St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Four: Cruzan Distillery & Captain Morgan Factory Tours)

DAY FOUR:  Tuesday, 7 August 2012

            Today I still had my morning breakfast strawberry cereal bar with the sunrise, but I didn’t walk along the shore as much as I’d intended.  During my walk, I encountered a local Rasta named Andrew, who was hanging out in front of the resort.  (There’s a small access road which separates the Palms from the neighboring Hibiscus resort.)  I don’t completely trust strangers, so I stopped my walk in front of the dining area of the Palms.  Andrew told me a lot of his life-story, and I said very little of mine.  Never give out information unless you know how it was to be used.  Meeting someone on the beach is a little different than talking to someone on an airplane, especially when that person is obviously not a guest or hotel staff.

We stood and talked for about a half-hour, and Andrew seemed to be a nice guy.  He taught me the “island salute,” which was a three-step hand-clasp.  You do a pseudo-handshake (positioned similar the way arm-wrestlers grasp their opponents), followed by a finger-clasp (so you nails meet the interior of the other person’s first joint), and then a fist-bump.  We did that a couple times to get the rhythm correct.  Andrew then exited the beach by the causeway, and I made along sweep up along the beach just to make sure he’d left the area before heading back to my room.

Once I had my morning swim in, and was cleaned up, today’s objective was the Cruzan Rum Distillery.  I made sure to wear my “Rum Therapy” shirt specifically for that purpose.  The road map was easy to navigate (and even had the vicinity of the factory marked).  I went west down Route 70, then south at the second intersection of Route 64.  (Just for your informational purposes, the first intersection of Route 64 would take you across the highway, Route 66, and then further south to the airport.  64 would then continue on for a bit before looping back around to 70 again.)

I turned down the side road where I’d seen the sign for “Cruzan Rum” on the left.  Immediately after turning, I saw what appeared to be a warehouse on the right.  There were no signs, but I pulled in and asked where I needed to go for the factory tour.  The man told me to go back to the highway, make a left (go east), and then make a right at the fourth light.  That didn’t sound correct to me, but hey, I’m the visitor.

The damn instructions brought me to the Captain Morgan factory!  Not my primary destination.  But since I was there, I figured I would do that tour, and then find the Cruzan distillery later.

From the outside, the visitor’s center was a one-story white modern-looking square building, with the company logo on it.  Behind the chain-link fence was a bunch of large vats, with lots of piping going from those to a large white warehouse-like structure.  There was only one other car in the lot.  After quickly munching a Kashi bar (as the time was near appropriate), I went inside, and got signed up for the tour which would start in about ten minutes (at the top of the hour).  There were some displays and tapestries just off the lobby, and the receptionist said I could read those in-depth, as the tour would only cover the information there briefly.  I was also given two “silver” (plastic) coins, which I’d use to “purchase” drinks in the lounge after the tour.

I thought I was going to be the only person on the tour, then three ladies showed up.  From the comments the receptionist made, one of the three ladies was underage (said she was seventeen), so she wasn’t issued any “silver coins.”  I introduced myself, and then we handed cameras back and forth so we could have our pictures taken in front of the giant Captain Morgan statue.  I learned the other two ladies were the younger’s mom and grandmother (who appeared that she was still on the youthful side).  The mom was probably in her late 30s or early 40s.  As it turned out, they were from outside of Dallas (in Southlands).  That was the second group from Texas I’d met since being here.

The grandmother (Jean) was a resident of the island, and her spouse was the attorney Jay Stucki.  Of course some of that came out in the standard chit-chat before the tour, and some in the lounge afterwards (more on that in a moment).  The mom’s name was Nancy, and her daughter was Megan.  They got a chuckle when I said I was from Round Rock.  Megan commented that her father lives near “where Round Rock meets Hutto and Pflugerville.”  Can you name a place that’s any closer than where I live?  Holy crap!

The Captain Morgan tour started with a brief history of rum in the Caribbean (detailed on the first set of tapestries), followed by a brief history of the company (which was noted on the second set of tapestries), including how the factory just moved here two years ago from Puerto Rico.  As the receptionist, who was also the tour guide, gave this information, I recalled the comments Andrew had made about the Captain Morgan factory earlier that day.  Andrew had nothing good to say about them, as they apparently brought there own work force with them.  I found that interesting.  The factory in Puerto Rico continued to operate full-swing, and this was a satellite operation.  We then watched a short film, probably about ten-to-fifteen minutes long, which was pretty much the making of the most recent marketing campaigns.

Then we went outside, and got on a small tram.  Another couple joined our tour group at that time.  We were then driven around the factory to be sown how things were done.  Here were the vats that processed the sugar cane, here’s where the pipes condensed the steam back into liquid, etc.  Most of the rum-making process we were “told” (as opposed to being “shown”).  Things were pointed out and explained, but it was all done form a distance.  We could see the containers the rum was stored in, but the closest we were able to get was about 100 feet.  The tram ride ended up only really taking us around the area next to the parking lot.  Considering how short of a distance it was, we probably could’ve simply walked it.

While the rum is produced here, and then placed into wooden barrels, it is not bottled here.  After aging in the barrels (as the wood helps give it that particular taste), the rum is transferred to large metal containers.  These containers are then shipped to Florida, where it’s bottled.  It’s actually cheaper it to do it that way, as the bottles were manufactured in the States.  Why ship empty bottles to the islands, only to fill them and ship them back to the mainland?

We were told Captain Morgan built their warehouse to store the rum right next to the warehouses where Cruzan stored their product.  Our tour guide said that’s because “We’re all friends in the rum business.”  That explains how I turned at the Cruzan sign, and was given the directions which brought me to Captain Morgan.

There was also a huge vat of distilled water, which was used in the rum-making process.  The tour guide mentioned how many thousands of gallons this thing contained.  She also noted the Captain Morgan had an agreement with the island that in a time of emergency, that could be provided as a source of fresh drinking water.

After the tram ride, we were brought back inside to where the lounge was, so we could get our two free sample drinks (one for each “silver coin” we had).  At least in Nancy’s case, she was able to have an additional drink, as Jean only used one of her coins.  Megan got free soda at least.  The first drink I had was the spiced rum with papaya punch, laced with cinnamon.  Very good.  The second I had was a mix of rum, Coke, and lime juice.  An okay variation.  While we sat in the lounge, between drinks, was where the majority of our chit-chatting took place.

The lounge was an elongated triangle shape, with the bar on one side, and a group of small tables (each looked like a compass) on the other.  There were monitors in the corner, which were tuned into the current Olympic events.  The receptionist (and tour guide) commented they have office parties there.  It was nicely laid out, but had a very corporate feel to it.

Jean gave me her husband’s business card, which had a Christiansted address, and I thanked her for that.  Figured if I got back down to Christiansted this week, I’d stop in and say hi (but he probably wouldn’t tell me anything that I hadn’t already learned).  As it was Nancy and Megan’s first time down on the island, Jean was showing them around.  They rattled off a couple places to check out for lunch in Frederiksted, as well as a shop they said “was the best place to get ice cream” on the island.  They were all very nice and sociable, especially after they heard my idea to relocate here.

Now since the factory had only been in operation for about a year, the rum they had available at the lounge was what actually had been produced in this factory.  Sorry, Jim.  No Private Stock was available here yet (as it needs to age at least two years).  The gift shop next to the lounge was still “in progress,” too.  While there was some glassware (no shot glasses, though), and shirts, there was nothing that was St. Croix specific.  I saw no reason to spend money on a “generic” Captain Morgan item.  If I’m going to get a souvenir, I want it to say where I was.

After we’d finished our drinks in the lounge, we stood out in the parking lot, and took a few more pictures of the area.  Jean, Nancy, and Megan had other plans for the day, so they declined my suggestion we should all go for lunch.  We left the factory at the same time.  Can’t say I made as good as a connection I’d had on other attempts with people here, but I at least had a business card from a resident that I could send a resume to.

Now it was time to back-track the way I’d come before in order to locate the Cruzan Distillery.  I wasn’t hungry at the moment, and stopping off someplace for lunch would’ve been nice.  I hadn’t noticed any as I cruised down the highway.  I figured I could probably wait a little bit.  I had gotten a bottle of water at Captain Morgan (spiked with my Pink Crack) to provide some much needed hydration.  That was the only money I spent at the Captain Morgan gift shop, as I wanted to spend my money on the locally-produced Cruzan.

While the Captain Morgan factory was all pretty and polished with that corporate veneer, the Cruzan distillery was the complete opposite.  If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve simply been passing a farm.  Past where the Captain Morgan warehouse was, just a little further down the road (on the left side), were some old Colonial-style buildings, what looked to be a grain tower, and some storage silos.

The little guard house was the only thing to show you from the road it wasn’t a farm.  This place was both historical and operational.  Past the sea-green colored two-story farm-house structure (which were the Cruzan business offices) was an area with an old sugar mill turret, with the seven flags of the countries which have owned St. Croix.  The flag for USVI was on the same pole as the American flag, but under it.

The lounge where the tour would begin (and end) was an open-sided covered porch with some hammocks and wicker furniture, which opened on to a room where the bar and gift shop room were.  The Cruzan tour was only half the cost of the Captain Morgan one, and already I could tell it would be better.  As Captain Morgan was all corporate, this was a “lived-in” look, which was inviting and reflected the local atmosphere.  I had pretty good timing, and I was to be the only one in my tour group.

My guide was Neva, who said she’d only been working here since she turned 21 last year.  Her joke was that her big experience with alcohol was working for a distillery.  We walked around the area, going from building to building, as she described each part of the rum-making process.  The process was the same as what I’d heard earlier that day, but the presentation was much more interesting.

We took stairs up to cat-walks, stepped over piping, and through a couple of alleys between buildings.  The vats of the boiling sugar cane and molasses were open, so you could smell them, and close enough to put your hand in them (if you so choose).  We stood in arm’s reach of the guys opening the wooden casks to drain the rum out of them, and the scent of rum-soaked oak-chips from inside the barrels was nice.  And in the storage warehouse, where there were hundreds of casks filled with aging rum, you could actually reach out and touch the barrels.  I had Neva take a picture of me hugging a tower of barrels.

The barrels were painted white on top, and each time they were used, a green stripe was marked.  This allowed the barrels to be marked, and after about a dozen uses, the barrels would be broken down (as they’d lost their potency to flavor the rum).  After coming out of the fermentation vats, there’s a layer “sludge” of cane residue which floats on the top, which is strained off before being placed in the barrels.  (That’s why the boiling vats are open.)  While Captain Morgan mixes most of the sludge back into their product, Cruzan dumps it into a pipe which goes all the way to the coast.  Since it’s a by-product of the cane, the sludge is consumed by the turtles and other aquatic life near where the pipe comes out.

I asked Neva if there were any thoughts of actually turning it into some sort of animal feed or fertilizer which could be used by local farmers.  She said she’d have to ask about that.  The sludge also contains most of the remnants of the fermentation, which contributes to what causes hangovers.  Neva said because it’s filtered out of Cruzan, not only does it give it a smoother taste, but it reduces the dehydration factor while retaining the alcohol percentage.

When emptied out of the barrels, the Cruzan Rum was then placed into large containers, which are shipped to the mainland for bottling.  Neva said they started doing this about five years ago, and then about two years ago Cruzan was acquired by Jim Beam.  This greatly increased their distribution across the States.  Every flavor of Cruzan is produced out of this single facility, but bottled in Kentucky.  Some of the bottles are then shipped back to the Distillery for sale in the gift shop.

This was a far more hands-on and personal tour, and in my opinion, the much better of the two.  We returned to the lounge, where the bartender (James) poured me a mix of pineapple rum with pineapple juice.  That single drink had more alcohol than the two I’d gotten at Captain Morgan, and it went down much smoother.  I was invited to sample as much as I wanted (as there were shot-glass-sized tasting cups at the bar).  Oh, how I wanted to have much more.  I did mention to James that not only was I driving, but I’d done the other tour too, so I had to slow my intake down.  I let James and Neva know how much better I thought this tour was.  As I sat at the bar, James and I chatted a bit on a casual nature.  It would’ve been nice to have him take a picture of my hanging at the bar, but it was nice just be sociable, and not act like a tourist.

One of the couples from the previous tour was still sitting at the bar when I’d finished mine, and they over-heard me telling James about the Rum Experiment I’d done last year.  Because I’d mentioned Dr. Pepper, the couple must’ve picked up on that, and asked me where I was from.  Turns out they were from San Antonio.  What the frak?  Was there an invasion from Texas going on this week?  Dr. Pepper may be a Texas-born drink, but it usually is found in other parts of the country (just not here).

I downed another bottle of water as I sat at Cruzan bar for a bit for the body to process the booze I had.  Watched another tour group form, and depart.  I’d previously had this idea of maybe driving over some of the other roads in the western hills before going back to the Palms.  But at this point, it wouldn’t be the wise thing.  I had a pretty good buzz going on, and I was very hungry.

After leaving the Cruzan distillery, I went back along Route 70 back towards the Palms (as I knew that road pretty well now).  I pulled into the campus of the University at Virgin Islands, since it was on the way back.  I’d wanted to check this out anyway during the visit here.  Figured I might be able to score some food at their student center, and pick up some information or things from their campus store.  Notice I did say “pulled in,” as the campus layout was confusing.  I couldn’t find where the visitor parking was, much less where the student center or campus store would be.  There wasn’t anyone hanging about outside that I could stop and ask.

University at VI appeared to about as large as Adirondack Community College when I went there the first time (1988-1990), and that included what buildings appeared to be dorms.  Being early August, it was probably between semesters.  Since it didn’t appear I’d find any sustenance here, I got back on the road and headed for the Palms.

On that first night I’d come in, even after dark, I noticed two BBQ joints which were pretty close to the Palms, so I wanted to give them a try.  I stopped into first one on the way back, but the parking lot was taken up by some delivery trucks, so I couldn’t find any place to park.  That place looked like a small kitchen, and a pavilion which covered a pool table and a seating area.  Almost a St. Croix version of Rudy’s, except with loud reggae music playing.  I couldn’t see much more than that, as I’d been looking for the non-existent parking.  I went on to the next place.

This was called Blues Backyard BBQ Pit.  It was on a corner lot, where a food trailer had been set up in the yard next to a house, and the yard had picnic tables scattered about.  The owners were from New Hampshire, and they would still go back for a couple weeks every year to ski.  The bathroom was covered with bumper stickers from various ski lodges in NH; not something I expected to see in VI.  I got a brisket sandwich, which had come right off the pit behind the food trailer.  I ate as “Mustang Sally” played on the loud speaker.  Not bad, tasty and filling.

Still having a good buzz going on from two rum tours, back at the Palms I chilled at the bar for a bit and chatted with Steve and some of the Houston bunch.  We talked about some of the critters we’d seen here, from the requisite pelicans (which is what gives the resort its name), and the geckos which are crawling around (at least none of them tried to sell us insurance).  I’ve reported in addition to a cat I saw going slinking by one night, I’ve seen some white sand crabs, no wider than my hand, go scuttling by on the beach in the morning, as well as some smaller crabs I’d seen also, which were no larger than my thumb.  Perhaps they were a small hermit crab.

Steve made some comments about the number of bottles of water they’d been buying so his group had something to drink back at the room.  I said I didn’t have that issue, because I’d been filling up the ice bucket, letting that melt, and pouring it back into the couple bottles I’d gotten so I’d have water with me.  He said it wasn’t smart to drink the water in some overseas location.  I told him that while this could probably be considered “overseas” in some manner, all information I’d read was the water was fit to drink here because it came through a de-salination plant.  Steve’s response was that I’d start feeling the affects within three days.  I’d been around enough, even various places within the U.S., if I had something which wasn’t going to agree with me, I’d know in a matter of hours.  I wasn’t having any issues at all.

The Summer Olympics were on the television at the bar, so we were able to catch the highlights of the beach volleyball, and some of the other events.  We did have a side discussion about with all the countries competing in the events, it was odd to see Puerto Rico there as there own team (as it was a territory the way Virgin Islands was, not it’s own country).  It made me think of the last time I’d gotten to watch the Summer Olympics was, interestingly enough, when I was on holiday in Arizona back in 2008.

After having my nightly cold cuts, around dinner time, I headed back to the bar for my daily rum punch.  Since I’d eaten in the room, I wasn’t hungry, but I thought about getting an appetizer if I wanted one.  Willie was back behind the bar tonight.  Sid came wandering by, as the rest of his group had gone their separate ways while he was napping (so he was feeling abandoned).  I let him know I’d seen Maddie and Mark at the dining area playing backgammon earlier.

Willie and the manager, Shelia, got into a discussion at the bar.  Seems next door at the Hibiscus, they were doing a “dollar taco” night, and the discussion was whether the tacos were any good or not.  Shelia commented that she didn’t think you could get any food on the island for a dollar.  I was then mentioned that they should send someone over to check it out.  A couple at the bar thought it was a good idea, but they’d just ordered some food.  Shelia even joked she’d knock ten percent of your bar bill if someone went.

Screw it.  I asked Willie for a to-go cup to put my drink in, as I said I’d do it.  Nothing ventured, right.  The worst which could happen was they tasted bad.  It’s not like they could kill you.  Willie referred to me as the guinea pig.  I was posed to make a comment (quoting an old “Goodfeathers” cartoon from Animaniacs) that I’d preferred the term “Italian-American pig,” but since I didn’t know the audience, I didn’t say the joke.  Sid decided he’d tag along, although I think it was because he hadn’t found anything on the dinner menu he wanted.

The Hibiscus was west of the Palms, and I walked the beach in front of it each morning, so it wasn’t that far to go.  I rolled up to a bar full of twenty-somethings with a live band playing loud music.  The band was playing a decent cover of U2’s “All I Want Is You,” with a front man who sounded like Clapton.  It was like hearing Creem covering Bono’s stuff.  This was a more “happening” place, but I much preferred the quiet subtleness of the Palms where I could hear the ocean from the bar.

Hibiscus was out of chicken tacos, but there were still some beef left.  I got some flack when I asked for a to-go box, as I said I wanted to eat them on the beach.  I think they knew I was an invader.  Sid just chilled out as I got the tacos, as he didn’t want any.

I returned to the Palms, where I sat back down at the bar with them, for all to see.  Willie got a chuckle out of it, as I really went over and did that.  Everyone awaited my report as I chowed down on them.  These were Taco Bell quality, although with a little more grease.  So overall not bad, but I wouldn’t want to have eaten any more than two.

I hadn’t seen Shelly and Hannah come in for dinner, as I wanted to see how their dive at Buck Island went.  I did spot Maddie and Mark sitting down for dinner, and Sid suggested we join them.  They didn’t see that as an interruption, and said they enjoyed the company.

Mark mentioned the lady bartender (Tammy) had bottomed out her car on a pot hole, and needed a $300 alignment done.  Seems the pot holes have spray painted circles around them to let you know whether or not you should avoid them.  Green was okay to hit, yellow would be bumpy, and red was not okay at all to hit.  Apparently some pot holes were so bad that an orange road cone was placed in them.  We’re told that lasts as long as until someone gets annoyed at seeing them there, and then tosses the road cone into the bushes at the side of the road.  Tammy apparently hit one that she should’ve (or previously did) a cone in it, and it really tore up her car.  I said to Mark in all the driving I’d done so far, I hadn’t seen any marks around the pot holes, but I’d now watch for them.

When I asked, Mark told me how him and Maddie took a resort course on a whim, and got SCUBA certified.  Because they enjoyed it so much, that it became their thing to do together.  They’ve been diving for over a decade now.  Sid commented something similar, and I got to hear a number of interesting stories about places they’ve dove, and things they encountered.  They asked if I’d been certified yet.  I said that I looked into doing it at home, but held off on it on the chance I could do it here.  One of my plans as I was driving around here to see what I needed to do to live here, I’d look to see if there was a place I could do the certifications.

After I left the dining area, and was returning to the room for the evening of enjoying the sound of the waves, I ran into Shelly and Hannah again.  They’d been too sunburned from the day before, so they hadn’t gone to Buck Island.  They ended up going to a spa instead, but said they planned to attempt it the next day.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Rum Therapy:  http://www.rumtherapy.com/

            Captain Morgan Factory Tour:  http://www.stcroixtourism.com/captainmorgan/index.htm

            Cruzan Distillery Tour:  http://cruzanrum.com/lpa

            University at Virgin Islands:  http://www.uvi.edu/

            Blues Backyard BBQ Pit:  http://st-croix.ceridium.com/profile/blues-backyard-bbq

            Hibiscus Resort:  http://hibiscusbeachresort.com/

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