Dave's Travel Adventures: 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.