To celebrate twenty-five years of wedded bliss, we put much of our normal world aside and returned to the neighborhood where our marital life began. The reality of our life didn't allow us (well, me) to cast aside everything as I still had staff and customers that required "maintenance" - so thru the magic of cellular service and tethering, I was able to configure a remote office with a view overlooking the majesty of Hart Bay. So, while fending off the flying scavenger birds trying to steal a breakfast snack, I was able to plan each day, return phone calls and keep Vox mostly running.
So, here's a bit more detail about the venture:
Driving Miss Daisy
Driving Miss Daisy.
There are certain responses that were developed during our teen years - responses that, during subsequent decades, moved from the cerebral areas down into the brain stem. You know - responses such as... when you see a car driving toward you on a one-lane road, you dive toward the right-hand ditch. Simple driving tasks such as pulling out of a parking lot, or navigating an intersection requires a whole host of significant concentration to overcome these brain stem responses. It was several days before my body stopped sending out a shot of adrenaline every time another motorist approached. The cause of this consternation? It's all summed by the drink/tee-shirt - "Drink right, Drive left". We had several of these at The Tourist Trap - more about that later. The saving grace is that the speed limit in town is 10MPH and on the rest of the island is 20MPH. So, if the reptilian brain control won, at least an incident would be at low speed.
Well over 50% of the vehicles on the island wear the Jeep badge. Almost all of the rentals are Jeep and all are four-wheel drive. The locals are equally likely to drive Suzuki or Toyota - but again, with power to all wheels. Ours was a bright red two-door Wrangler with soft top. It wasn't until day two that we realized the rear seat would flop forward to quadruple the shoe-box sized "trunk" area - allowing space for beach chairs, snorkel gear and the cooler.
St. John roads are modeled after the Bavarian Autobahn system... with a few exceptions. Exceptions like the straight-aways that can be easily measured with a yardstick and the turns will make the compass swing thru 170 degrees at an incline of 30 degrees. We're talking about an incline where walking would be very difficult. These changes in altitude is what make the Jeep product sing - each wheel could be on a significantly different plane without complaint. When cresting the top of a hill, it was often that I couldn't see over the vehicle hood - like when leaving our cottage drive. Each time Sharon had to look out of her door window to be sure no one was coming.
Goat Crossing
Flora and Fauna
It's everywhere! From the iguana getting out of the rain under our porch rail to the descendants of sugar plantation beasts of burden (now feral donkeys). Wild goats and deer, mongooses and lizards. Bugs of every shape and size. Our jaunt down to Reef Bay took us thru tropical forests that looked JUST LIKE the orchid house at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. I wonder how the early settlers made it thru the dense foliage that likely grew back five minutes after you passed. And you've already read about the first aid kits found everywhere in the form of giant aloe plants - some as big as a dozen feet wide.
But the terrestrial critters didn't hold a candle to their undersea kin. Every pond and pool, cove and crevasse was filled with life - most of which spent their existence waiting for the tide to deliver their next meal. I'd have photos of undersea life except that I failed to pack the one item that was assigned to me - my little point-and-shoot camera. Sharon remembered to pack EVERYTHING else, including the waterproof underwater bag for my camera. Alas, I'm a moron.
Kitchen at The Tourist Trap
Fine Dining
In order to keep expenses low, we opted to have breakfast at home and lunch from the deli. So, when it came to fine dining, we were able to go "all out". Keep in mind that we're able to go to five-star restaurants (like The Ott House) at home - so why go so upscale when on vacation? So instead, we opted for the quaint little bistros that dot the island. Like "The Tourist Trap". The photo above doesn't do it justice, simply because it doesn't show the dining room...err...tent. That's it - dining tent. Like the kind that you can buy from Northern Tool to shelter your RV from the ravages of winter. Only The Tourist Trap tent wasn't quite that nice. Held down by five-gallon pails filled with scrap cinder blocks, you sure felt secure under that tent - unless the wind blew. BUT - they DID have a table with complimentary mosquito repellant (dine-in customers only please). Protocol requires that you move down-wind before applying. After a couple of drinks, you may have the need to use the "facilities". Sure - just follow the path to the DOUBLE-WIDE porta-potty. I'm here to tell you, that puppy was big enough to host a square dance. So long as the fiddler stays outside. And be careful on the do-si-do part. The Tourist Trap is the only restaurant that we visited more than once. The atmosphere just kept calling our name.
The other places were great - the barbecue place, the banana deck, Woody's Seafood Saloon, and the one (name? Who knows) where they had acoustic guitarist who sang all of our favorites. We sat therefor hours and nursed our gin & tonics as a "table tax" - the waiter finally bought us one because we were enjoying ourselves so much. Who knows the proper response to "It's up against the wall Redneck Mother. Mother, who has raised her son so well"? Everyone that was in the restaurant that night now knows the response.
Sharon on the steps of a plantation windmill ruin
Island History
The Virgin Islands are volcanic in origin. On our Reef Bay trip, our real destination was the Petroglyphs carved by the Taino people somewhere between 900 and 1500AD. Splash a little water from the spring-fed pool and they're clear as can be.
Columbus "discovered" the islands on his second trip to the new world - and within a century wealthy plantation owners were taming the land, terracing the soil and producing sugar, molasses and rum. The canes were fed into grinders that were powered by the wind. When the wind failed to blow, horses, donkeys and slaves provided the power.
By the late 1800s, the plantations were mostly abandoned - along with the animals that provided fill-in power. Fast forward to the early 1950s when Lawrence Rockefeller had the foresight to buy almost 50% of the landmass of St. John - most donated to the US Government to form Virgin Island National Park. St. John remains largely undeveloped due to the holdings inside the park. The park service has stabilized and maintained access to many ruins on the island, providing a glance at the life of the inhabitants 200 years ago. Untended ruins are quickly reclaimed by the jungle.
Mass
Being a good Catholic, Sunday morning found me at 7:30 mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel church in Cruz Bay. It took only a moment to realize that I wasn't in Emmitsburg any more. It was quite the experience. First, there were generally two groups of folks. The first were the locals - mostly people of color. They were easy to pick out because the ladies all wore dresses and the men all wore ties. And the non-locals, easy to pick out in their shorts and polo shirts.
There are no addresses on St. John. Well, there are PO Boxes, but that doesn't do any good when looking for something. The most apparent reason for no addresses is that there are no street names. The big roads have numbers, but in town it's only "the back street" or "the street where Woody's is" or "just down from Mongoose Junction". And if you don't know where Mongoose Junction is located? Well, it's across from the Visitor Center. Anyway, Sharon happened to notice the church location mentioned on one of the tourist maps.
The sanctuary held maybe 100 people. The interior front had Roman columns and stucco walls with a beach scene painted across the whole front. So, sitting in a pew, you looked out across the bay. I got there early - and faced that dilemma faced by many when visiting a small church. Will I be sitting in someone else's seat? I took a shot and got lucky. Or at least no one asked me to move.
Well, mass began and I soon realized that I'd get the full experience. Before each song an old woman in the front pew would announce the hymn then lead the singing in a voice that had the most unique tambour. And we sang every verse, accompanied only by a steel drum. And EVERYBODY sang. Loud. The celebrant's homily went of for 30 minutes. There was a baptism. All visitors stood and introduced themselves. And we sang some more. Did I mention that this was all at 7:30 in the morning.
Salt Pond Bay
The Vistas
Around every corner there was a fantastic view of some bay. Here is a small percentage of the total memories:
