St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Eight: Departing Paradise)

DAY EIGHT:  Saturday, 11 August 2012

            I’d worked backwards from my 8am flight to work in rental car drop-off, walk from drop-off point (which had been previously pointed out to me as across the airport parking lot), the drive to the airport, and the morning shower.  I had an early flight, and I expected to be dealing with a lot of others at the same time, so I made a guestimate.  If I set my alarm for 4.30, I’d be leaving the Palms at 5.00, at the airport by 5.30, and figure ten-to-fifteen minutes to truck across the parking lot.  So I’d roughly be getting my boarding passes and trying to go through security at 6.00 am.

   Best laid plans, they say.  First, the damn insomnia I’ve had on and off all week really hit.  Guess I should’ve had more to drink.  Since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I decided to get up at the unholy hour of 4am, instead of just laying there in bed.  I had even opened the patio blinds on the off-chance I might be able to see another sunrise.  (Just my luck, had I just stayed laying there in bed, I would’ve drifted off, and slept through my alarm.  Hmm, being forced to stay in St. Croix another day as alternate flight arrangements were being made.  Not seeing too much of an issue with that.)

My last part of the check-out process from the Palms was nothing more than turning in the room key.  Now except for the transfer I took in on the first night, I hadn’t been on the roads at night.  The main route I’d been taking during the day was 75, so I figured I was familiar with it enough to be able to drive the hilly and curvy road in the wee hours.  I’d hoped the morning light would be happening when I was going down the road, but it was too early for that.

The Hertz rental window wasn’t open until 7am, and the car return location was locked behind a gate.  So the place I was instructed to bring the car back to was not accessible.  With not many options available, I drove the car back to the same “berth” in the parking lot where I’d picked it up from.  Shit, their lot, their car.  I put the keys over the sun visor, and locked the vehicle.  It was 5.15 am, and the American Airlines counter didn’t even open until 6.  Shit, I could’ve (should’ve) had another drink the night before, but this is the stuff you don’t learn until later.

There were a few people already waiting in line ahead of me, but once we checked the bags, I was the first one that got to go through Customs.  Yes, that is correct.  Even though I was not considered to have left United States soil, I still had to go through Customs before leaving St. Croix.  There was a sign that said it was required of all citizens returning to the mainland from Puerto Rico and Virgin Islands.  While I wondered if that was also in place for other overseas territories (like Guam, and places in the Pacific), I figured the reality was it was there to slow down any drug traffic from less-reputable Caribbean islands.

I’m glad I brought my passport, as it made it easier.  The Customs agent asked for proof of identification that I was an American citizen.  Got my drivers license or my passport, which would you prefer, sir?  He gave some curt statement that it takes longer to confirm a state drivers license.  Since I’d brought the passport on the off-chance I’d get over to BVI, I was glad I had it.  At least he could’ve stamped the fucking thing.  By not having a suitcase full of booze, that also got me through quicker (as it didn’t need to be opened up to be confirmed.)  Sure, I did bring some booze through, but it was only about a liter’s worth of the sampler pack I’d gotten at Cruzan.

After that, then I got to take my luggage through security, and then actually my bags were actually “checked” (where it was placed on a bin to be loaded on the plane, which is usually what happens at the airline check-in desk).  Then I got to go through the standard security check-point.  Once through, I wandered around the waiting area in the airport to add to some more steps on my pedometer (since I’d be sitting most of the day).  It was many minutes before the next people came into the waiting area (the people who were ahead of me in line), which implied their journey through the land of Customs was neither quick nor easy.

The television playing in the waiting area was showing a station out of Miami.  There was a program called “Latination” playing (with the tag line of “The voice of your generation!”), which was not the voice of my generation nor ethnicity.  The only interesting news story they showed was a group in California (of course) that decided to play polo on bicycles with long mallets.  It actually looked pretty interesting.

I got to see my last sunrise of the morning as I waiting in the terminal.  As the place filled up with people, I had to stop walking around the area.  Most of those people ended getting on the plane with me.  The couple that had gotten married on Wednesday (and had their receptionist at the Palms) were also on the flight, with their toddlers.

When I flew in, it was dark, so I didn’t get a chance to see the island from the air.  (Also, as the captain had pointed out when we’d gone over Turks & Caicos on the way in, which I’d really would’ve liked to have seen, I looked forward to be able to see it on the way out.)  On the flight out of St. Croix, I had the window seat again, and the wing covered most of my view, so I wasn’t able to see much of the island.  And the sun was beating through the window, so the shades were kept shut as much as possible to keep the airplane cool.

We went down the runway, and took off in an easterly direction.  That seemed odd, considering we needed to go the other direction, but maybe that’s how the runway works down here.  Once we were in the air, we made a hard bank to the right (south) to get back facing the direction we wanted to go.  I could see the shadow of the plane on the water getting closer, so I first thought we were heading back to the airport.  Eventually we leveled out, got the altitude we needed, and were on a westerly heading.  Because of the sunlight coming in the windows and the wing in my way, I figured I wasn’t going to be able to see Turks & Caicos as we passed over it again.  As I said, I would’ve liked to have seen that from the air.

The camera I have is not easy to turn off the flash off (like the manual one I used to have), so it would’ve been harder to take pictures from the air anyways.  A dark plane with mostly sleepy people would really notice the flash going off.  Sure that would be appreciated.

My Ipod had run out of charge at some point during the week, and I didn’t realize it.  I’d never pulled it out to use it the entire trip.  I was sure I had charged it before I’d left home.  With no one else in the seats next to me, I stretched out as much as I could in order to nap.  I didn’t see much, mainly due to the constant crying of the aforementioned toddlers of the newlyweds, so I was only mildly rested upon the arrival to Miami.

Because I’d experienced this on the way out to St. Croix, I was prepared for the wonderfulness that was Miami International Airport.  In the reverse of what I’d some a week earlier, I came into D Concourse, had to leave the secure area, trek across to the other side of this fucking huge airport, and re-enter security at H Concourse.  (As I knew this, that was why I didn’t get anything at the St. Croix duty-free store before leaving.)  This time, there was about five-times as many people in the airport.  I’d seen people who’d been on the plane with me trying to figure this out, so I was able to help them around.  Of course, the entrance to H Concourse was closed, so we had to go over to I Concourse (and make sure we weren’t in the line for “international travelers”), and then once through, truck over to H.  This is a reason why I have a backpack as my carry-on, as it’s easy to hump shit through.

Really, that minor annoyance was the only issue I had with going through Miami.  I did stop into the duty-free store there (as I didn’t have to go through any security check-points again).  Still I didn’t see anything I couldn’t get at home.  The lady at the counter told me because I technically had not come in from overseas (nor returning to a foreign country), I wouldn’t be able to purchase anything there.  Didn’t hurt to look around, though.  After I located where my gate was, I was able to get some charge into my Ipod while waiting for the flight to Atlanta.  It was a little cloudy coming and leaving Miami, but it wasn’t any significant delays.

Once in Atlanta, I had a long layover, which sucked, so I found one of the airport pubs to hang in.  I got a burger and took the change to catch up on some of these journal entries.  When it was time to board the flight to Austin, the plane was a little delayed, but again not significantly so.  Because it was a later flight, there were a lot of ornery people who were tired from travelling all day, and I was one of them.  I didn’t want to sleep on the plane here, because I wanted to be able to sleep once I got home.  On the flight to Atlanta, people weren’t very talkative.  The flight to Austin was a little bit better, as the couple next to me had just come from Bermuda, and where showing me shots of that.

After I arrived back in Austin, and I’d gotten my bag, I hopped on the shuttle back to The Parking Spot.  I handed the shuttle-driver my ticket, and from that he knew where my car was parked.  The lot and space number wasn’t on there, so I have no idea how he knew that.  It was good though, because I didn’t recall, other than “D Row”).  AAA membership gave me a 25% discount, which had sounded good when I was researching this before I left.  But once the sales tax was added, as well as the “10% Airport Access Fee,” was tacked in, that essentially ate up most of the discount.  In the final accounting, I don’t think it was any cheaper there than it was to park in the airport lot.

I originally had made plans to go to another location upon my arrival, so I wouldn’t be heading back home until later the next day (one extra night of vacation).  Those plans were changed on me, so I had to head home.  With my luggage in the car, I didn’t want to go any place where I would be leaving it unattended for any length of time (like one of the local pubs).  Ok, the luggage was in the trunk, because that’s where The Parking Spot guy put it, but you get the idea.

Since I hadn’t really had any diary for any entire week, I was jonesing for a good milkshake or some other ice cream product.  As there was a Baskin-Robbins near the house, I headed that way.  (I normally will go to local places over national chains, but in Austin the local ice cream chain, Amy’s Ice Cream, has been some of the worst stuff I’ve had.  I don’t visit them because of that, and there’s not one up in Round Rock that I know of anyway.)  As I drove up the highway, I salivated at the thought of a Reese Peanut Butter Cup Sundae.  Son of a bitch!  Baskin-Robbins had closed a few moments right before I got there.  At that point, I started to feel the exhaustion from the day’s travel.  Had I gone to pub, I’d be feeling it there, no matter how jumpin’ the place might be.  I headed home to my own bed, and the dog that had missed me all week, and finally collapsed.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Palms at Pelican Cove:  http://www.palmspelicancove.com/

            British Virgin Islands:  http://www.bvitourism.com/

            Cycle Polo:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cycle_polo

            The Parking Spot:  http://www.theparkingspot.com/

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St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Seven: More Drives Around the Island)

DAY SEVEN:  Friday, 10 August 2012

            After I greeted the sunrise, I did my last beach walk of the week.  I did get joined by a local, one who’d I’d seen off and on all week swimming in the morning.  This hippie-looking older man didn’t provide a man (but mentioned he’d come down about seven years ago from Oregon).  While he seemed like a nice person, something kept my “spider-sense” going off around this guy, so I didn’t provide any personal info.  He wore a doodad around his neck similar to what I had to keep my room key in when I swam, except he used his to keep his smokes dry.

  I did suggest to Mr. Oregon that the sea weed which washed up each morning could be a good money making venture.  Pay locals to pick it up from the beaches (and pay them $X per pound, so the more motivated ones will get paid better).  Then charge the resorts and other beach-front properties $Y amount per square foot that needs to be picked up.  After removing the saltiness from it, sell the sea weed to farmers as feed and/or fertilizer for $Z amount.  Sounds like a good idea.

After I ran up to the local stop-and-rob (“the red gas station”) and got the morning papers (which was a suggestion from Angie), I went for what I planned to be my last swim.  I didn’t want to swim in the afternoon, only because I wanted my suit and swim shoes to be as dry as possible before bagging them up and putting them into my luggage.  Shelly and Hannah were having their last swim and sun-bathe for the day.  I collected more coral pieces, too.

I’d left a voice message with Kurt Otto before going out for the swim.  I packed some stuff, got cleaned up, and went out for another exploration of the island.  I can honestly say I didn’t do a lot of tourist things, but certainly got a feel of the island.

This place is social Darwinism at work, and Charles Dickens would be proud.  Most of the east-enders are wealthy people, and most of the central and west-enders are poor, with very few middle-class in between.  Because of the economy, the poor prey on the cruise ship tourists (and whoever else they might be able to find during the off-season) because there’s nothing else for them to do.  I’m sure there are other opportunities on the island, but with the laid back attitude of “I’ll get to it whenever I get to it” means many don’t try for opportunities that are available, or attempt to make new ones.  The poor are resentful of the ex-pats who come to the island (whether as a wealthy east-ender or as someone who grabs one of the available jobs), because the natives feel these newcomers are stealing the jobs.  Well, they are, but only because the locals are taking them.

Other islands (Turks & Caicos being the example I learned first-hand) want to hire locals over newcomers, as they see that as a boost to the local infrastructure.  But on St. Croix (and I gathered from what I’d heard, the rest of USVI) that newcomers are preferred over locals, because the newcomers have the drive to work for what they want (as that’s what was able to get them to the island in the first place), as opposed those who’ve always lived with the laid back attitude.  I want the laid back attitude, I rather liked being a beach bum this week, but I’ll only do that on my time.  Not on work time.  When I’m on work time, I do what I need to do to complete my job.  It was commented to me on more than one occasion, that my outlook of that will be beneficial to my long-term survival on the island.

Today’s destination was to hit the south-eastern part of the island.  Not sure what’s out there, as the map doesn’t have anything listed, so I’m sure it’s residential.  If I go too far, it’ll bring me back around to Point Udall.  Figure I’ll get lunch out there as I’m waiting to hear back from Kurt.

I thought about taking Route 753 south to 83 south, then east on 62, and then cut over to the southern portion of 60.  Of course, with 753 not well-marked, I missed that completely.  Instead I just followed 82 east until the intersection of 60 (near where Cheeseburger In America’s Paradise was).  Heading south in 60 was some decent-looking middle-class residential property.  Once 60 turns east at Great Pond Bay (which is the southern edge of the island), and becomes Southshore Road, the views became very nice.  Not as good as those from North Shore Road, but comparable.  (Yes, one is road is the two-word “North Shore,” and the other is the single-word “Southshore.”  Don’t ask me why.  I didn’t name them.)

I took a few shots at a place with a sign marked “Point Elizabeth,” but that wasn’t listed on my map.  The houses got really nice as I headed past the Divi Carnia Bay Resort (which had the island’s only casino across the road from it).  There was also a mini-golf course there, but it didn’t appear to be opened.  Since I was close enough, I made a quick visit of Point Udall again, and then came back along Southshore Road because the views were nice.  I stopped and took some pictures where I could like I’d done the day before.

One note about this second visit to Point Udall, I thought I’d missed something important the first time, and hadn’t realized it until later.  On the first visit, I parked right where the road made a Y (so Coral was parked on the west side of the Millennium Monument).  When I was at the gift shops in Christiansted, I saw a postcard showing there was some very prominent lettering on the rock wall (with the name of the monument, and “Eastern Most Point of the United States” displayed on.  I’m not sure how I could’ve parked Coral in front of this and noticed it.  I’m sure I was looking at the scenery, but I’d like to think that I’m not that blind.

This time when I parked, I parked next to one of the sitting areas built into the rock wall (thus Coral was parked on the north side of the monument).  I walked around to where the letters should be, and saw that it’d been since worn off.  I could barely tell they’d been there at all, so that explained why I hadn’t seen them the first time around.  The Millennium Monument was only dedicated in January 2000, so the weather could’ve worn down the letters.  Probably the letters were stolen.  I’d brought the Turks & Caicos magazine with me this time too, but there was no one out there to take my picture with it.

Because I hadn’t heard anything back from Kurt yet, I back-tracked slightly along 82 (just near the junction for 60) to the Tamarind Reef Resort at Green Cay, only for a little place called Deep Blue Café.  Figured it was close-by enough for lunch.  The chicken fingers were okay, but not as good as those I’d gotten at the Palms.  My cell phone signal was spotty out there, and that’s when I noticed Kurt had left me a voice message.  I wasn’t going to talk to him in a public place (as my business was not everyone’s business).  Also, I wasn’t sure how long the conversation would be.  It could be short (“Come over to my office, Dave”) or a longer conversation (where I’m sure the people at Tamarind Reef wouldn’t want me lurking around).  During lunch, I chatted briefly with the bartender, and watched a little of the swimming events on the Olympics.  I wandered around the Tamarind grounds what I could to get close up shots of Buck Island, and shots from the sugar cane turret on the hill over-looking the resort.

I then shot down 60 again to a turn-off I’d seen earlier, which brought me back to 62.  This was a hilly region, but also home to some cattle farms. Not sure if they were diary or steak (or both), but there wasn’t more than a handful of residences around here.  The water off the coast had the light blue to show it was shallow, and there weren’t any dive sites noted (which may’ve been why there were no resorts out here).  There was a Boy Scout Camp out here, and few places for food.

All along the east-side were houses dotting the hills, and other sections still in the natural state.  Providing that something can boost the economy, there’s lots of places to build and expand into.  The island has so much potential to grow in good ways, unlike St. Thomas, which I’ve been told had grown in bad ways.

I followed 62, and was able to look across the flat land there to see the pipes of the closed Hovensa (Hess) Refinery.  Once at the intersection for 83, I used that to get to 753.  Where 83 became 753 was slightly confusing in its design, and missing a turn took me into the island version of a trailer park.  A quick U-turn got me back to where I needed to be.  The first section of 753 was hilly curvy road, then became two-lane parkway (some parts still under construction), and then brought me back to the intersection of 75, where I could head back towards the Palms.  (This was the intersection I’d missed earlier today.)  The section of 753 close to the intersection was similar in quality to some of the back streets of Christiansted, and understood why there was a police station at the corner.  Essentially, I’d done the route I’d planned, just in reverse.

Back at the Palms, I called Kurt back, and spent some time explaining my situation and what I was seeking.  I know there wouldn’t be much call for automotive things here, but I figured the arbitration skill was transferable to other disciplines.  Kurt did agree with that, and mentioned some of the same stuff Gerry had mentioned earlier (like the mediation stuff through Nancy Clark).

Would I consider the visit a success?  Yes.  Made some connections in ways I could’ve never done at home.  Learned more about the island in ways that Fodor’s or Frommers could ever tell me.  Certainly met a number of nice people, which more than likely I’ll never see again.  (When I commented was so-and-so on FaceBook or asked for email addresses, didn’t get concrete responses, so there weren’t too many new entries into my address book.)  And I had a good relaxing week away from work, and the stresses from home.

Did I get any job offers?  No.  Honestly didn’t expect to, and would’ve been greatly surprised if I did.  Didn’t buy as many trinkets for others as I would’ve liked.  Didn’t see a lot of places to do that here, and much of what I did see was pretty average.  Wasn’t impressed by any coffee mugs, so there wasn’t any reason to get any.  I made sure to bottle up some sand and water from the beach (like I’d done on the last trip to Turks & Caicos).

And the whole build-up I had about bringing home a suitcase full of rum ended up being not necessary.  Anything I saw at the Cruzan Distillery I could get at home (although at twice the cost).  I didn’t see any “special flavors” available only at the distillery.  Customs allows U.S. residents returning to the mainland from the Virgin Island to be able to bring back five liters of alcohol (six, if one of those liters is domestically-produced).  I could’ve easily fit five or six bottles of the 750 ml or one liter quantity in the suitcase (and had brought enough bubble-wrap, cardboard, and duct tape to secure them properly).  The final decision was it was just easier not having to worry about it on the way home, as I still had three flights to deal with.  No matter how well I packed it, I’d be wondering if it survived the trip or not, and I was pretty sure TSA would open the suitcase and undo the nice packing job I did.

I was writing this journal long-hand into a spiral notebook.  It made it easy to have with me when sitting on the beach or at a lunch restaurant (and not having to worry about carrying my laptop around with me).  Sure it’ll take some time to transcribe it back into the computer, but that’s how I chose to do it.  I only brought two pens with me, and the first died on Day Three.  I was figuring the resort might have some pens with their logo laying about I could snag, but didn’t see any.  Hope this one lasts me the rest of the way home.  I have freakin’ dozens of pens at home and work (because they keep ending up at my desk), so there’s no need to purchase a pack of something I rarely use.  Going through Miami airport is always a fucking adventure, so I’m sure I’ll have a lot to say about that.

To the casual reader, it may sound like I didn’t do much.  Sure a lot of the morning was the same routine of sitting on the patio to watch the sunrise, walking along the beach, and taking a morning swim.  But that was what I wanted out of this, to be able to relax.  I didn’t do as much sitting on the beach (“working on the tan”) as I did at Turks & Caicos, simply because I wanted to explore the area.  And since there was more which could be reached by car here on St. Croix, it made sense to explore more and make the rental car worth it.  I had considered taking a ferry over to St. Thomas for one day, or perhaps a side trip to BVI, but didn’t feel I needed to do so on this trip.  The historical areas on Turks & Caicos, by the way, would require ferry and/or sea plane trips, things which would end up making the vacation more expensive.

If I did have another week at my disposal on the initial foray, I certainly would’ve opted for the ferry to explore St. Thomas, and what I could of St. John (thus incurring the extra costs).  Madam Giselle (the cleaning lady) had commented there was going to be hardly anyone at the Palms the following week, so there was only going to be half the house-keeping staff.  When I was planning the trip initially, I had looked at either first or second full-week in August, and only went with the first because of the good flights (at the time).  Had I come the second week, while the experiences would’ve been similar in exploring, I would’ve not encountered the people I did, including Angie (who ended up one of the most important contacts I made).

After today’s exploration, I spent a couple hours working on the tan, which ultimately will not make me any darker than when I’d left.  I then did a couple more walks up and down the beach in order to rack up some more miles on the pedometer (still with “blinking battery”) as I continued to work on the tan.  Many of the pictures I’d taken from the patio had been of the sun rising, and I knew I’d need to take some pictures of the sun setting before I left.  Only had tonight left to do it.

Once cleaned up, I went for the evening rum punch with the Houston gang.  They always headed out for dinner at 7pm, and they had more money to drop on these trips.  That’s why I only ate lunch out, and have been eating cold cuts for dinner.  I’d eaten up all the foodstuffs I had, excepting for what I’d consume during travelling tomorrow.  On the last night here, I’d already planned to eat dinner at the Palms.  To me, it also made sense as I had to get up ass-early the next morning for the flight out.  (The original flight plan, as I’d pointed out, was originally to have me leave at 2pm.)  The Houston group some-how didn’t have a flight out until 11am tomorrow, so they had more time to play tonight.  They only had one lay-over too.  Lucky bastards.  >grin<

For my last dinner at the Palms, I had a good piece of grilled chicken with a cucumber relish, which was very good.  I also took the opportunity to thank Shelia for the great time I had this week.  She did mention that one of her friends was in the process of moving to Austin, so I still couldn’t escape the Texas connection of this place.  Since there were a large number of people checking out Saturday morning, they prepared the bills ahead of time so people could clear them tonight, instead of having to do it the next day.  I took advantage of that.  I had one breakfast, one lunch, and two dinners (counting this one) at the Palms.

More my last drink of the trip, as I’d already had my rum punch, I went for the closest I could for an alcoholic milkshake, thus got a mudslide.  The bartender that was there (it wasn’t Willie) mentioned there’s a rum variation of that called a “Bushmaster.”  I commented had I realized that, I would’ve gotten one of those instead.

Not a chronological comment, but something I thought of here, so I may have to do an appendix of general observations of things I hadn’t mentioned earlier.  There’s no sales tax on the island.  What ever you pay for food is what you pay, before adding tip.  On anything you purchase for that matter.  It’s something you don’t even think about until you happened to look at your receipt.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Divi Carnia Bay Resort:  http://www.divicarina.com/DiviCarina/

            Tamarind Reef:  http://www.tamarindreefresort.com/

Point Udall:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Point_Udall_(U.S._Virgin_Islands)

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St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Six: Cane Bay)

DAY SIX:  Thursday, 9 August 2012           

            The stroll on the beach every morning was wonderful.  This was going to be something I’ll miss when I leave.  To me, that was so much a sign that this was a place I needed to be.  And I know I’ll have to start packing and getting organized tomorrow, so I’m not trying to do it ass-early Saturday morning.  (The original flight arrangements would’ve had me flying out Saturday afternoon, which would’ve allowed me one more leisurely morning there.  I would’ve really liked that.)

My walk today wasn’t as long, because I’d stop to talk to people on the beach if they were there.  When people would respond and I get into a conversation with them, then it really cuts into the walk time, but the social interaction gained is a reward.  Today I encountered Tammy, who was down from Virginia with her spouse and teen-aged children (none of whom wanted to be up this early).  Tammy said they come down every couple years, and try to stay at a different place each time.  They were staying at the condos which were part of the Palms.  Surprisingly, they hadn’t been out to Point Udall yet, so I recommended it.  She recommended to me to have lunch at a place in Cane Bay simply called “Eat.”  Since that was the direction I planned on heading today, that was a good tip.

This morning at the Palms, there was a local Chamber of Commerce meeting going on (in the same room where we had the Caribbean BBQ the previous night).  I spent a few moments listening to that before heading out for the morning swim.  It was interesting, but not the way I wanted to spend all my day.

Once cleaned up, I went west on Route 75 and then picked up Route 80, otherwise known as the North Shore Road.  I figured I’d work my way along there, lunch at Eat’s, and come down 69 (and cross the route to the rain forest I took yesterday).  Route 80 was very similar to 82 heading out to Point Udall, with ninety-degree turns of a zig-zag nature, and some elevation changes.  You could also tell this was a wealthier part of the island, based on the number of houses nestled on the hilltops.

I passed a small marina at Salt River Bay, and then turned down into a resort called Greenleaf (only because there was a place for me to stop and take pictures of the view).  Most of the views I had were as I was driving, looking to the ocean on my right.  This was majestic!  And because there weren’t too many clouds out, that was also very nice.  The north side of the island is supposed to have some of the best diving, and I can see why.  Here were a lot of areas where you got the clear blue water of the shallows.  Pictures can’t capture the intensity of the blue.

I came upon Cane Bay, and saw where Eat’ was, and went past.  While it was still a little early for lunch, the views I had on this drive were so awesome that I would come back this way.  I’ll pass on interior woods of Route 69 for the ocean views of the North Shore Road, thank you.  Past the turn off for 69, I continued west, all the way up to the gates of the Renaissance Carambola Resort.  From what I could see, it appeared to be an expensive version of Beaches or Sandals.  But the views I got on the drive up to the front gate were worth the dirty looks I got from their security personnel.

Once I turned around and was heading back east, all the views were on my left.  Driving on the left-hand side with the steering wheel on the left allowed me to try something.  On sections of the road where I could see there was no other traffic, I’d slow down (or stop) so I could take a picture from the car without getting out.  Coming back, I also noticed a few pull-off points which I’d missed earlier.  I was able to get a number of fabulous shots that way.  People always tell me my pictures look like postcards.  That’s because I know how to frame my shot and zoom in when necessary.

As a quick aside, at various times speaking to the locals, they would make a comment they could tell who the tourists were because they’d try to drive on the wrong side of the road.  I only had one instance of that on the entire time on the island.  When coming back from the Renaissance, and approaching the T-intersection (where 69 met the North Shore Road), a white minivan made a left turn into my lane.  A couple toots of my horn got their attention, and they got back on their side with an apologetic wave.  The horn was used a lot down here, especially to indicate you’re giving someone the opportunity to make a turn or such.

Once I arrived at Eat (actually the official name of the place was “Eat @ Cane Bay,” including the “@” symbol), I got a grilled chicken sandwich.  Eat was pricier than some of the other places, so I wouldn’t make that a regular stop when I was a resident.  It’s a two-level building, with the upper story being all the outdoor dining area which faced Cane Bay Beach across the road.  The views were good.  I sat at the bar area, which was on the side of the building where the parking lot was.  The bar was the front corner of the building, so the bartender would stand with his back to the beach.  It gave the appearance that all the liquor bottles were stacked along the railing.  I’m sure there was something there to keep the bottles from being slid back too far.  I did notice among the booze was a bottle of Tito’s Vodka, which was brewed in Austin.

While Eat @ Cane Bay also had a yoga studio, there was a dive shop behind the restaurant, called Cane Bay Dive Shop.  It was one of the five-star PADI places I’d read about, and had been on my list of things to look for (which I’d unfortunately forgotten to bring with me).  I spoke to someone there about doing a certification course.  While they were booked for today, I could sign up for the course the next day (which would take a couple hours).  Damn, I wished I’d recalled this, or stumbled upon it earlier.  I certainly had the time to do so (and it’d be worth the cash to drop doing, because it’d be cheaper than doing the two-week course at home), but I wouldn’t have any time left in the day to enjoy an actual dive on Friday.  And there was a safety reason kept from doing so.

After having done some dives, you had to wait at least twenty-four hours before boarding a plane, due to the way the pressure changes on your body (and the build-up of nitrogen bubbles).  All the dive manuals went in more detail as to the scientific reason why, and it implied a “short shallow dive” might be okay, since I was on this trip solo, I didn’t have anyone to keep an eye on me during the flight back.  The more experienced divers will probably say that I could’ve done that and been okay, but I’m a novice in this discipline, so I have to err on the side of caution.

Cane Bay Beach had a bunch of people sunning or swimming.  It’s a long beach, but not very wide (similar to that of the Palms) and without the coral walls and sea grass (as evident by the blueness of the water).  As there weren’t any resorts within walking distance, I’m not sure where all these people came from.  There were a lot of rental villas along North Shore Road, but why would you come to a public beach when you have one within walking distance where you’re staying?  As they’re public beaches, alcohol shouldn’t be allowed on them, but I did spot a number of people carrying open containers.  One lady set up her beach chair, pulled out a beer, and then handed a juice bottle to her young (pre-teen) daughter.  Nothing like setting a good example.

Along the area was also a place called “Off the Wall.”  Had I not already made plans to eat at Eat (love that way that sounds), I would’ve tried that small establishment.  They had a sign out front which said “No shirt, no shoes, no problem” which I found amusing.  By the way, this section of the island contains one of the most spectacular dives, where the ocean floor drops off in a sharp vertical shelf, which is referred to as “The Wall.”  Obviously this nearby pub was appropriately named.

Heading back along Route 80, I happened to see the tower of an old sugar cane mill.  I must’ve missed it when I came this way earlier, as I was looking at the coastline on the other side of the road.  It appeared there was a dirt driveway leading up to it, so I went up to the top of the hill so I could get some pictures from there.  The road I went up also brought me to the backside of someone’s driveway (or at least it looked that way).  I wasn’t going to stay too long, in case somebody had an issue with that.

The tower, or turret, was open to the top, and empty of any machinery, so it was just a circular stone structure.  I was able to stand on the steps on the tower to take some panoramic shots to capture how the lay of the land went.  There was also an above-ground grave nearby too.  Had that not been pointed out to me back at the Whim, I probably would’ve thought it was just a long white storage box.  There was no other marker to say who was buried here (or when that was).  I have to admit, I could deal with that being the view my body would have once I’ve gone on to the next stage.

Coming back towards the marina at Salt River Bay, I saw another road which went back towards the coast.  It wasn’t on my map, and it was paved, so a short investigation was in order.  After going past a bunch of driveways for rental villas, it took me to a place which was marked as the site of Columbus’ second landing in 1493.  Other than a plaque, there wasn’t anything else there of historical worth.

A quick scout of the Salt River Bay marina also turned up a bar called the Pirates’ Tavern.  No need to buy a drink there when I can do it at the Palms and not worry about having to drive.

Heading back to Route 75 (which would bring me back to the Palms), I passed another road called Route 78.  On my map it was marked as a “four-wheel drive only” road.  I doubted Coral was powerful enough to make up what appeared to be a hilly road, so I decided not to take the chance.  Hertz had told me I’m responsible for the vehicle if I take over “four-wheel drive only” roads when I shouldn’t.  That time out on Turks & Caicos when we followed the directions on a napkin which took us far into the Wheeland section of the island on a dusty dirty road came to mind.  I was pretty comfortable driving the island by now, and pretty familiar with it, I was still a stranger in a strange land.  I wasn’t sure if AAA Roadside Assistance covered out here, so why take stupid chances.  The road I drove through St. Croix’s rain forest wasn’t marked as a “four-wheel drive only,” but there were a number of pot hole hazards.  I was sure there would be more of the same there.

Once back at the Palms, I spent some time today soaking up the rays so I could come back darker than I’d left.  Since I walk the dog every afternoon, during the hottest part of the Texas day, I had a pretty good base tan going.  I’d only used about a quarter of the suntan lotion I’d brought with me (the SPF 75 stuff), and once had opened the bug spray (which was also SPF 30, by the way).  It wasn’t as buggy as the travel manuals said it could be, and I hadn’t spent a lot of time out in the hottest part of the St. Croix day (which was the few hours on either side of Noon).  If I’d encountered someone who I thought could’ve used them, I would’ve handed them off.

After a sufficient time of sun worshiping, on the way back to my room, I met a couple who were sitting on the beach near my villa, watching their toddler play in the water.  They rattled off their names too fast for me to catch, but he was from Kerrville and she originally was from Corpus Christi.  More damn Texans!  At least these were ex-pats who lived here now.  He worked as a Federal Marshall, and was friends with the owner of the Palms, thus was allowed beach access.  They gave me as much of the same “reality check” information that Ron had given me over the phone a few days earlier, so getting that from another source was a nice way to confirm that.

I had my afternoon (6pm) drinks with the Houston group before they went off to dinner.  I stayed here, because while I have food at the room, I spent more my money on lunch instead.  Tonight I did have some mozz sticks at the bar, as Shelly and Hannah came in for a drink.  They were leaving about Friday noon, so that was their last outing.  They never did get over to Buck Island.  Shelly said they’d turned in their rental car today, and were going to take a taxi over to the airport tomorrow.  Since I needed to remember the route to get back to the airport anyway, I offered to drive them over to save their taxi cost (which they said would’ve been at least $50).  Shelly declined, as she didn’t want me to have to spend the day waiting around for them.  Well, if you let me know what time you want to leave for airport, then I won’t have to be “waiting around.”  Besides, I told them, that early in the morning I’m out walking the beach and/or swimming anyway, so I would be available.  The offer was appreciated, but politely declined.  Once their drinks were done (Hannah’s first legal drink), they sat for a short period, and then headed back to their rooms.

While waiting for my food to arrive, Angie did get back to me.  I called her back later after I’d eaten.  She mentioned she had talked to her landlord, an attorney named Kurt Otto, who’s been on the island for about thirty years (and had an office in Christiansted).  She gave me his number so I could talk to him tomorrow.  Angie also gave me a number of island tidbits, some I’d heard before, and some that I hadn’t.  After that, I had another drink and enjoyed the ocean sounds on the patio.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Renaissance Carambola Resort:  http://carambolaresortstcroix.com/Default.aspx?source=Google+carambola+beach+resort+virgin+islands&gclid=COHCpNbk7rkCFejm7Aodi0YAZQ

            Eat @ Cane Bay:  http://www.eatatcanebay.com/

            Cane Bay Dive Shop:  http://www.canebayscuba.com/

            Off the Wall:  http://www.otwstx.com/

            Pirates’ Tavern:  http://www.stcroixthisweek.com/dining/pirates-tavern.html

            Buck Island:  http://www.nps.gov/buis/index.htm

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St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Five: Frederiksted, Estate Whim Museum)

DAY FIVE:  Wednesday, 8 August 2012

            Every morning getting up to watch the sun rise with the sound of the gentle waves was what I wanted to have every day.  I’d follow that with a walk up and down the beach a couple times too.  Today was no exception.  I’ve logged more miles on my pedometer this week than I have any other week.  Just that different level of activity was great.  Of course, I can’t wear the pedometer when I do my morning swim (and walk within the water), but I can guestimate how much additional I’ve traveled.  The “blinking battery” message was still appearing on the pedometer, and I was going to run that battery as far as I could before I decided to change it.

I did want to note this morning as I sat on the patio watching the sunrise, and catching up on this journal, a mongoose came up to the edge of the steps, looked at me for a few moments, and then went into the shrubs.  During the time we watched each other, I wondered if I could’ve reach over for my camera, unzip it out of its case, and turn it on in order to get a picture.  The mongoose didn’t hang around long enough for that, but it was still nice to see it.

Once my morning activities had been done, I decided to venture to Frederiksted, find a place for lunch, and head into the island’s rain forest.  Looking at the map, I figured I’d try Route 72 (because I hadn’t been on it yet), and that could bring me to Route 70, which I’d then follow directly to Frederiksted.  From there, I’d either grab 76 or 58, and then come back east (as those two routes joined each other, so I figured it didn’t matter which one I took).

Route 72 went past what was considered farm (or grazing) land out here, and then the smooth road became rather bumpy.  With the signs not being present (or in some cases very visible), I missed the turn off for Route 69 (which would’ve brought me to 70).  I found myself on 76, which headed into the rain forest.

This was the most-narrow and curvy roads I’d encountered, all as it went up in elevation.  The drive out to Point Udall wasn’t this winding.  This was also the most pot holed road I’d found, and I didn’t see any spray paint marks.  I had to go into the oncoming lane a couple times to drive around some of the major ones.  It looked like someone had cut a trail on the path of least-resistance through the jungle, and then paved a road behind it.  I probably could’ve opened the window and stuck my hand out to grab the hanging vines.  The jungle was that close, and it also made a canopy of the road that way.  I was not seeing sky, just some filtered sunlight.

Sure the drive was an adventure in itself, but I wanted some place I could pull over to take a picture of the terrain, and I had neither.  The road did briefly level out, and then I started descending, all without a vista point.  So I did drive up to the highest point on the island, but had no way to document it.  Even where the road leveled out, there were so many trees that I would not have been able to see anything.

I did pass the entrance to the Lawaetz Museum, which was the former residence of a Danish West Indian family.  The entrance was washed out, and I didn’t see any other way to get in there.  I couldn’t even tell if the Museum was still in operation, much less open, so I passed on that.  I also went past a side-road where I could see the “beer guzzling pigs.”  I slowed down and looked at the establishment, but something about it screamed Deliverance to me, so I decided not to see it.  In all honesty, that really didn’t sound that impressive.

Eventually I emerged from the rain forest and found myself at the junction for Route 63, and a south turn would bring me to Frederiksted.  There still weren’t any places to pull over for a picture.  If I’d done north, I would’ve followed the coast up into a hilly region where I’d have to turn around and come back this way.  There was traffic coming behind me, so I couldn’t really study the map at this point.  From the quick look that I could take at the information I had, it didn’t appear there were any attractions up that way.  South I would head.

Just north of Frederiksted, I was able to pull into Frederiksted Beach.  I was able to get a shot of the western ocean edge, and some of Frederiksted Pier, where the cruise ships would dock during tourist season.  Even though I was still a few blocks from where the pier jutted out from the city, I could tell the pier was very long.  A conservative estimate would be four-to-six city blocks.  There was a small building at the far end of the dock, and one of two cars there, so that was what I used as my points of reference to gauge the distance.  I didn’t stray far from Coral due to some to street people hanging nearby, which slowly started to venture closer.  I still hoped to be able to have lunch in Frederiksted, or at least nearby.

Christiansted was pristine compared to Frederiksted, and I thought most of Christiansted looked so-so.  Frederiksted had one main drag, which was very narrow (barely enough for two cars to pass each other), and it appeared to be very slummy.  This was the hood of the island.  Over half of the store-fronts were boarded-up or abandoned.  The only place I saw to park would’ve been on a side-street, which looked even worse.  There were lots of street people hanging about.  Even if I did find a place to park, I wasn’t going to walk anywhere.  It just wouldn’t be a smart idea.

At one intersection, I saw a one-story building on the corner with a dark red or maroon paint job on it.  No signs above it to let you know what it was.  I had to wait for the traffic to pass just enough to see the entrance door which had the image of Colonel Sanders on the door.  Wow, welcome to the ghetto KFC.  The only other national chain I saw was what appeared to be a Ben & Jerry’s Creamery, which was connected to a corner store.  The next street over (the one closest to the Pier) was suppose to be where all the tourist shops were, but considering what this street looked like, I had no desire to go down it.  While I figured it wouldn’t look much different, I’m sure I’d still have the parking situation to deal with.

There were less road signs visible in Frederiksted than anywhere else, and I had to circle around the block three times before I was able to find where Route 70 left Frederiksted.  That gave me a nice close view of the side street slums.  When I was planning this trip initially (back in December 2011), I’d considered staying in Frederiksted just so I could get a sunset view.  I didn’t do so, because of the bad reviews I read about the area, and not being able to locate a place which served all three meals on site.  I’m so glad I didn’t stay there, because I never would’ve left the area, and certainly not felt safe.  I’ll wait until I get outside of this section before looking for a place to have lunch.  And I didn’t see any of the places which Jean had mentioned.

When I was at the Captain Morgan factory, the Dallas group mentioned a place called Armstrong’s, which was supposed to have “the best ice cream on the island.”  A few minutes after leaving Frederiksted, I did see that place.  As it was a deli, too, there was my lunch destination.  I got a turkey and cheese sandwich with a chocolate milkshake, both of which were descent.  The milkshake was so thick, that I could barely drink it.  If I brought along with me, it would eventually melt enough for me to be able to do so.  A cop was having lunch there, too, but he didn’t have a uniform on (his badge was on his gun belt), so he must’ve been the equivalent of a Ranger.

Heading back east on 70, I stopped at the Estate Whim.  This was an old sugar plantation building which you can wander around, and check out the grounds.  (All the neighborhoods are referred to as “estates,” probably after the plantations which had once covered the island.)  It was a nice piece of history to see.  There was a main “manor house,” which had three rooms (a bedroom, a foyer-dining room, and a leisure sitting room, as this had previously been a bachelor’s dwelling).

There were also a number of other smaller structures near the “manor house,” which contained the kitchens, storage facilities for personal goods, and slaves quarters.  Many of the buildings had not been restored, and were in serious need of attention.  I did comment that due to the historical nature of this, I hoped that these would be restored before it was too late to do so (a few were already to that point).  History is too precious to lose.

There was a couple, who remembered me from the plane coming into St. Croix, who was at Estate Whim with their native friend, so I just tagged along with them.  (The young gentleman commented that he listened to me tell the lady who sat next to me about how I wanted to move to the island, which he thought was a great idea.)  While the “manor house” did have a person present to explain the history of that specific building, and who lived there, the rest of the museum was set up as a self-guided tour.  The couple’s native friend was able to explain most of the stuff, so it was a better experience than just simply wandering around and reading from the tour booklet.

Sugar plantations were worked by slaves from Africa.  That’s just the history of the area.  The native turned to her friends (who were also black) and said “So we got to harvest sugar cane, while you guys got to pick cotton.”  I was amused at the candidness of it, and there was no negativity directed back at “the white guy.”

The native lady also pointed out there were a few graves at the edge of the Whim, which were recent burials.  She only mentioned it because here the dead are buried above ground in small white tombs, which were no bigger than the caskets they held.  The island’s not “below sea level the way Louisiana is” (quoting the lady), so she wasn’t sure why it was done that way.  She also commented if we went up Route 70 a couple miles, there was a large graveyard where you could see that.  I had seen that from the road when I was heading towards Cruzan yesterday, but thought the “white items” I was seeing were just monuments, and hadn’t given it any other thought.

Also at the Whim, I was able to try one of the local foods called a Johnny Cake.  It’s a flat fried piece of bread.  These are similar to the fritters or funnel cakes you get a country fair.  Mine had cinnamon on it.  Nice snack.  I’d left my milkshake in the car during the tour, so it could “soften,” and that would be another nice snack.

We came into the gift shop next to the “manor house,” and the young lady from the plane became focused on the stuff there.  I could tell her boyfriend was less-interesting in the gifts, and it looked like they were going to be there for a bit.  I separated from them in order to finish exploring the area.  There was a place called “The Granny House,” which initially looked like it was assorted with the actual plantation, but turned out to be house from the 1920s where a lady had lived there for some eighty years.  While the design was that of a small cottage with rooms partitioned off, it really wasn’t that historical as the interior had been updated during the time it was inhabited.

I saved the plantation turret for the last of my tour, as I’d waited for some other visitors to vacate the area.  The turret was a windmill, which still had the machines inside which helped flatten out the sugar cane.

Next to it was also a manual machine (with an animal path to power it), and a large storage tower.  It didn’t make a lot of sense to me to store it that way.  The base of the tower was a twenty-foot square, and went up a couple hundred feet.  Any entrance ways had been sealed (probably for safety reasons).  I got some good pictures though.

I then returned back to the Palms, where I was able to spend a couple hours sitting out on the beach, and soaking up the sun while I journalled or read.  I sat with Helen, who was the spouse of one the divers of the Houston group.  She doesn’t dive, but just goes on all the trips so she can take the local tours, as well as enjoying the beach.  She said she’s good with the fact that she the only one of the group which wasn’t a diver.  Helen said that she had a rental, and tried driving around the island, but found it too confusing.  She also commented there weren’t too many places she’d found for a good lunch, and I had to partially agree with her on that.

I snacked in my room, and then headed to the bar to await the “Caribbean BBQ Night.”  The rest of the Houston crew slowly filtered in, and we socialized until it was time to actually sit down for dinner.  This was being catered, not cooked by the resort, so there was some initial confusion from the greeter because he didn’t realize so many resort guests were go to be present.  It was listed on the “Events of the Week” flyer we had in our rooms, so it’s shouldn’t have been a surprise.  Seems part of the confusion came from the fact part of this had also been done as part of a wedding reception.

We secured our tables, and then headed to the buffet line.  There were a couple different types of pasta salads, some vegetable sides, and rolls.  The main course was the pork ribs, chicken breasts, or salmon fillets, all done BBQ style.  It was fabulous, and we all got a decent-sized plateful.  Once we’d gotten our food and sat back down, then the wedding party swarmed in.  It was a different couple than who I’d seen get married earlier.  This was a larger and more-festive (younger) group.  At that point, the native band started playing, and our quiet little pub became quite the noisy mad-house.  Many locals had arrived also, so the area was filled with people.

Some traditional Caribbean dancers on stilts came in, which was interesting, but soon the music went from the island style to the traditional pop shit which is always played at weddings.  Steve commented this was stuff we could hear at home, and the Houston group was going to head to their rooms, as they’d be quieter.  As I couldn’t hear the ocean at all, I had to agree with that.

Now I did spend a little bit longer at the bar area watching the festival, but this was a more “party crowd” of locals (as opposed to those who’d come in for Monday Trivia), so they weren’t very approachable.  Shelly and Hannah had showed up for the BBQ Night also, but they didn’t know they were supposed to have made reservations, so they weren’t able to partake in it.  They just had a normal resort-provided dinner.  I let them know that I hadn’t realized we were supposed to make reservations either (as it wasn’t noted on the flyer), but I’d made an off-handed comment about it to Shelia the day before.  We hung there for a little bit, and then we headed back to the villa.  Back at my room, with another drink in hand, I was able to enjoy the sound of the ocean without hearing the annoying music.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Lawaetz Museum:  http://www.stcroixlandmarks.com/museums/lawaetz-family

            “Beer Guzzling Pigs”:  http://www.vinow.com/blog/st-croixs-famous-beer-drinking-pigs-143/

            Frederiksted:  http://www.vinow.com/stcroix/attractions_stx/fredericksted.php

            Estate Whim:  http://www.stcroixlandmarks.com/museums/estate-whim-museum

            Johnny Cake:  http://www.stcroix-beaches.com/caribbean-johnny-cake.html

            ###  30  ###