This time around, heavy overnight rains rendered some tasks unfeasible, but work nonetheless continued apace on bringing some semblance of order to the fabled resort island.
By the time the first wave of volunteers set foot on the shore, the sun was fully dominant, and only the sodden walls and floors of the main building provided any evidence of the previous downpour.
With leaves and debris collected and even some new planting in progress, a small band headed west to the beach, passing by the former hideaways of the rich and famous, now uniformly in ruins, and the massive concrete basin that awaits resuscitation as the swimming pool.
Machete, weed whacker and chainsaw-armed crews meanwhile set about removing excess branches and limbs adjacent tot he main resort house
this writer then took the opportunity to trek through the dense overgrowth to reach to the honeycomb cliffs at the island's northern end, a vantage that opened up the entire Folly area and the peninsula to the east.
Not unlike some dramatic scene in an adventure movie, of the type Errol Flynn frequently starred in, with the crashing surf, providing the soundtrack.
