Just a dreadfully long trip report

[pipanale]

Look folks...I wrote this thing and not even I would read it. It was written one day at a tmie and posted to my blog in that manner. Unfortunately, you get it all at once. Can you post 14000 words all at once?

Let's find out

[pipanale]

Saturday, August 19 2006:

We woke up early (4:00) because we didn’t know what to expect at RDU. This was either going to be very easy or a major pain in the butt. As unhappy as we were about being up early, it was tempered knowing that Christine and Tom were already at the airport in Newark. Delta had done a fine job in rearranging our flights. They had a 6:00 flight to Atlanta. I knew I’d be hearing about this in a few hours. Christine is not big on being awake anytime before about 10:00 while on vacation and this was a major exception to the rule. We got to RDU and had 3 bags to check. The cooler, by far, was the heaviest bag. It weighed in at 47 lbs. I like to be a thorough packer.

We arrived at 5:00 for our 7:00 flight and were checked in and through security by 5:06. So much for the lines being long. I took Susan on the grand tour of Terminal A. She’d only been to the Southwest part and was delighted to see where I spend my weekend evenings. Really she wasn’t, but it was early and we were bored. Finally, time came to board. The plane, thankfully, was mostly empty. We moved our seats to an empty row and I started in with making lewd comments about what we could do once airborne and under a blanket. I was told, ever so politely, to go scratch. We got to ATL a little after 8:00 and made our way across the terminals in the little monorail. We got to the new gate and saw Christine and Tom waiting for us. They’d gotten in a few minutes earlier. All was well. We were all in the same place and ready to head down island.

We placed a quick call to NJ, talked to Jess and then boarded the next flight. Amazingly, it was also quite empty. We split up, boys in one row, girls in the other and took off on time for St Thomas.

Delta kept us wildly entertained by showing the dreadful movie, RV. Boy that was bad. But, it kept me from fidgeting. I studied up for my upcoming fantasy football drafts and before I knew it, we were on approach to St Thomas. I observed that we were awful high up in the air considering where the island and airport were located. Moments later, we nosedived towards the water. In a few minutes, we were bouncing along the runway and were on dry land. We’d made it. We were back in paradise.

We deplaned and walked across the tarmac. Spirit Airlines was already in and American and US Air were landing. The baggage area was going to be crowded. In St Thomas, all the bigger jets land roughly at the same time. They land them, refuel them, and send them out all within a 2 hour span. And, they currently have one working baggage carousel. It was time to start waiting and sweating. We grabbed some free rum punches from an angry lady who kept yelling “I want a tip” and entered chaos-land. I should have taken pictures of the baggage area because it’s a site to behold. Imagine if you will one very tired-looking baggage carousel and 5 planes worth of people standing next to it (a Continental flight had landed in the time that it took us to get there). The people are hot and have been up all day. Most of them do not understand that they are now living on Island Time and the bags will get there when they get there and not a moment before then. I hitched up the straps on my backpack and waited. And waited. It was about 1:20 at this point. The ladies dared a trip to the bathroom and Tom and I split up.

Well, I think Delta pays off the baggage dudes the worst because our bags were the last ones to show up despite being plane #2 in landing order. Other people off the Delta flight were going bonkers over this. I mean, slip them some beer or a few $20’s Delta. Get a move on. I called over to St John and left a message for our greeter (and the owner of the house) Ruth Ellen.

Finally, all the bags were there. Tom’s last bag took a while and I could see that he was getting nervous. It was not 2:15. I quickly mustered the group and told them to haul booty to the taxi stand. I had an idea. I figured that if we were lucky and I used my Stern Voice, I could get us over to Red Hook in time for the 3:00 ferry. This would put us on STJ by 3:30 instead of 4:00. This was a good thing.

St John, for all its wonder, is not a place you just happen to go to. You need to want to go to St John in order to get there. You have to fly to St Thomas, endure the baggage follies and then get on a boat. The ferries run from the main town on St Thomas, Charlotte Amalie (10 minutes from the airport) or from the other side of the island in Red Hook. Red Hook is a 45 minute taxi grand prix away from the airport. From a money standpoint, it’s about the same. Do you want a long cab ride and short ferry or the other way around? The choice is yours.

We detest the cab ride to Red Hook but I saw a chance to get there a little earlier and to start pumping rum into my veins earlier than expected. I corralled a cabbie and asked if he could get us there in time.

“Sure ting”.
“No, I insisted. Make sure you can do it or I want you to take me to town” (I used my Stern Voice again.

We loaded into the van with some other saps who had no idea why I was using Stern Voice and off we went. I hate the ride to Red Hook. It’s a mess. It takes forever and a day. And, unless the whole island looks like this, you go through some of the uglier parts of St Thomas. Finally, we pulled into Red Hook at 2:55. We paid out $58 (why $58? Beats the hell out of me) and got our ferry tickets. We deftly avoided the baggage Rastas. They want to put your bag on a cart, wheel it 7 feet and then charge you money. We learned the hard way last time. No thanks, we were carrying our bags this time. Tickets bought, we loaded the bags on the boat and got on board. We went upstairs and began soaking it all in. We could see St John across the sound and even the cloudy skies overhead could not dampen the mood (holy cliché, Batman).

The ride over was uneventful and we all spilled off the boat in Cruz Bay. Ruth Ellen was right there and we headed her way. We quickly enacted the plan. Susan was to go buy rum and Christine was to secure a seat at JJ’s Texas Coast. That would be our in-town base for the week. Tom and I loaded the bags in to Ruth Ellen’s car and drove to St John Rent a Car. She left us there and went to the house. We got our little Jeep and followed. I took my first right turn like an American and found myself on the wrong side of the road. Oh right…time to get back into St John driving mode. Up the hill we went and we got to Peace O’Heaven, our home for the week. Ruth Ellen greeted us and we went to work unloading the bags. The cooler had sustained some damage but all the food was rock solid. While she talked about this and that, Tom and I shuttled around the house, turning on the AC units in the bedrooms, unpacking, and itching to get down the hill and to JJ’s.

Ruth Ellen owns the house with her partner, Captain Magic. The Capt. Had suffered a major stroke a year ago and they’d been off island for most of the past year. He was improving but had decided that all he wanted was to be back on STJ. The hospital in the States was helping him, but he wanted to be back in the island. I can’t say I blamed him. But, we’d miss his corny magic shows that he had put on for us. Now, scurry along, Ruth Ellen. We need to get to town.

Down the hill we went and we found the ladies on round 2. They had also already devoured an order of conch fritters. They were making up for the past 2 years. Tom and I joined in, and got our hands on the first Caribs of the week. Man, it was good to be back. We ate and drank and then summoned the strength to leave. A quick stop on the way up the hill for staples (like beer, more rum, juice and milk) and we were back to the house. I was in the pool within 1 minute of arriving at the house. I just floated there and took in the view. All the planning, all the craziness had been worth it. We were back on St John for a week. Let the good times roll.

From there, we, as a group, proceeded to drink too much. I kept up a steady stream of cheese, crackers and cold cuts to try to slow down the impending drunkenness but I fell behind. There’s not enough cheese on Earth. By 8:00, Christine turned in. Tom followed her and Susan went to our room. I busied myself cleaning up and taking inventory of stuff in the house. It was funny to see the same damn appliances and utensils from the last visit. I washed up and collapsed in bed at 9:00.

We’d made it.

Sunday August 20,

I was up early because I hadn’t slept all that well the night before. I was still coming down off the excitement of the trip, I was hammered, and I was in an odd bed in an even odder room.

Let’s talk about the house. Before the 2004 trip, like all first timers to St John, I was blown away by the dizzying selection of houses to rent. You have to choose a location on the island. You have to choose amenities. You have to choose size. Pool? Hot tub? And, most importantly, cost. Through my adventures on several message boards, I was guided to Pocket Money Villa. That’s where we stayed. It’s got what we think is a great location, has a big pool and has AC in the bedrooms. It looked good and the price was also nice so we took the plunge and stayed there. After the trip, it was decided that I could stop looking for places to stay, we’d found a little island hideaway.

The house sits on a hill just above the town of Cruz Bay. Cruz Bay is the main town on St John and serves as the main harbor for ferries and commercial vessels. It has most of the restaurants and stores. This is all crammed into a space about 3 blocks deep and maybe a ½ mile wide. From town, you go towards the Centerline road and veer off, straight up the face of a steep hill. You make a left near the top and the house sits just off that side street. Of course, when I say street, I am using the loosest of interpretations of the word. Sure, there are no trees in the way, but it’s unpaved and rather bumpy.

The house is shaped like a right angle. You walk in at the point. Straight ahead is the living room. There are 2 couches and a chair that sit in front of the new TV. There’s a portable stereo hooked and the living room area is wired up for surround sound (new since the last visit). The TV also gets satellite TV. This was a nice addition. Going forward of the living room is a bedroom. This is where Tom and Christine stay. The room is simple enough; bed, dressers, closet and a door to the large full bathroom. All along the inside wall of the living room and bedroom are double French doors opening out to the pool deck. But, back to the entrance. To the left is the dining area/kitchen. There’s a big table and a sturdy enough kitchen. It’s a little old-school, but has everything you need. Walking past the fridge (and the ever-present blast of hot air that comes from its back) is the other bedroom. It’s a little larger than the other and has all the basics. Off of it (looking out on the driveway) is the other, smaller full bathroom. Like the other side of the house, the dining area and bedroom open to the deck. The deck fills in the middle of the angle formed by the house and is mostly taken up by a large pool. One side (the living room side) is under cover and in the shade, and the open side across from it has the lounge chairs and the sun. The pool is large for a villa (or so I think) and quite deep. In 2004, I unknowingly wandered off the bottom step and found myself in water over my head. I’ll add that I kept my beer high and dry the whole time. There’s a grill out there as well as the washer and dryer.

The depth of the pool is not a problem for me, Susan or Christine. For Tom, it poses a whole other set of issues. When he was little, he was washed under while down the shore in NJ and has never really liked the water nor has he learned to swim. In 2004, I found a big inflatable tube in one of the closets, and thus the Legend of the Woobie was born. Tom and his Woobie were never far apart for the last trip. That was fine and dandy at the house, but on our one snorkel adventure, he’d needed a life vest. He never felt happy about how it fit and didn’t really feel confident with it. Taking matters into her own hands, Christine bought him a PFD (personal Floatation Device) for the trip. It looked a bit bulky and excessive (think of what a water skier wears), but Tom seemed happy in it. Watching him gear up to enter the pool was an amusing part of every day. In fact, since he’d never walked off the infamous pool steps, he walked off them later in the week. As he momentarily submerged, the 3 of us watched in a mixture of horror and wonder to see how he’d fared. All was well as Tom bobbed back to the surface.

So, that’s the house. I didn’t sleep well because it’s totally open to the outside. There’s not a pane of glass on any of the windows. You close the shutters and hope to keep most of the hot air out when you turn on the AC. Of course, our AC unit and I have a past. In 2004, I could not get it to work until the middle of the 2nd day down there. We’d spent an utterly sweaty and sleepless night on the island last time. I was not prepared to do that again, so I was very attuned to the noises of the AC. So, all night, you hear the tree frogs, the bugs, the wildlife, the rattling AC unit, and anything else that would wake a lunatic like me up. Plus, there has been an increase of crime on STJ lately, and there have been some attacks on villas. Not that I was worried about it, but at the slightest noise from outside, I was wide awake. Like I said…long night.

I was up before 7:00 and got the coffee started. Trying not to wake up Christine and Tom, I went about my business as quietly as possible. I still had some unpacking and settling in to do. But, what I really wanted to do was get out on the deck and look at the view. The house, as I mentioned, is up on a hill. You can’t see much of town, but you have a great view of the channel that sits between St John and Red Hook, St Thomas. All day, boats scurry back and forth. At night, the sun sets over St Thomas. It’s like staying in a postcard. As I soaked it all in, I was abruptly reminded that “progress” is coming to St John.

BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG

Oh…that must be SirenUSA, the ridiculously large and expensive condo project that’s going up 2 hills to the left.

BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG

Great. And this is Sunday.

St John has been a quiet little place, across the water from the busier St Thomas for years. It still is for the most part, thanks to the Rockefellers, but it’s getting popular. Kenny Chesny hangs out there and people with money are flocking there in his wake. Enormous houses can be seen dotting the hillsides of the North Shore. And since most of the island is a National Park (again, thanks to the Rockefellers), there’s not a lot of land to build on. Where the land exists, building occurs. Projects like SirenUSA are scaring people. Multi-million dollar condos are going up all over the place. They’ll bring cars, congestion and infrastructure problems to this little island. I just hoped the noise wouldn’t be that bad for us. I’d heard about it and was told the worst of it (the blasting) was done.

I went inside, grabbed some coffee and got started vacationing as only I can; I opened up a map. I do love me a map. Susan emerged a little after me, as did Tom. We would not see Christine for a while. I started making up a shopping list. We needed to hit the supermarket. It was Tom’s birthday and we had to get cracking on dinner. Susan had to make her famous potato salad and we needed to bake a cake. Are we insane? You betcha.

Susan and I took the Jeep into town to go to the store. We managed to avoid passing out in the Starfish Market when we saw the prices. When you have to bring EVERYTHING that you consume in on a boat, prices run high. Like over $3 for a head of lettuce. We bought supplies for the week, loaded them into the cooler (ever the Boy Scout am I) and went on a little drive. I was in an exploratory mood. We took the South Shore road up some insane hills and passed the Westin resort. At some point (the road may or may not have been ending) I hung a left up a series of lunatic hills. This is when we realized that the Jeep had 4 bald tires. I skidded out on more than a few of the hills, both in the up and down directions. Mind you, I’m driving an American car, on the wrong side of the road, and these are very steep hairpin turns. I also only had on my flip flops. Not a good idea. I had little control of the brake pedal. I finally made my way back to Centerline Road and we headed down towards town, and missed the turn for the house. Only I can get lost and miss turns on an island with 4 roads. We got back tot the house and Susan started drinking.

Christine was up by now and we settled into our routine of sunning for a while and then hobbling to the pool to cool off. The ants in my pants were, for the meantime, settled.

However, by 3:00, the ants were back. I gathered the crew for our first road trip. It was beach time. We gathered up towels and snorkel gear and headed out. Down to town, right on the North Shore Road and off to Trunk Bay. You all have seen Trunk Bay. If you’ve seen a picture of St John, in all likelihood, it was of Trunk Bay. It’s often named among the top 10 beaches in the world. It’s in the National Park and offers an underwater trail to snorkel along. It’s nice, but can be crowded. We learned that 3:30 was not a good time to be there. By our standards, it was teeming with people. There were maybe 40. But, in 2004, we’d once had the whole place to ourselves, so we were spoiled. We swam around a little bit and I snorkeled out to the trail. I tend to wander off while we’re away so I am instructed to keep a yellow bandanna on my head at all times. It served as protection for my balding head and is a big beacon that shouts out “Rob is still afloat”. I saw some fish and a fairly large stingray. Nothing too exciting. (Listen to me). The rest of the crew puttered around some other rocks and saw some fish.

After about an hour, we were ready to go back to town to JJ’s to start Tom’s birthday fiesta. Settling in at our table, Caribs flowed and conch fritters were consumed. Our waitress form the night before was off so we had a very strange woman waiting on us. She was scary. But, the Yankees were in the process of taking their 4th in a row from the Sox so I cared very little. I made a quick rum run at one point because we’d already wiped out 1 ½ bottles from the night before and we were thirsty. We enjoyed our Cruz Bay happy hour and headed up the hill again.

Tom got to celebrate his birthday, St John style. Like I had done 2 years prior, I grilled up some massively juicy steaks. We had Susan’s potato salad and some grilled vegetables. And we drank. Then we had birthday cake. And then we drank some more. Tom and I had a bottle of wine, and I think we also polished off most, if not all, of another bottle of flavored rum and made a major dent in the regular rum. Our booze consumption was way up on this trip. We felt we deserved it.

Susan and I have been on the run for over a year. Ever since we got back from St John in August of 2004, we’ve been in motion. We got home, decided to move, had her Mother’s Memorial Service in NJ, listed the house, dealt with that mess, packed, moved, had chaos, I started hitting the road, we flooded twice, I seriously hit the road, and now have to deal with my parents’ move here. It’s been a brisk 2 years. We needed a week away from it all and several rum drinks.

Last fall, Tom’s mother passed away. At the same time, his Aunt (in her 90’s) was battling cancer. No sooner than his Mom passed that his father (just turned 90) started really losing it. His wife of almost 60 years was gone and he was lost. He’s got dementia or Alzheimer’s and Tom has become nearly a full-time caretaker for him. He REALLY needed a week off of sun, water and rum.

We’d gotten through our first full day on the island, I’d snorkeled and driven around the rock, and we’d all started relaxing.

Monday August 20.

After another rough night of sleep, I was awake and ready to go. The house seemed to have adopted a stray cat. This little orange colored pain in my butt was named Olive by the ladies. Tom and I had given strict orders not to feed the cat. We’d learn later in the week that, as usual, we’d been ignored. Anyway, some time over night, the cat came bounding up on to the deck over by the washing machine. This, of course, was right outside our room. While coming on to the deck, the cat knocked over half the house, or so it seemed. I shot out of bed, in a panic, because it sounded like someone was outside the door. I peeked out the French Doors and saw the stupid cat looking at me. Pain in the butt cat.

I had some chores for Monday morning to accomplish. After our driving around the day before, I’d noticed that, in addition to having 4 bald tired on the Jeep, one had a nail lodged in it. It wasn’t leaking, but I wholly expected to find myself clinging to a cliff later in the week, changing a tire. I wanted to go to town and get it repaired. I also needed to go pay my respects to the National Park Service office and gather some loot.

I mentioned last time that most of St John is part of a National Park. In the 1950’s Laurence Rockefeller fell in love with St John. He saw that the island was mostly undeveloped and didn’t want it to turn into St Thomas and become over developed. Being richer than God, he bought roughly half the island, including almost all of the North Shore beaches and vast portions of the interior from Cruz Bay on the west side to Coral Bay in the east. He then handed the whole thing to the government and told them to make it into a National Park. They did, and we’re all happy about it. He also built himself a nice little resort at Caneel Bay. If you have $700, you can stay for a night. It’s a lovely place, but way out of our league. The National Park Service operates a large visitor’s center in Cruz Bay and I like to swing in, grab some maps and chat up the Park Rangers to see what’s going on.

Since only I see trekking through the commercial section of town and gathering maps to be fun, I headed out. I went to St John Rent a Car and explained my quandary. They said they could fix the nail pop, but I needed to take the car to the garage side. I need to attempt to describe their building. It’s a small, 2-story building. The lower floor has an office with a counter where you go your paperwork. The other half of the downstairs is their garage/workshop. They’re constantly repairing rented vehicles because it’s very easy to get into an accident on the island. There’s a little parking lane out front, driveways on either side of the building, and a lot in the back. Sounds simple, right? So, why was it hard for me to drive around to the garage? Well, remember those driveways I mentioned? They’re at almost 45 degree angles. The little parking lane? It sits about 8 feet above the road and requires you to drive up the near vertical driveway and somehow shoe-horn your car in to the turn. The parking lot? Higher than the 2nd story of the building. They built a rental car company on the edge of a cliff. To get to the repair side, I needed to be on the right side of the building. But, to get to it, I would either need to drive up to the back and around or go across the island. Why? 1-way street. So, I backed down the street to the right entrance. And proceeded to attempt to back up this 45 degree hill. All the while, Bobby (the repair guy), is giving me the look. The look of “White man does NOT know how to drive”. After about 37 attempts, I had the car up the hill and had the tire lined up exactly as he wanted. Yes folks, Bobby was about to plug the tire on the side of a cliff. I fell out of the Jeep and rolled down the hill towards town.

Having nearly killed myself several times, I decided that I needed a treat. So I went to the town’s smoothie stand and treated myself. Mmmmm Smoothie. I wandered over to St John Spice to see Ruth. I also needed to buy Tom’s birthday gift. We’d decided to get him a gift certificate to the store. He loves several of their products and cooks with them all the time. I met the owner, Ruth, who I’d traded emails with and she took the infamous webcam pictures of me in my YWML shirt. I called a friend and had her forward the pictures appropriately. From there, I wandered to the Park Offices. To get there, you need to walk past the old Commercial Docks. They moved the commercial dock to the edge of town since the last visit, freeing up the town area of all a lot of the truck traffic. It’s always a lovely walk; dodging Rastas and chickens. I got to the NPS offices and grabbed a book, an awesome waterproof map of the island and talked to one of the rangers. She went on and on about the construction both in town and on the hill across from our house. There are definite concerns on the island about where all the people are going to fit once all the work is done. Having satisfied my geek raving, and having allowed time for the car to be fixed, I headed to the house.

I got there in time to be instructed to light the grill and make hot dogs for the crew. After lunch, it was hot and I think I was cranky. I may have taken a nap. Or just had a few drinks. When I came to, I grabbed the women to go back to town. They wanted to do a shopping preview trip and I was bored again. My restlessness was appearing. We went over to Mongoose Junction. It’s a large shopping mall/galleria. They have a lot of clothes and jewelry stores. I scored a sweet Hawaiian-type shirt that was way on sale. Susan saw some cool gecko earrings at R&I Patton, but was torn between the gold and silver ones. We agreed to go back later in the week. We then headed back to town, parked the Jeep and explored some more. We saw some other cool items that we wanted to buy. Since it was hot, we needed beer. We wandered to The Beach Bar and ordered up a few. I managed to see the end of the Yankee game, and delighted in their 5 in a row sweep up in Boston. Returning to the Jeep, we noticed that a truck had parked next to us, but at a funny angle. Backing out was going to be a challenge. We all got in and I started attempting to get out of the spot. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEECH. Well. That didn’t go well now, did it? We went back to the house to assess the damage. Christine got to ride shotgun and finally realized that I was just not a sadistic jerk who wanted to drive over every single bump in the road. The roads really are that bumpy. Reaching home, I noticed that we no longer had a passenger side front blinker. Oopsie. Should have paid that damage waiver.

We waited until nearly 3:30 before packing up and heading to the beach for the day. We’d decided to play it safe again and head to Cinnamon Bay. Cinnamon is probably St John’s 2nd signature beach after Trunk. It’s only one bay over from Trunk but is an adventure to get to. That one bay’s worth of driving includes 2 nasty switchbacks. You take one on the outside of the road (on the left) and the other on the inside. Imagine making a left turn, but finishing the turn about 12 feet above where it started. That’s what it’s like. The ladies, confined to the backseat at all times, do not like these turns at all.

Cinnamon has some services like a snack bar and changing rooms, but they all close at 4. It was nearly 4 when we arrived and the beach was mostly empty. There’s an island (or Cay as they’re called) out in the bay that offers good snorkeling. Susan and I geared up and swam out to the cay. The snorkeling was very good. There were a lot of fish and the coral heads were very colorful. Christine and Tom puttered around closer to the shore. Christine was still feeling out her new gear and Tom was getting more comfortable with his PFD. Js and I really had a good time. I have a lot more experience snorkeling, but she’s taken to it like a pro and we have fun together. Of course, part of my fun involves diving down underneath her and coming up on her out of the depths. This usually makes her scream and me laugh. Then we both nearly drown because our masks flood. Good times. After about an hour, we paddled back to the beach. We packed up, got to drive down the 2 fun-filled switchbacks (one caused the car to loose traction and skid) and went to…you guessed it, JJ’s. Beer flowed and conch fritters…well...were eaten.

We went back to the house, had another swim (to wash off the salt) and had dinner. I grilled up some chicken breasts and some vegetables. We washed it all down with a little less drink than the night before. We had a big day ahead of us. In fact, alarms had been set. We had (GASP) a schedule to keep in the morning.

It was a good day. The 3 of them got to sit by the house for most of the morning. I got to explore town again. We got to our 2nd beach and snorkeled again. One thing I wanted to make sure we did was snorkel more on this trip. But, I’d already seen Trunk and Cinnamon. I was anxious to see some new beaches.

Tuesday August 22

Tuesday was our big day. On the last trip, we’d gone off island to Tortola on my birthday. I got to ride around all day with an ear-to-ear You Know What eating grin because I was in the BVI. If St John is the sundae, heading to the BVI puts the proverbial cherry on top. I got to swim around in Cane Garden Bay, visit Road Town, eat at Pusser’s and see Tortola. It was a lot of fun. However, we way overspent for the day and wanted to maybe rein things in for this trip.

When I set out finding a day trip, I had 2 things to consider. One was the St Thomas cruise ship schedule. On certain day, especially during the winter, like 47 cruise ships are anchored across the way on St Thomas. A good number of the people on board haul booty over to St John because it’s better than St Thomas. In fact, in January of 2000, that’s how Susan and I first got to St John. So, I looked up all the cruise ships that would be in the Eastern Caribbean for the week of August 20 and found that Tuesday was the busiest day. This proves that I am a loser. I could have waited until the sites post the ship schedules for the month like a normal human, but then I would not have known in January. I have no idea why this matters to us anyway. All we do is sit by the house, swim, drink and belch during the hours between 10 and 4. Jesus himself could be on St John and we wouldn’t know. As long as the “tourists” don’t come knocking on our door, we’re fine. But, it seemed like a good day to get away.

The other consideration dealt with destination and price. I wanted to take a boat somewhere but didn’t want to blow our wad. I could very easily have chartered a nice sailboat, hired Captain Ron and have taken us wherever the hell I wanted, but $800 seemed a bit steep. So, I poked around the myriad of sites out there in search of a good destination and boat. Jost Van Dyke kept coming up in my searches. It’s one of the smaller BVIs and has some really cool and funky bars. My life, as I had decided, would not be complete until I got to Foxy’s and the Soggy Dollar Bar. JVD it was. At about the same time, I found Limnos. They run charter trips from the USVI over to the BVIs and, as luck would have it, they go to JVD and are relatively cheap. For $110 per person, you get the boat, snorkel gear, breakfast, lunch and an open bar. Seemed cool to me. However, it was August and they were not running the JVD trips. So, we had to “settle” and go to Virgin Gorda. Susan and I had been there before, but it was a brief trip and we’d wanted to get back. Tom and Christine had not been and liked the idea. There was a throw-in stop at some place called Norman Island at the end of the day and that seemed nice enough. I called them up in early August and booked us to go.

Alarms went off in the house at 7:00. We had to be in town for an 8:30 boat. Christine was not happy at all, but I promised her that she never again had to be awake before 10 for the rest of the week. We got up, mumbled through breakfast and headed down to town. I dropped the crew off at the dock, parked the car across town and hoofed it back just as the Limnos V arrived. Well, since I’m a believer in the expression “You get what you pay for”, the boat’s appearance did not surprise me. I knew we’d selected an inexpensive trip. We had an inexpensive boat. But, I also knew that there was a small group heading out. We’d be OK.

The boat was a battered motor catamaran with an enclosed center cabin/room. It had benches on the sides behind the captain’s seat and a center bank of cabinets. The cabinets were the food table, bar, sink and beer cooler. The back deck was open and had benches along the rails. There was a fully-open upstairs deck. The boat held 70 people and we had maybe 20 on board. I shuddered at the thought of 70 people packed on to the boat. Crowded sardines, I believe, was the analogy I made in my head. The 4 if us took to the back deck and started in on our paperwork. We need to fill out customs forms and hand over our passports so they could get us cleared into the BVI.

We got underway at about 8:30 and headed around to the North shore of St John. Breakfast was served (muffins) and there was plenty of juice…or rum for those interested parties (I was not yet interested). I was giddy as hell as we pulled out of town and got under way. We had a long ride to Virgin Gorda and I’d get to see some of my favorite places on Earth along the way. We passed the North Shore beaches and I rattled them off like a dork and took pictures. (For those keeping score, they’re: Solomon, Honeymoon, Caneel, Hawksnest, Trunk, Cinnamon, Maho and Francis). Off to the left, Jost Van Dyke came into view. I was in heaven. The ride was a bit rough, but not enough to make anyone seasick. The back deck had some shade so it was a very pleasant ride. We veered to the left a little bit and Tortola came into view. We passed the West End and took off across its North shore. After a few minutes, we were across from Cane Garden Bay. Captain Solomon announced where we were and added that Jimmy wrote Cheeseburger in Paradise there (At Stanley’s Welcome Bar I’ll add). Susan looked at me and just said “You could not be happier right now, could you?” What gave my feelings away? The goose bumps, the Ron Burgandy-esque erection, or the familiar You-Know-What eating grin? We pressed on, passing Guana Island (it has a cool rock outcropping that looks like an Iguana head), Beef Island (home of Tortola’s airport) and then VG came into view. We entered the Sir Francis Drake Channel and headed over. The Virgin Gorda Yacht Club in Spanish Town came into view and we slowed down for docking. The ride had been a lot of fun. The weather was great and the folks on board seemed cool.

Virgin Gorda is pretty much a 1-trick island. It has the Baths. The Baths are a collection of huge granite boulders that sit near the shoreline. They’ve formed a series of caves, passageways and cool formations. Other than that, VG has the yacht club and some small hotels. It’s a quiet island without a lot of activity and I NEED to spend some time there. It also seems that I NEED to become very wealthy so I can do all this. But that’s another story. We were herded over to taxis and headed out to The Baths. At this point, the adventure took on a little bit of regimented organization. I was a little concerned, but went along for the ride anyway. The cab ride was uneventful. Susan and I had been hoping it would be hilly. When we’d visited back in 2000, we went across the island and had our bus/cab nearly start sliding backwards down a hill. I was looking forward to seeing Christine’s reaction were that to happen.

We arrived at the Top of the Baths. The views from the restaurant at the top of the hill are stunning. I lack the ability to describe it, but to look at the pictures I took and see for yourself. To get to the beach, you have to hike down a path. Christine was not happy about having to do any hiking; she’d been given a “no-hiking” guarantee from me back in Atlanta. Looks like I’d broken it. The path isn’t that bad. You scramble down a hill for a little over ¼ mile and arrive down at the beach. The beach is smooth and sandy but has these huge boulders scattered all around it. It’s quite cool. The initial beach has a little bar and another pathway to Devil’s Bay. Devil’s Bay is the fun part of The Baths. It’s a secluded beach accessible by either boat or regimented adventure. The group was mustered for the hike over. Christine has a thing about caves and stayed behind at the beach. Susan and I grabbed the underwater camera and one set of snorkel gear and headed out. The trip to Devil’s Bay is a controlled adventure. You walk through the caves and crawl through the nooks and crannies. You climb up rocks, over plankways and up and down ladders. It’s a fun walk and the boat’s crew, Candy and Wayne, were telling us about the formations along the way. You pop out of the caves and arrive at Devil’s Bay.

The water was calm, the sun was out and the water looked nice. Susan and I bounded into the water and swam out to the rocks. Back in 2000, I’d done all the swimming (because I’m a jerk like that sometimes (but am really trying to share more and more as I pretend to mature)) and Susan had not had a good chance to see the sights. We had a great time sharing the gear and swimming in and out of the rocks and the little caves.

Keeping in mind that this was regimented adventure, after like 45 minutes, we had to head back. We all hiked back to the main beach. We met up with Christine who had been sitting at the beach nursing a beer. We hiked back up the hill to the Top of the Baths. The restaurant there has a pool that paying customers can use. Wanting to wash the salt off, I bought us 4 beers and became one. $14.50 and 4 Caribs later, I was able to swim. Ahhhh…fresh water. I had a quick dip, drank my beer, and ran to do some shopping. We grabbed a few shirts and were herded back to the taxis. We bounced back to Spanish Town and had about 4 minutes to shop. We ran into another shop and I procured a Dive BVI shirt and hat. We hustled over to the boat for lunch and the trip to Norman Island. Our regimented adventure had become a little too regimented for me, but who was I complain?

Lunch was simple; sandwiches and salads, but it was good. We were starved and the rolls for the sandwiches were really good. Susan ate a sandwich that looked likely to topple over at any moment. It was nothing fancy, but it was good. The rum started flowing on all decks and everyone was having a good time. We cast off and headed towards Norman Island. We went back into the Sir Francis Drake Channel and passed between Tortola and VG. We passed several of the smaller BVIs and got to see some cool sights. I’m convinced that, one day, we’re going to charter a boat for a week and sail these islands. The seas are calm and the wind blows hard. The sailing is supposed to be unbelievable. You can only access a lot of the beaches and coves from a boat. One day we’ll get there. Once again, I assured the group of this and I got the usual eye-rolling that accompanies my grandiose plans for adventure.

We arrived at Norman Island and the boat just stopped. I knew we would be snorkeling, but my day had suddenly just gotten a lot better. I asked Candy “We going overboard?” She told me we were and I was thrilled. I love hopping off a boat at a snorkel site. I’ve only done it twice before (in Bermuda both times) and was really excited. We geared up and hopped overboard.

Sweet Mary in the morning. The water was teeming with fish. We knew Tom was OK in his life vest and felt good about exploring the area. Norman Island’s snorkeling is known for the caves. There are 3 little caves you can swim into and explore. Susan and I took off towards the reef and the first cave. It was unbelievable. Every color of the rainbow was visible right below the surface. I don’t have the words to describe it other than to say that it was amazing. Hands down, the best snorkel site I’d ever seen. We swam into the 1st cave. It was dark and the water was considerably cooler. We swam out and ran into Norman, the resident barracuda. He’s quite large and has a serious overbite. Cave 2 was cool, but Cave 3 took the prize. It gets shallow near the mouth and then opens back up once you’re inside. Within about 30 feet, you’re in total darkness. It was a very cool experience. The tide was flowing in and out of the cave, the water was cool and you could see why pirates had stashed tons of loot in these caves. Susan and I paddled about for a while more and started swimming back to the boat. We noticed that it was us and Candy left in the water. The rest of the crew and passengers were all waiting for us. So be it. Norman had come over to the boat and was hanging out under the propeller. Lots of teeth. As we got ready to hop back on board, a turtle swam by. That was very cool. There are supposed to be a lot of turtles in the area and we hadn’t seen any on STJ on this trip or the last one. We were very excited.

We washed off and motored back around to the North shore of St John. The rum came out and we all started having a good time. The ride back was great. Smooth seas again and we just had a lot of fun. The trip to Norman Island had been the highlight of the day. It was worth the $110 all by itself. It was nice to go to The Baths, but the snorkeling was just amazing. I could have spent a week there exploring the reef and caves. Plus, we’d have been able to go to the Willie T. The Willie T, as I’ve learned, is a pirate ship that some entrepreneur converted into a bar. Liquor flows and you can dive off the stern into the water. From what I’ve seen, clothing is strictly optional there. Maybe I should stay away. Nobody needs to see that.

We got back to Cruz Bay, cleared customs and trudged to…you guessed it…JJ’s. Our waitress saw us coming and had our Caribs waiting. I ran to grab some more rum and we relaxed at our favorite spot and told snorkeling stories,

We made our way to the jeep, drove up to the house and then really started the party. What happened to me over the ensuing 3 hours is a little hazy. I recall floating in the pool at sunset. I remember showering. Somewhere, I must have drunk way too much rum. Did you know that Cruzan Raspberry goes down like Kool-Aid? I know it does because I drank nearly a bottle of it. I managed to cut up some leftovers and cheese for dinner. How I managed to do that and maintain all 10 fingers is a mystery. I had to basically aim for the middle of the 3 hands and cut. I think I ate but I don’t really remember. All I knew was that at 7:30 I announced that I was going to bed. The last thing I wanted was a hangover the following day and I figured 13 hours of sleep was a good preemptive strike. I stumbled to our bedroom and promptly passed out.

I can’t say what else happened that night. It had been a very full, fun-filled day. There was still adventure ahead of us in the coming days, but I hoped it would be the less regimented kind.

Something is upsetting me. It could be the dearth of comments lately. However, I attribute that to the fact that everyone hates me now because I’m going into painful detail about my trip. I don’t know what the other thing was. Anyway.

Wednesday August 23

I was right. 12 ½ hours of sleep can defeat any potential hangover. I woke up clear-headed. My preemptive strike of going to bed early worked. I was awake and ready to have fun. Needless to say, the rest of the crew did not necessarily share in my enthusiasm. This was the case mainly because it was hot. Now I know we were in the Caribbean and hot is expected, but hot was being redefined. Haze had settled in over the island. We could barely make out St Thomas from the deck. This was haze that would have made New Jersey jealous. Couple that with tropics-strength sun and oppressive humidity and you had the makings of an ugly day. Did I mention how hot it was?

We settled into our seats for a vigorous morning of nothing. Tom drank his coffee and sat under the overhang, serving as the breakfast buffet for the island’s supply of mosquitoes and no-see-ums. I picked up a book and headed for the sun deck. Christine and Susan followed me to the sunny side of the pool. The 3 of us lined up and started to complain about the heat.

A little before 10:00, I announced that it was Adventure Time. I wanted to hit a trail and do some low-grade, low-effort hiking. I wanted to do it simply to say I’d done it. St John, as you can imagine, has a lot of trails. The Park Service maintains some of them, and people with machetes maintain some of the others. They range in size from pretty much here to there to several torturous miles. One large trail, the Reef Bay Trail starts pretty much in the middle of nowhere. It roams down through the middle of the island and lands at, you guessed it, Reef Bay. Reef Bay is home to St John’s infamous petroglyphs. I’d like to someday hike that particular trail. I get the feeling I’ll be soloing it that day. You have to sign up at the Park office and go on an escorted trip. The end of the trail is at the water’s edge, so a boat comes to get you to take you to town. All in all, the hike takes like 6 hours. Like I said, when the time comes, I’ll be soloing it.

In 2004, I’d led Susan and Tom on what we now call the St John Death March. I dragged us along Leinster Bay. It’s at the water’s edge and offers no shade. I think it was 400 degrees out on the day that we went. The views are nice, and if you walk a little farther, you get to Waterlemon (not a typo) Cay. Waterlemon apparently offers some of the best snorkeling on the island. But, you either need a boat to get to it or the desire to hike an hour each way to reach it.

Tom made is clear that he was not up for any hiking and stayed at the house. So, I grabbed, Susan, the gear bag and some water and headed out. I had picked a simple trail, the Lind Point Trail. It goes from the Park offices around the southwestern tip of the island and ends at Solomon Bay. From there, you hike to Honeymoon Bay and then on to the Caneel Bay Resort. It’s not long; a little over a mile, and from what I’d read, all in the forest.

We drove to town, parked the car, and walked right past the Park office and to the North Shore Road. We started up it and saw a trail head. Unfortunately, it was for the Caneel Bay Trail, a 2.4 mile trek up a mountain. Already I’d led us in the wrong direction. Backing up, we went to the Park offices and found the right trail head behind a dumpster. The book, Feet Fins and 4-Wheel Drive told me that we’d start by scrambling up a hill. Right. By scramble, do you mean “climb a small cliff?” Because that’s what we did. I was already in trouble. Having scaled the hill, we were on our way. Have I mentioned how hot it was? The trail, thankfully, was in the forest. This was good because it offered shade. It was bad because it failed to offer a breeze or a view of anything but more trail and scrubby trees. It also offered bugs. Oh yea, this was fun. At one point, we heard something come bounding down the side of the hill to our right. Thinking the island’s version of Michael Myers was coming, we stopped. No, it was not a serial killer, it was a deer. It looked us over and walked down the path. Well, at least we’d seen some nature. After what seemed like hours of walking, we saw a sign for Solomon Bay. We made a left, wend down the hill, and found a beach. It was very nice. Solomon’s the first beach out of town, but the only way to get there is to take a boat or the Bug Trail. We had the place to ourselves. We dropped the bag and waded into the water. Oh baby, that felt good. Our peace was broken like 3 minutes later by another couple. How dare they? We’d reserved the beach for ourselves! They went to the far side of the bay and set up camp. We swam around a bit, but the side we were on offered no snorkeling. After a while, we packed up and started back to the trail.

We got back to the main trail. I knew we had to round a corner and then go back down the hill to Honeymoon Beach. We walked on a bit and saw another turn-off on the left. Assuming it was right, we took it. We walked down the hill, dodging trees and rocks. We popped out of the canopy and saw the couple from a few minutes ago. I’d successfully led us on a 20-minute trek that we could have accomplished by simply walking the length of the beach. Good going, Magellan. We went back to the main trail and walked on. Finally, we saw another turn-off and headed down. Thankfully, this led us to Honeymoon. We popped out of the trees and saw that it was “swarming” with people. In 2004, Susan and I had come here early one morning for a snorkel and some extra curricular activities and had been alone on the beach. Now, there were maybe 20 people. This was unacceptable. There were also a few charter boats moored out in the bay. But, we’d come all this way, so we parked and got the gear out. Honeymoon offers decent snorkeling and we planned to take advantage. We paddled out to a rocky/grassy area and had a good time. The sun wasn’t out too much so we avoided getting sunburned.

We headed out of the water, got dressed and took the path to the Caneel. Immediately, we were out of place. I mean, people who go there on vacation wear shoes! We looked like 2 wet rats. Trying to remain inconspicuous, lest we offend the local gentry, we made our way to the taxi stand. We hailed a cab and rode back to town. We were not walking back.

Arriving in town, we were hot, tired, thirsty and hungry. We staggered over to a nameless barbecue stand that’s near the old commercial docks. It looks like hell, but always smells good. Plus, many of the taxi drivers seem to get lunch from there. How bad could it be? We placed our order and I ran across the street to Cap’s, one of the local dive bars, to procure beer. 2 minutes later, I was back across the street procuring more beer. I was also offered the chance to buy weed form a dude with a very impressive pile of hair on his head. Politely refusing, I went back to lunch. Naturally, our order was messed up. But, it hardly mattered. We had ribs and chicken and it was unbelievably good. We chatted with the 2 women who work there and had a nice time. I should have taken a picture of this place because it looked like a dump. But, as is always the case, if the locals eat somewhere, it’s bound to be good. The ribs and chicken were cooked to perfection and the sauce was delicious. Since we were about to become one with our chairs, we headed out. We ran into St John Spice again for some seasonings and sauces and headed up the hill to the house.

Upon arrival, I think we both flopped into the pool with our clothes on. It was too hot to do anything else. The rest of the day was spent lazing at the pool. I was in no rush to go back out to a beach and Christine and Tom didn’t seem to mind. At some point, we went back to town for the obligatory Caribs and Conch Fritters at JJ’s. We wandered town for a little while and went back to the house. I grilled up some pork chops and we ate in the stifling heat of the house.

After dinner, it was still hot, so we just sat around playing cards. I busted out the headache helmet again and was sternly mocked. You may have seen pictures of the headache helmet. I’m not wearing a turban or a diaper on my head. It’s a bandanna with an ice pack wrapped into it. Mock it if you must, but it kept me somewhat cool. We all turned in at about 9:00. It was just too damn hot to stay out in the living room. We were praying for rain or a breeze to lift some of the oppressiveness out of the air.

Thursday August 24:

Well, if we thought Wednesday had been hot, Thursday wanted to make sure it could show its teeth to us. The haze was officially at NJ-levels. St Thomas was invisible. We knew it was there, but it was shrouded in a thick haze. In fact, all week, it seemed to have been cloudy on St Thomas. St John was bathed in sun all week, but clouds kept forming up on the hills across the sound. The weather over there, from our view, looked dreadful. But, that’s what you get if you vacation on St Thomas. As a guy on Tuesday’s boat said to me when I asked if they were staying there or on St John, “You couldn’t pay me to stay there. They do have a nice enough airport though.” He summed it up well for us. It’s a nice enough place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to stay there. Do I sell St Thomas short? I’m sure I do. All I’ve seen of it is the shopping mayhem of Charlotte Amalie and the dreadful cab ride to Red Hook. Know what? I’ll stick to St John. I like it better there.

Anyway, Wednesday evening, I had asked Tom what we were doing the following day. Christine looked on in horror at the thought of another one of my crazed adventures. He announced that we were going to the far eastern end of the island to see what was there. 2 years prior, we’d gotten as far as Coral Bay (the only other place that passes for a town on the island), but headed south at that point to a few of the southeastern beaches. He then announced to Christine “You two are getting rubbed tomorrow.” She was confused (I could see why considering her background as a religious terrorist, she could have construed that to mean “getting rubbed out”). I added that I had booked the two ladies massages.

“We’re getting massages?” (Eyes lighting up like…really bright things)
“Yup. I booked it all and 2 women are coming to the house tomorrow to give you two massages”

Christine no longer cares whatever the hell the two boys had planned; she was getting a massage. Susan was also excited (but she’d been in on the planning and was not surprised).

Back in 2004, I’d coined a term for our group. I described my experience booking the trip as using “word of keyboard” to find things. It’s like word of mouth, but different. I haunt 3 USVI-related message boards on a regular basis. They’re teeming with info on restaurants, on-island services, local news, etc. I’d used the boards to book the house, find the rental car agency, find restaurants, and learn about the island. The businesses on island must rely on the boards, because one slip and a place gets immediately black listed. It was a lot of fun to book it that way. I made a few pals in the process. I have an internet buddy from Boston who referred us to the house, 2 here in NC (one who convinced me to use Limnos), and 2 who live on the island. It’s a lot of fun. So, when I decided to look into massages, I did my research and then hit the boards to solicit opinions. That’s how I found Massage St John.

A little after 10:00, Tom and I took off from the house. He was driving this time. Last time, I did all the driving (except for the outgoing leg of our boys-only adventure). I’d heard grumbling that I was a wheel hog and was going to offer up the driving whenever I could. Well, I made the offers this time but Tom didn’t seem very interested. The 4 bald tires and the Jeep’s proclivity towards skidding out had a lot to do with it I think. As we bounced down our hill, we saw the masseuses coming up the hill.

We set out across the interior of St John on Centerline Road. It’s an ugly road. The first half of the trip to Coral Bay is outside the park boundaries, so it’s where the island has crammed in a lot of what passes for its industry. So, instead of looking to the left and seeing the North Shore beaches, you look around and see trucks, lumber yards, quarries, sewer plants, and other essential things. Plus, the road is crazy-hilly. I don’t much care for it. A lot of the locals live out on the eastern side of the island so this is the main traffic road. So, it’s unfamiliar for us and very hilly, and we have to share it with local trucks and “commuters”. I don’t like Centerline Road. But, we made our way up into the island. We had to stop at the designated spot to dodge Mr. Moses’ herd of cattle. His cows know that they own the road and you basically stop and let them do their thing. In 2004, we’d come across them from the other side. I vividly remember rounding a blind curve (what other kind is there?) and seeing a large cow fill the view out the windshield. This time, we were ready.

Leaving the cows in our wake, we headed down the other side of the mountain and into Coral Bay. This is the side of the island where you go if Cruz Bay is too busy for you. I firmly believe that if you took a person from this part of the island and put them on the NJ Turnpike, they’d explode. To say life is more laid back is a major understatement. We blew through town and continued on the same road (now known as the East End road). I was spouting facts all along the way about this or that bay and what had happened here 200 years ago. Tom was driving at what I considered t be white-knuckle speeds (he was going 30) and had one hand on the “Oh CRAP Handle” at all times. We drove past some nice looking beaches and passed Vie’s Snack Shack (unfortunately closed). Finally we got to the end of the road. We knew it was the end because a large concrete wall was in the middle of the road and a sign said “Route 10 END”. 3 guys were standing there. I think their job is to tell idiots like us that this is indeed the end and that it’s time to heads back. This part of the East End is also outside of the park so there’s a lot of building going on. The houses that are going up are enormous. I know all building there is expensive, but these have got to be houses that are topping $10 million easily. And, they’re built on the face of cliffs. Imagine it; a 12,000 square foot mansion that is literally screwed into the side of a hill. That’s what you’d see. It’s amazing enough to consider that houses are built there. Then, when you see an earthmover up there working, you just shake your head. Here’s how it works; you buy the land. You clear the road/driveway. You clear the house’s lot. You build. It’s astounding.

We bounced back the other way and stopped in at Hansen Bay. I grabbed my snorkel and took a quick dip. The snorkeling was nice but there were a lot of urchins. Tom stayed on the beach but was happy to see me return. Apparently, the bugs that normally haunted him at the house had cousins. He was being devoured. I dried off and we went into town. I’d wanted to get to Skinny Legs for one of their famous burgers. The bar was everything I’d hoped it to be; an assemblage of 2x4’s holding up a tin roof. There were some tables, a big bar and a lot of odd-looking people. This is where the ex-pats hang out. Skinny Legs is a real version of the Coconut Telegraph. It’s where people come to check back in once they get back to the island. I imagine that I could drop off a box addressed to any one of you and if you showed up next summer, they’d have the box there at the bar and would happily hand it over to you. It’s that kind of place. I’d made a big breakfast at the house, so we ended up splitting a burger. Damn. That was a tasty burger. I did the obligatory souvenir shopping and took the wheel for the ride home.

We decided to go back along the North Shore. I got us lost trying to find Francis Bay and ended up on a 1-way, unpaved trail. Reversing course, we made our way out. We stopped briefly at Leinster Bay to see the scene of 2004’s crime against humanity. Tom was in no mood to hike it again. We bounced back to the house and arrived in time for Christine to yell at me “Light the grill. I want lunch”. Welcome back to Earth. The ladies had thoroughly enjoyed their massages. Christine apparently carries a lot of stress in her butt. The masseuse had spent a lot of time working on it. Susan and I think it was more because she liked it. We settled in for an afternoon of nothing.

After a while, Christine announced that she wanted to snorkel. OK…out came my maps. We hadn’t been anywhere new yet so I wanted to hit a new beach. Maho Bay looked intriguing. It offers good shallow-water snorkeling in a grassy environment. All the books I’d read promised turtles. We loaded up and took out to the beach. Since Maho has no facilities, you basically park off to the side of the road in some hollows that people have either cut out or used their Jeeps to make “parking spaces”. We dismounted and hit the beach. I was immediately in trouble. The place where we parked looked nice enough, but offered no wildlife at all. The group was not happy. Noticing some rocks off on the far left of the bay, I swam over. I found the fish and swam back to the group. If they were willing to come out of the water and walk the length of the beach, they’d be rewarded. We tromped over and swam to the rocks. It was very cool. There was no coral and the fish were less vibrant in color, but there was a lot to see. We saw a flock (?) of squids. That was very cool. I’d never seen a squid in the wild. Finally, after a while, we hit pay dirt and saw a turtle. Very cool. We’d seen one at Norman Island, but this one was really in the wild. We stayed in the water for a while and had a real good time. As we left, I warned the group of the trip to the car. As I mentioned, you park in the trees. At dusk, the bugs apparently come out. We no sooner hit the beach than our legs were on fire. Like a bazillion bugs descended upon us. Christine began swearing at me. We barely dried off, threw on some clothes, tossed all the CRAP in the jeep and took off…in the wrong direction. Remember, it was me driving. I finally got turned around and we headed back to town. For fun, it was getting dark and starting to rain. Need I say that the Jeep’s windshield wipers only worked a little bit?

We made it back to town and had our obligatory drinks and snacks in town. But, we were still salty and smelly and just wanted to get back up the hill. We got to the house, poured a few more drinks and sat by the pool as the sun set. We all showered, had some leftovers for dinner and just chilled. We’d all had a very good day. The ladies had been pampered, I got to add 2 new beaches to my snorkeling list, the boys had gone on an adventure, and nobody had been killed by the bugs.

The week was winding down, but I was getting antsy to get back home. It was just too damning hot.

Friday August 25:

Our last full day on the island had arrived. I’ll be honest; I was ready to go home. I really hadn’t slept well all week and it was still too hot. The house had lost some of its charm and had become a humid death trap.

We didn’t have much planned other than one last snorkel trip and a trip to town to do some shopping. We’d picked up a few things during the week, but needed to do some more shopping. The morning was still hazy and evil and we didn’t do a whole lot of anything.

Then, a miracle happened. A breeze picked up. The haze blew away. St Thomas was visible again. We all had a spring in our step. As a result, we did absolutely nothing about it. We stayed at the house and did the old “Read, Flip and Dip”. I must have made something for lunch because I seem to recall eating. But, it was mostly quiet. Some time after lunch, I was standing up on the benches on the deck watching cars go up and down a distant hill. I grabbed my Mr. Dork fanny pack and announced that I was going for a ride. Susan agreed to go along. We went back to town and drove up Contant Hill. It’s a more residential neighborhood on the eastern side of the town and afforded a different view of town and of our house. We puttered about a bit and looked at some new sights in town.

When we got back to the house, it was about 3:30, so I mustered the crew for one last drive over to the North Shore. Christine had voted that we go back to Trunk Bay. We weren’t really in the mood for any hiking, and Trunk, when empty, is a cool snorkel spot.

We hit the beach as all the day-trippers were leaving and there were maybe 30 people there. We geared up and headed to the right side of Trunk Cay. It’s the less-popular side, but I’d read about Charlie the barracuda who is often seen there. We had the side of the island to ourselves and I did manage to spot Charlie. The reef isn’t as colorful

[RickG]

What's the URL for you blog?

Cheers, RickG

[liamsaunt]

I think your report got cut off. Please post the rest! I'm looking forward to reading it...I've printed off what you posted so far to read later at a quieter point in my day.

[pipanale]

I can't post the blog address. It's in no way suitable for all tastes and I don't want to be drummed off the board for being a potty-mouthed idiot with the maturity of an immature 12-year old boy.

It did get clipped. My apologies: Here's from Friday morning:

Friday August 25:

Our last full day on the island had arrived. I’ll be honest; I was ready to go home. I really hadn’t slept well all week and it was still too hot. The house had lost some of its charm and had become a humid death trap.

We didn’t have much planned other than one last snorkel trip and a trip to town to do some shopping. We’d picked up a few things during the week, but needed to do some more shopping. The morning was still hazy and evil and we didn’t do a whole lot of anything.

Then, a miracle happened. A breeze picked up. The haze blew away. St Thomas was visible again. We all had a spring in our step. As a result, we did absolutely nothing about it. We stayed at the house and did the old “Read, Flip and Dip”. I must have made something for lunch because I seem to recall eating. But, it was mostly quiet. Some time after lunch, I was standing up on the benches on the deck watching cars go up and down a distant hill. I grabbed my Mr. Dork fanny pack and announced that I was going for a ride. Susan agreed to go along. We went back to town and drove up Contant Hill. It’s a more residential neighborhood on the eastern side of the town and afforded a different view of town and of our house. We puttered about a bit and looked at some new sights in town.

When we got back to the house, it was about 3:30, so I mustered the crew for one last drive over to the North Shore. Christine had voted that we go back to Trunk Bay. We weren’t really in the mood for any hiking, and Trunk, when empty, is a cool snorkel spot.

We hit the beach as all the day-trippers were leaving and there were maybe 30 people there. We geared up and headed to the right side of Trunk Cay. It’s the less-popular side, but I’d read about Charlie the barracuda who is often seen there. We had the side of the island to ourselves and I did manage to spot Charlie. The reef isn’t as colorful on the right side and the water was oddly cool, so we swam around to the more popular left side. The underwater trail that I had mentioned is on this side and the reef is very good. The 4 of us were all in one general area, but were off in our own worlds. Since Susan and I didn’t have flippers, I actually found maneuvering to be a lot easier. I was able to float in through some real shallow sections to get to more secluded pools and caves. It really was a lot of fun. Every now and then, one of us would pop to the surface and beckon the others over to see something of interest. As we were starting back to the beach, we hit pay dirt again. There was a lone sea turtle having dinner next to one of the reefs. We just hung there for a while watching it eat. At one point, it surfaced to breathe and was about 2 feet from me. I’ve got to say that the sea turtles were the snorkeling highlight of the trip. The fish are very cool and the coral growths are unbelievably bright, but the turtles were just awesome. And we’d seen 3!

As the clouds rolled in, we packed up and went back. By the time we were about half way back to town, it was pouring. We decided to pass on JJ’s and just head to the house. We arrived right in time for an all-out deluge. It poured for about an hour. So, we all got cleaned up and dressed and then went back to town. We had shopping to do and needed something for dinner. I’d finally run out of food. We hit Freebird Jewelers and picked up some loot. I got another pukka-type necklace and some pirate treasure for Jess. The kid had managed to score 2 pirate shirts, a treasure map and now some “authentic treasure”. Susan had wanted a petroglyphs bracelet and I’d been arguing with myself all week whether or not to get a St John Hook bracelet. Part of me thought it was cool; the other thought it was gay. I decided it was cool and grabbed one.

The bracelets are famous on St John and most of the Caribbean. The story is that fisherman stopped wearing wedding rings out of fear of losing a finger if lines or hooks or fisherman things got snagged on a ring. They took to wearing the bracelets. They have a hook clasp, and in the beginning, while at sea, you pointed the U-hook’s open side off your wrist to send your love home. When in port, you switched it because your love went back towards you and your home. Now, they’re dating symbols. Hook towards you = you’re attached. Hook out = “Buy me a drink and I’ll blow you”. So, I have a hook bracelet. I like it.

We hit St John Spice yet again and loaded the car up and drove across town to Mongoose Junction again. Susan had seen some earrings in a store there and wanted to pick them up. I also figured the chances of finding a place to eat for under $35 per person was higher there. Well, the store was closed. Then, we decided to go to Morgan’s Mango. I’m still not sure why we did that. We’d gone there in 2004 and really liked the food. But, the service was just appalling.

They failed to disappoint this time out. Our waiter didn’t know the specials or how to pronounce tough words like “scallops”. Tom ordered a glass of red wine and they brought white. When we sent it back, they never came back with another glass. I finally grabbed the waiter and asked for the wine. He brought the white again. Tom was ready to burst into flames at this point. Finally, we got the wine and our food. As usual, the food was very good. Susan and I split half a chicken and a grilled shrimp salad. It was simple and very good.

Sated and still wondering why we’d eaten there, we went back to the house, did a little packing, drank some rum and all went to bed. Saturday would be a hectic day and my stomach was already churning in anticipation.

In fact, because that was short and sweet, let’s talk about Saturday now.

Saturday August 26.

I woke up nauseated. What a surprise. The heat and haze was back and I was all a twitter over the upcoming festivities.

Now, I had written a week ago that you have to want to get to St John. The effort is rewarded. Only thing is…you have to go through all the same effort just to leave. And leaving is not fun.

I’d decided that we needed at least an hour from the dock in Cruz Bay until we’d be at the airport. Our flight was at 2:45. I also knew that if you get to the airport the recommended 2 ½ hours early, you’re in for a lot of pain. All the jets arrive at the same time, and leave an hour later. So the airport has everyone checking in at once. And, the airport is a little rustic and is definitely on Island Time.

I had spotted an 11:00 ferry to town. That would get us there by 11:50 or so. We’d have time to go into town, find a bar, get a drink and some lunch and wait the crowds out at the airport. I thought we could have pushed it and left at noon, but Tom was a little antsy to not be late and we took the 11:00.

We packed up the house and started to town at about 10:00. I say started because this took 2 trips. I had to drop all the people and then go back for the bags. I drove to the rental agency and checked in and told them about the busted blinker. I filled out an accident report and told them I’d be back in an hour.

We walked back to Mongoose Junction to get Susan her earrings. They’re silver geckos that hang off of her ears. The tails are the post-things and they’re quite fun. Christine got some other crap and we went back towards the center of town. We did some other last minute shopping and then went to the dock. I got the Jeep, drove to the dock, got hollered at by the cabbies, dropped the bags and went back to the rental agency to get my beating. Bobby, the guy who had patched the tire, was there. The woman behind the counter gave me the speech that they could not close the Amex account until they’d found the extent of the damage. Bobby yelled at her and told her to charge $20. $20! I could have kissed him. It would have cost me more to do it myself. They could have ripped me off, but didn’t. I thanked them profusely and told them I’d be back.

Since I was hot and ready to puke, I treated myself to another smoothie. Mmmmm…smoothie. The crew was at the dock, sweating and waiting. Then the rain started again. Then the 11:00 “ferry” arrived. If you look at the flickr shots of me on the webcam, you’ll see the main ferry. That’s what we’d taken to get to St John. Well, to get to town, there was this tiny orange boat, no larger than a large speedboat. This was going to be fun. I ran through the rain to a store next to JJ’s, grabbed a bottle of rum and s fun shirt for myself and went back to the dock. We only were taking 2 bottles home with us. We were assured that they could box the liquor and it would be fine on the plane. Honestly, I didn’t need the hassle of worrying if it would break. I wrapped the bottle in a suitcase and we got on the SS Minnow. Well, we were expecting a 50-minutue ride. We were pleasantly surprised to realize that a NASCAR reject was driving. We got to town in just over 25 minutes.

We got to St Thomas and again remembered why we don’t like it. Cabbies and merchandise hawkers descended upon us like flies no a steaming turd. We fought through the crowds and found a bar along one of the many crowded alleys. We pulled in with all of our crap and collapsed. Of course, Christine had picked a place that had just opened and seemed to be run by morons. I was still quite ill-feeling but knew I needed to eat. We all got some beers and had lunch. The owner/waitress just kept talking. All I wanted was to take a nap, but she would not shut up.

Finally, at 1:00, I decided it was time to head out. We got back to the taxi stand, hailed a cab, and were on our way. We arrived at the airport to find it mostly deserted. I’d planned well. Everyone was inside. We checked in, got our boarding passes and got on line to go through security and customs. I had nothing to declare (other than War on Canada), so we breezed through and got on the suitcase line. There, a large woman was yelling at everyone. I think you’re supposed to tell her what flight you’re on and then she decides just how far she throws your bag. Christine was not confident she’d ever see her bags again. I didn’t care. The food had done its thing and I finally felt well again. Plus, the airport was air conditioned. We got through security and entered the gate room. Holy moley. It was packed. The food counter had a line that was way too long. In 2004, I’d waited for 40 minutes on that line to watch 3 people get served food by a one-handed, one-eyed cook. There had to be 50 people on line. We were VERY happy we’d gone to the Morons’R’Us bar and eaten. It was almost 2:00 at this point, so we settled in and watched the chaos unfold. Finally, we boarded and got on the plane. Since this is a ghetto airport, you have to walk across the tarmac to board. Well, I guess Susan was not following the rules because as we walked over, a woman with a badge got in her face.

“Walk in the yellow lines! Is there a reason why you’re ignoring me?! I told you to walk in the lines!”

Mind you, there are 5 fully-loaded 757’s within abut 50 feet of us. To say t hat it’s loud is an understatement. Susan looked dumbfounded and muttered an apology.

“Why are you ignoring me?!?!” screamed the lovely woman.

I had to make a decision. So I yell back something like “Because you’re black.”? Maybe: “Because you seem to be a bitch.”? Susan continued to look on dumbfounded and said something about it being really loud and that she wasn’t ignoring her. We were scolded again and walked, within the lines I’ll add, to the plane.

On board, we settled in and got underway. They showed a dreadful movie and served the same horrid snacks. But, the flight was smooth and the plane was air conditioned. For the first time in a week, we were not sweating. It was nice.

We got to Atlanta and had to hustle. Susan and I had only 40 minutes to connect. And, of course, we were at the last gate on our concourse, and had to go clear across the whole airport to get to our new gate. We scurried to the monorail, got on, said quick goodbyes to Christine and Tom and got to our gate. We had time enough to pee and change our seat assignment and then it was boarding time.

The flight to Raleigh was very easy and we were back in NC on time. We got our bags, got in the car, hit a supermarket on the way home and went home. We had a drink and a snack and went to bed. It had been a fun week, but it was time to be home.

Well, that’s it. I’ll send a list of links next week for all the places I mentioned. I’ll also get back to telling tales form the neighborhood. There’s been a lot going on.

Thanks for listening.

[VaDavid]

When we got to St. John Spice Ruth told us that we had just missed you. Hopefully we can meet down there sometime.

[VaDavid]

When we got to St. John Spice Ruth told us that we had just missed you. Hopefully we can meet down there sometime. I see that you flew out of Raleigh, where do you live? I am in Raleigh about once a quarter for business, so let grab a drink sometime.

[Coden]

Dang!! What a report!! It took me 4 times to open and read, I didn't want to miss a second of your trip so would read until someone interrupted me, like my boss at work or here at home, my family wanting dinner Ha! and would come back when I could read some more. You all sure packed in a Lot of Fun in one weeks time. I was cracking up, rolling in my seat here reading some of your tales. Now I am even more afraid of driving than I was before. I really have no idea how I am going to do it. Yikes!!

Thanks for taking the time to write such a long and in-depth report. I enjoyed it greatly!!

[Xislandgirl]

wow, that was long, but I enjoyed every minute of it!

Thanks.

[pipanale]

Thanks.

Thanks for taking the time to read it all.

Over the past 18 months or so, I've done a lot of writing on my blog (which I'm afraid to share with the good people here...PM me to get the address) and this was a challenge. 2000 words a day for 7 days is a lot of writing. I'm happy people have liked it. It was more a homework assignment than anything else. I kept myself up at night mentally composing certain sections of it.

[Diana2]

I don't know about everyone else but I'm EXHAUSTED! It was fun (albeit exhausting) to tag along on your island adventure. That Bar-B-Q 'dump' across from Cap's is Uncle Joe's Bar-B-Q. Everybody eats there not just the 'locals' because it's that good.

Are you the purple faced wacky lookin' guy on the BVI Travel Talk forum?? (I read that forum too.) I have a funny feeling that the answer is "Yes".

[Jan&MikeVa]

I enjoyed your report, took a little time to read but it was great! Sounds like a relaxing week, with a little exploration. You're a brave guy to run around the island with bald tires, ugh.

A question for you though, what store did your wife get the gecko earings? I have some of the same style, but different animals. Would love one of a gecko.

Thanks again!

Jan (aka Charlie)

[pipanale]

Diana2: Yes. But I prowl the USVI forum over there more often.

Jan&Mike: The store is Patton Goldsmiths over in Mongoose. They had the same earrings in 14K gold, but we decided that was a bit much for "fun" earrings.

[FlaGeorge]

Wow – I thought “War & Peace” was long. What a great report, I really enjoyed reading it over the last 2 days. As I was reading it – I could picture myself in the back of your jeep. Thanks for making me laugh. You have a great style. Thanks again.

[Eric in NJ]

I printed this up and put it in a folio and added it to the stack of stuff to read before 12/02.