you need, you can sleep in the chicken coup”. Mike went off to find a restspot elsewhere but Doug got his sheet and headed for the coup. As soon as he entered, he nearly walked straight back out. The smell of feces was heavy in the air and as he looked for a resting spot he noticed every inch of floor was covered in it. He placed the sheet down and fought back wrenching as he lay down with a soft squelch. The combination of the smell and the flies made the coup the second worst sleep of the voyage.Following this they made one of their longest crossing of the trip (123 miles), and they traveled into the night. To avoid getting hit by other boats they normally would use a flashlight attached to the mast. The switch, however, was broken, so Doug short circuited the light with a paperclip and got it to work. The makeshift light was able to get them safely to their next stop.As they approached the island they could see a huge volcano towering from its center. Locals rushed to greet them and both children and adults swarmed around the boat to help pull it ashore. The people of this village invited Doug and Mike into their homes and insisted that they stay inside with them.After feeding them a hearty meal, they all slept in extremely close quarters. Because the two family home was already packed to the brim, Mike and Doug and one of the sons slept in the entryway, packed so close together their shoulders were touching other people on both sides.That next morning the locals taught them how to dig for Yams (or some similar rooted vegetable) and took them out fishing. Despite some reservations from the locals, Doug convinced a guide to take them up to the volcano.The heat as they drew closer to the top was intense and long, wafting bands of smoke peeled off and drifted up from beds of molten rock. The sulphuric smell that dominated the air was heavy and off putting. Still, despite the discomfort, there was something unmistakably primal and visceral about the experience of standing amid an active volcano.After a long while, they sauntered back down from the peak and mingled amongst the town folk. It was a recurring theme, it seemed, that everywhere they went they were treated with gentle hospitality and altruistic support. Random strangers, arriving off a boat in tattered, stained garb, were treated as one would treat an old friend. The children seemed happy and carefree.They left with a feeling of warm belonging. It was not Americans and Bahamians in that moment, it was just humans, swapping stories and laughs with gentle ease.Chapter 9:The next island they arrived on had a full port, with vessels of all sizes anchored away. The harbormaster rode over in a small motorboat and checked their papers. He nodded that they could anchor here but informed them that they had to stay on the boat. Doug and Mike looked at each other, then the small strip of tarp that made up the boat and then back at the harbormaster. He gave a short, pedantic tap of his pencil on a notepad and then he disappeared to attend to other boats.After approximately two minutes of deliberation, Doug and Mike bucked the rules and swam to shore. Pulling themselves, soaking wet on to the dock, they made their way into town, leaving a watery trail in their wake.They decided they wanted to watch Rocky, which was playing at a theater but the clerk at the front desk would not allow them in without pants. Doug calmly explained that they had no pants, but the clerk was unfazed.“No pants, no entry” he calmly affirmed. So Doug and Mike headed for the garbage nearby to see what they could find. They ended up taking a bunch of brown packaging paper, and used cord to tie it around their legs.. They returned in their same shorts but their legs covered in packaging paper. The clerk laughed and shook his head,“Okay, sure. Close enough” and let them in. The movie was in spanish but with english subtitles.After leaving this island they were hit with another rancorous storm that rebroke the same aluminum support pillar and forced them again to make an early stop.Once again the island they landed on had an adept repairman, who this time wrapped the break in a new metal piece and welded that around it. That beam held strong for the rest of the voyage but unfortunately, the storm continued to rage and the following day, and after attempting to tack, they turned turtle and flipped. They had stuffed the mast with foam so it wouldn’t fill with water but it filled anyways. Every time they tried to bring the boat upright, the water-laden mast pulled it back down. To make matters worse, the ship was drifting further and further from shore.Doug and Mike were both strong swimmers but they were about to have to make a life or death choice. If they didn’t swim back soon and leave the boat, they wouldn’t be able to make it back.Chapter 10:They decided to stay with the boat. The islands were now shrinking fast in the distance. They tried to turn the boat at an angle to drain the mast. It didn’t work. They tried to steady the boat just temporarily for one of them to attend to the mast but the weight was too much and the boat would always flip to its side.Panic began to slowly build. The harrowing realization that they may have made the wrong choice. There was no turning back now. They had to stick with the boat.Then, just as desperation was beginning to bubble up, they got the mast slightly out of the water and found an angle where it would drain.“Hold it at that angle! Right there Mike!” Doug called, and they both worked to hold the mast at the perfect angle for it to drain, all the while being pounded back and forth by rolling swells.It worked. Once the mast was drained of enough water it sprung upright and they were able to climb back aboard. Doug drew in a deep sigh and laid his head against the tarp. They had dodged death once again.That night they pushed a bit further than usual and landed at another Club Med. This time one of the GO’s saw them sail in and anchor in the bay and they knew it. So when they swam in to shore they immediately worked to disappear into the crowd. The next day they focused on avoiding this employee at all costs, all the while, dining and adventuring with the other guests. A different employee cornered them, the morning after they had arrived and asked them point blank,“Are you guests here at Club Med??”.Without missing a beat, Doug shot back, “What else would we be?”.The GO smiled and walked off. After a night of dancing and partying, the GO they had initially avoided finally found them. But with another freak stroke of luck, it turns out the GO didn’t want to throw them out, he wanted a ride in their Catamaran! He loved the story of their voyage and not only let them stay the rest of the week without bother, he lent them a rope for their boat and let them sleep in the boat room.They left their second Club Med once again with full bellies and feeling energized. For the next several weeks they bounced between islands, weathering the feverous storms and finding shelter wherever the greater powers saw fit.Days began to blend together. Unoccupied islands seemed to mirror each other. Each patch of sand became indistinguishable from the next. The unyielding and eternal ocean crept into the horizon from every angle. With clouds hiding the sun, a sense of time became blurry and uncertain. But they pushed on, using their compass as a guide.Finally, they reached an island that according to the map was their last stop before making the long final stretch to Florida. They rested fitfully on the banks before setting out to an auspicious sunrise.The day started with all the promise of a smooth ride back. The winds were steady, the sky forgiving. It seemed they would catch a break.But then Doug turned around and his eyes swelled. Coming in from the side was a massive storm. Dark black clouds and thunderous rain could be seen bearing down on them like a sandstorm. As it drew near, sucking them closer into its colossal mass, they began to ride its powerful winds. The boat ripped through the water with such speed it seemed to nearly float above the surface.Then in a split second, they were inside the storm, being thrown about like a doll in the grip of a child. They were powerless as water surged over them again and again. The rain was so thick it blocked out all vision. All one could do was grip the boat as tightly as possible and wait.And wait they did but the storm continued to rage unabated, intent on devouring them during their final foray across its waters. Time and time again the boat nearly flipped over but some force of divine providence always laid it back straight. And then, in the blink of an eye the storm passed. They watched as it faded in the distance, carrying its boundless energy down the coast.In its wake they were left in a rare calm. The water was completely still. A shimmering reflective glass that stretched out to the mainland. So they drew out their paddles and pushed through the last few hours to the mainland.And so it was, that the journey ended with them pulling the boat into the docks in Miami, Florida.A 2,000 mile, 3 month journey, with numerous brushes with death and numerous streaks of impossible luck, all creating a once in a lifetime adventure.