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My Trip Report: A St John Comedy of Errors
My Trip Report: A St John Comedy of Errors
I did it wrong...You are supposed to be looking at the start of the trip here. Instead, it's the end. So, go look for the starting post, with a header "Overall Impressions"
I apologize if I missed any of the bad words or truly tasteless jokes.
Blue Skies St John
Location:
Drive out Great Cruz Bay Road. When you see the big sign for Oceana, look to your left. There's a smaller sign there. Go up that driveway. There you are. You're 7 minutes from Cruz Bay and in the summer of 2008 at least, away from the construction noise.
The house:
The driveway is up a little hill from the street and can creatively fit 3 vehicles. Walk up some stairs (stone and wood AND lit with those cool St John sconces) and you're at the front door. The door is on the level of the main deck, but we'll get there soon enough.
Open the door and you're in a large square-shaped room. It's the living and dining room. Along the right wall are bookshelves with the typical assortment of titles you'd expect to find in a vacation home. Plus you get old travel guides "See what's new in the USVI! - 1988"
To the left of the door is the living area. There is a wicker/rattan couch and 2 "easy chairs". They all aim towards the TV. It's a flat screen and has a stereo under it.
Behind the loungers (and past the bookcases) is the dining area. Above it is a huge Plexiglas dome. It's nice because it allows light to stream in all day. The house is very bright. Unfortunately, it also allows the sun to bake the tile floors. As a result, by mid-day the floor is too hot to walk on. It also made that area of the house stuffy at night. We only sat there once to eat. There's a 4-seater table there.
Behind and to the left of the dining area is the kitchen. It's small but it works. On the back wall there's a fridge. It is not without quirks. To the left are counters, maybe 4-5 feet. There's a coffee maker and toaster oven. The garbage is in the corner of the counter wall and the oven is sunk into the wall above. It's a small oven, but it can cook a birthday cake.
Along the wall to the left is the range. Fortunately, it's a glass-top. This affords you much-needed counter space when it's not on. The corner to the left of the range is crowded. There's a metal box identified as something like"bread crisper". I wish it could be thrown into Sirenusa or something. To the left is the sink. The sink faces into the room and the TV and is behind a food bar. The phone, modem and wireless router sit there so it's a tad crowded.
Off the kitchen is a bath. We declared it to be a "No #2 Zone" because of its proximity to everything else.
Follow me back to the bookshelves. To your right is a small entryway. To the right is the door to one bedroom (the one we stayed in). It's got a king bed against the left wall (windows and louvers all above it). Along the right wall is a dresser. Beyond it is a small closet with a safe. The A/C unit is in the wall next to the left side of the bed. It's a little loud but it works wonderfully.
The bathroom is to the left of the bed. It's an open room, with stone walls and sconces. Immediately to the left upon entering is a bidet. It does not work. Straight ahead is the sink and vanity. It's plain white and looks a little out of place in the nice stone bathroom. But, it works. Along the wall to the right of the door is the shower. The shower has 2 heads and is walled by the stone walls. There's no curtain or door so you're more or less out there in the room. A small stone "bench" separates you from the toilet. It's a little odd being out there in the open, but we liked it. It was cool.
The other bedroom was down past the one we stayed in. It also had a King bed. It didn't have any dressers though. So, we pulled one out of our room and put it in there. Thank me later. The bathroom seemed OK.
Let's go outside. Behind the loungers, to the left of the dining space are doors. They open to the deck. The grill sits to your right. The deck wraps back towards the front of the house and has a 4-seater table. There are also patio chairs and tables. The best thing, by far, is the breeze. You get great wind 24 hours a day coming in off Chocolate Hole (behind the house). The breeze is constant and keeps the bugs away and the temperatures down. We were amazed to be able to sit outside at nearly any time of the day (August) and not be hot and sweaty. It was great. At night, you can sit and see the houses across Great Cruz Bay, the Westin (with its pretty torches burning) and the homes up on Gifft Hill. You can also watch the planes buzz by between San Juan or St Thomas and Tortola. The deck is really nice.
Walk straight from the door to the house and you walk down stairs. The stairs need to be lit better (like lit in general). At the bottom of the stairs, to the left, is the pool. It's 15 x 30 I think and is a good size. It's got a 'poor man's infinity edge" to it. You can put your arms up on the edge and look out at Great Cruz Bay. There's also a huge flamboyant tree right there off the edge. It's home to a family/flock of iguanas. Watching them was a pastime of ours. There are 3 loungers to one side of the pool.
At the bottom of the stairs, you can make a right and walk back under the house. It's home to the water heater and pump (and the little bar that can be wiggled). The washer and dryer are also under there. It's a little spooky under the house, so don't spend a lot of time there.
To the right of the pool is more deck. There's a 4-seater table there. The deck wraps 360-degrees around the small cottage. The cottage has a small sitting room and kitchenette. The kitchenette had a sink, coffee maker and some plated and cups. It needs a small fridge. Offering the ability to make coffee and not a place to keep your milk cold is mean. It has 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms that both have A/C and seem nice enough.
Pros:
The price was right for our group of 4
Location: It's close to town yet a little far away. No noise!
Pool: It was big and we liked the views from it. The iguanas kept us very entertained all week
Landscaping: There are plants and flowers everywhere. It was very pretty and often the deck smelled of flowers.
The breezes: We can't say enough. We'd never been comfortable on the island before. We were always hot and swatting bugs away. The breezes made it for us
Cons:
Seating: You could rent both houses and have 8 people there. Where do you all sit to eat? All the tables are for 4 people. It needs a bigger table (outside I'd guess)
Broken things (Hopefully to be fixed soon): The outdoor speakers by the pool were broken when we visited. A trip under the house showed that they weren't connected to anything at all. The pool lights did not work. The lights on the deck stairs were out. Small things, but the outdoor speakers really irked us. That had been a selling point for us. We had trouble with the TV in the main house. We couldn't get it to work and change channels. We finally figured out how to do it by hand (fun when you have a lot of channels and can't find the Olympics). On the last day, we realized some jerk had taken the cottage remote and put it in the house. Once we swapped them, we were OK. I wish a swarm of termites upon that person.
Cleanliness - We felt the interior of the house could have been cleaner. We had to buy some cleaning products to get the cobwebs and visible dirt off all the surfaces in the house. It wasn't a big deal, but you shouldn't have to clean the house. There's also a lot of construction garbage/debris around the back of the house. If you are leaning on the edge of the pool and look down, you see trash. A contractor was lazy it seems. Also, the pool could have been cleaner. The tiles needed a scrubbing in our opinion. Parts were sticky to the touch. (ewww)
The deck: This isn't really a con. It's more of a warning. It gets HOT. Bring sandals to the pool when you leave the house. Also beware nail pops. I stepped on one and got a nasty bruise under one of my feet (I was in violation of the aforementioned sandal rule and thusly deserved my bruise).
Our "problems":
We had a few that hopefully were isolated to us. The water pump broke during our stay. It was a freak thing that seemed to be building over time. At this point, I trust the manager and owner know what the problem was and how to quickly get it fixed.
Bugs - We had a large storm and the next night (our last) the other bedroom was over run with flying termites. It's one of things I guess you learn the hard way and only need to be taught once: After a storm, the bugs come out. Turn off all lights to avoid attracting them.
Management: We were disappointed with the management experience. Caribbean Villa gave us a greeter who didn't have a car. From what I understand, she more or less got a ride to the house, dropped our friends off and left. Nothing was explained about the "workings" of the house. When the freezer broke the first night, I called her. She was of no help and more or less hung up on me.
There was a laminated letter in the house with some phone numbers on it. One was for a local woman who I learned was the actual property manager. She was nice and tried to help when the freezer and the pump broke, but didn't seem to view the pump problem as seriously as we did (I may not be entirely fair and objective here I'll admit, but when renters call 3 days I a row to report that the water is off, there's clearly a major problem, not to be solved by wiggling little metal tabs on the water pump). The owner definitely jumped on the pump problem when I called her in NY. She and I traded some emails after we got home that weren't entirely pleasant, but I think both of our nerves were frayed form the week that had been.
We'd give a long look at the house again (if they'd have us) but not rent from CV. I'm through with them and their 5% "service fee".
I apologize if I missed any of the bad words or truly tasteless jokes.
Blue Skies St John
Location:
Drive out Great Cruz Bay Road. When you see the big sign for Oceana, look to your left. There's a smaller sign there. Go up that driveway. There you are. You're 7 minutes from Cruz Bay and in the summer of 2008 at least, away from the construction noise.
The house:
The driveway is up a little hill from the street and can creatively fit 3 vehicles. Walk up some stairs (stone and wood AND lit with those cool St John sconces) and you're at the front door. The door is on the level of the main deck, but we'll get there soon enough.
Open the door and you're in a large square-shaped room. It's the living and dining room. Along the right wall are bookshelves with the typical assortment of titles you'd expect to find in a vacation home. Plus you get old travel guides "See what's new in the USVI! - 1988"
To the left of the door is the living area. There is a wicker/rattan couch and 2 "easy chairs". They all aim towards the TV. It's a flat screen and has a stereo under it.
Behind the loungers (and past the bookcases) is the dining area. Above it is a huge Plexiglas dome. It's nice because it allows light to stream in all day. The house is very bright. Unfortunately, it also allows the sun to bake the tile floors. As a result, by mid-day the floor is too hot to walk on. It also made that area of the house stuffy at night. We only sat there once to eat. There's a 4-seater table there.
Behind and to the left of the dining area is the kitchen. It's small but it works. On the back wall there's a fridge. It is not without quirks. To the left are counters, maybe 4-5 feet. There's a coffee maker and toaster oven. The garbage is in the corner of the counter wall and the oven is sunk into the wall above. It's a small oven, but it can cook a birthday cake.
Along the wall to the left is the range. Fortunately, it's a glass-top. This affords you much-needed counter space when it's not on. The corner to the left of the range is crowded. There's a metal box identified as something like"bread crisper". I wish it could be thrown into Sirenusa or something. To the left is the sink. The sink faces into the room and the TV and is behind a food bar. The phone, modem and wireless router sit there so it's a tad crowded.
Off the kitchen is a bath. We declared it to be a "No #2 Zone" because of its proximity to everything else.
Follow me back to the bookshelves. To your right is a small entryway. To the right is the door to one bedroom (the one we stayed in). It's got a king bed against the left wall (windows and louvers all above it). Along the right wall is a dresser. Beyond it is a small closet with a safe. The A/C unit is in the wall next to the left side of the bed. It's a little loud but it works wonderfully.
The bathroom is to the left of the bed. It's an open room, with stone walls and sconces. Immediately to the left upon entering is a bidet. It does not work. Straight ahead is the sink and vanity. It's plain white and looks a little out of place in the nice stone bathroom. But, it works. Along the wall to the right of the door is the shower. The shower has 2 heads and is walled by the stone walls. There's no curtain or door so you're more or less out there in the room. A small stone "bench" separates you from the toilet. It's a little odd being out there in the open, but we liked it. It was cool.
The other bedroom was down past the one we stayed in. It also had a King bed. It didn't have any dressers though. So, we pulled one out of our room and put it in there. Thank me later. The bathroom seemed OK.
Let's go outside. Behind the loungers, to the left of the dining space are doors. They open to the deck. The grill sits to your right. The deck wraps back towards the front of the house and has a 4-seater table. There are also patio chairs and tables. The best thing, by far, is the breeze. You get great wind 24 hours a day coming in off Chocolate Hole (behind the house). The breeze is constant and keeps the bugs away and the temperatures down. We were amazed to be able to sit outside at nearly any time of the day (August) and not be hot and sweaty. It was great. At night, you can sit and see the houses across Great Cruz Bay, the Westin (with its pretty torches burning) and the homes up on Gifft Hill. You can also watch the planes buzz by between San Juan or St Thomas and Tortola. The deck is really nice.
Walk straight from the door to the house and you walk down stairs. The stairs need to be lit better (like lit in general). At the bottom of the stairs, to the left, is the pool. It's 15 x 30 I think and is a good size. It's got a 'poor man's infinity edge" to it. You can put your arms up on the edge and look out at Great Cruz Bay. There's also a huge flamboyant tree right there off the edge. It's home to a family/flock of iguanas. Watching them was a pastime of ours. There are 3 loungers to one side of the pool.
At the bottom of the stairs, you can make a right and walk back under the house. It's home to the water heater and pump (and the little bar that can be wiggled). The washer and dryer are also under there. It's a little spooky under the house, so don't spend a lot of time there.
To the right of the pool is more deck. There's a 4-seater table there. The deck wraps 360-degrees around the small cottage. The cottage has a small sitting room and kitchenette. The kitchenette had a sink, coffee maker and some plated and cups. It needs a small fridge. Offering the ability to make coffee and not a place to keep your milk cold is mean. It has 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms that both have A/C and seem nice enough.
Pros:
The price was right for our group of 4
Location: It's close to town yet a little far away. No noise!
Pool: It was big and we liked the views from it. The iguanas kept us very entertained all week
Landscaping: There are plants and flowers everywhere. It was very pretty and often the deck smelled of flowers.
The breezes: We can't say enough. We'd never been comfortable on the island before. We were always hot and swatting bugs away. The breezes made it for us
Cons:
Seating: You could rent both houses and have 8 people there. Where do you all sit to eat? All the tables are for 4 people. It needs a bigger table (outside I'd guess)
Broken things (Hopefully to be fixed soon): The outdoor speakers by the pool were broken when we visited. A trip under the house showed that they weren't connected to anything at all. The pool lights did not work. The lights on the deck stairs were out. Small things, but the outdoor speakers really irked us. That had been a selling point for us. We had trouble with the TV in the main house. We couldn't get it to work and change channels. We finally figured out how to do it by hand (fun when you have a lot of channels and can't find the Olympics). On the last day, we realized some jerk had taken the cottage remote and put it in the house. Once we swapped them, we were OK. I wish a swarm of termites upon that person.
Cleanliness - We felt the interior of the house could have been cleaner. We had to buy some cleaning products to get the cobwebs and visible dirt off all the surfaces in the house. It wasn't a big deal, but you shouldn't have to clean the house. There's also a lot of construction garbage/debris around the back of the house. If you are leaning on the edge of the pool and look down, you see trash. A contractor was lazy it seems. Also, the pool could have been cleaner. The tiles needed a scrubbing in our opinion. Parts were sticky to the touch. (ewww)
The deck: This isn't really a con. It's more of a warning. It gets HOT. Bring sandals to the pool when you leave the house. Also beware nail pops. I stepped on one and got a nasty bruise under one of my feet (I was in violation of the aforementioned sandal rule and thusly deserved my bruise).
Our "problems":
We had a few that hopefully were isolated to us. The water pump broke during our stay. It was a freak thing that seemed to be building over time. At this point, I trust the manager and owner know what the problem was and how to quickly get it fixed.
Bugs - We had a large storm and the next night (our last) the other bedroom was over run with flying termites. It's one of things I guess you learn the hard way and only need to be taught once: After a storm, the bugs come out. Turn off all lights to avoid attracting them.
Management: We were disappointed with the management experience. Caribbean Villa gave us a greeter who didn't have a car. From what I understand, she more or less got a ride to the house, dropped our friends off and left. Nothing was explained about the "workings" of the house. When the freezer broke the first night, I called her. She was of no help and more or less hung up on me.
There was a laminated letter in the house with some phone numbers on it. One was for a local woman who I learned was the actual property manager. She was nice and tried to help when the freezer and the pump broke, but didn't seem to view the pump problem as seriously as we did (I may not be entirely fair and objective here I'll admit, but when renters call 3 days I a row to report that the water is off, there's clearly a major problem, not to be solved by wiggling little metal tabs on the water pump). The owner definitely jumped on the pump problem when I called her in NY. She and I traded some emails after we got home that weren't entirely pleasant, but I think both of our nerves were frayed form the week that had been.
We'd give a long look at the house again (if they'd have us) but not rent from CV. I'm through with them and their 5% "service fee".
Last edited by pipanale on Tue Sep 02, 2008 4:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Hotel Review/Report
We stayed for one night at the Morning Star after a week on St John. I used Marriott Rewards points to book the stay.
We got to the Frenchman’s Reef from Red Hook and were notified that we were supposed to be at Morning Star. I don’t know if I missed anything, but I did not see anything on my paperwork from Marriott aiming me to one location or the other. We loaded our bags to the shuttle and drove off.
We arrived at the MS early for check in but were allowed to store our bags and use the facilities. The check in went well enough, but they only have one person so I could imagine it getting messy. We went to the pool to cool off and then to Coco Joe’s for lunch. Lunch was good (a tad pricey), but service was slow. The waitress did comp us another round form the bar, so that made up for it.
We were notified by the bar (of all places) that our room was ready. The room was nice. Quite large and clean with nice fixtures. We had a light bulb out, but someone came right up to replace it.
We walked the Thousand Steps (as we called them) to the Frenchman’s Reef. By the time we got there, the pool bars were closing (at 5:00??). We had a swim and wandered about for a while. The hotel kinda confused us. It seemed dark and not very welcoming.
We went back to MS to change and head out for dinner. Coco Joe’s was only serving a buffet. We were told that FR had 2 restaurants open. Once we trudged the Thousand Steps again, we found them. The Captain’s Café was open but it seemed to be in the hotel’s laundry room. It was dark and dingy. We ended up going to the Presto Marketplace to pick up sandwiches. We shuttled back to MS and ate in our room. It seemed very odd to have only such limited options for dinner.
Noise at 4:00
Sunday check out
Review:
We stayed for one night at the Morning Star after a week on St John. I used Marriott Rewards points to book the stay.
We got to the Frenchman’s Reef from Red Hook and were notified that we were supposed to be at Morning Star. I don’t know if I missed anything, but I did not see anything on my paperwork from Marriott aiming me to one location or the other. This irked us somewhat.
Lunch at Coco Joe’s was good (a tad pricey), but service was slow. The waitress did comp us another round form the bar, so that made up for it.
The room was nice. Quite large and clean with nice fixtures. We had a light bulb out, but someone came right up to replace it. No problems here. I had hoped to have a better view than the hotel laundry…I’m a Platinum Member and “promised” an upgrade, but was too tired to say anything. We also did not receive my Platinum gifts (water and rum balls) but, when I mentioned it, we were allowed to get waters form the MS’ lobby shop.
It was a Saturday and Coco Joe’s was only serving a buffet for dinner. We were told that FR had 2 restaurants open. The Captain’s Café was open but it seemed to be in the hotel’s laundry room. It was dark and dingy. We ended up going to the Presto Marketplace to pick up sandwiches. We shuttled back to MS and ate in our room. It seemed very odd to have only such limited options for dinner. We could have gone to Havana Blue but we wanted something simple and nothing seemed to suit us. I get the feeling they encourage you to go to town and explore the options there.
The grounds were decently maintained but the pools were dirty. The beach at MS was small but nice.
All in all, for the price we paid (nothing) we had a great time. I could not see me or my family staying there and paying the full price. The hotel seemed dated, dark and confusing. Too many stairs and unmarked hallways that seemed to lead to a series of dead ends. We really did not get a good vibe.
Not a great place in our opinion.
We stayed for one night at the Morning Star after a week on St John. I used Marriott Rewards points to book the stay.
We got to the Frenchman’s Reef from Red Hook and were notified that we were supposed to be at Morning Star. I don’t know if I missed anything, but I did not see anything on my paperwork from Marriott aiming me to one location or the other. We loaded our bags to the shuttle and drove off.
We arrived at the MS early for check in but were allowed to store our bags and use the facilities. The check in went well enough, but they only have one person so I could imagine it getting messy. We went to the pool to cool off and then to Coco Joe’s for lunch. Lunch was good (a tad pricey), but service was slow. The waitress did comp us another round form the bar, so that made up for it.
We were notified by the bar (of all places) that our room was ready. The room was nice. Quite large and clean with nice fixtures. We had a light bulb out, but someone came right up to replace it.
We walked the Thousand Steps (as we called them) to the Frenchman’s Reef. By the time we got there, the pool bars were closing (at 5:00??). We had a swim and wandered about for a while. The hotel kinda confused us. It seemed dark and not very welcoming.
We went back to MS to change and head out for dinner. Coco Joe’s was only serving a buffet. We were told that FR had 2 restaurants open. Once we trudged the Thousand Steps again, we found them. The Captain’s Café was open but it seemed to be in the hotel’s laundry room. It was dark and dingy. We ended up going to the Presto Marketplace to pick up sandwiches. We shuttled back to MS and ate in our room. It seemed very odd to have only such limited options for dinner.
Noise at 4:00
Sunday check out
Review:
We stayed for one night at the Morning Star after a week on St John. I used Marriott Rewards points to book the stay.
We got to the Frenchman’s Reef from Red Hook and were notified that we were supposed to be at Morning Star. I don’t know if I missed anything, but I did not see anything on my paperwork from Marriott aiming me to one location or the other. This irked us somewhat.
Lunch at Coco Joe’s was good (a tad pricey), but service was slow. The waitress did comp us another round form the bar, so that made up for it.
The room was nice. Quite large and clean with nice fixtures. We had a light bulb out, but someone came right up to replace it. No problems here. I had hoped to have a better view than the hotel laundry…I’m a Platinum Member and “promised” an upgrade, but was too tired to say anything. We also did not receive my Platinum gifts (water and rum balls) but, when I mentioned it, we were allowed to get waters form the MS’ lobby shop.
It was a Saturday and Coco Joe’s was only serving a buffet for dinner. We were told that FR had 2 restaurants open. The Captain’s Café was open but it seemed to be in the hotel’s laundry room. It was dark and dingy. We ended up going to the Presto Marketplace to pick up sandwiches. We shuttled back to MS and ate in our room. It seemed very odd to have only such limited options for dinner. We could have gone to Havana Blue but we wanted something simple and nothing seemed to suit us. I get the feeling they encourage you to go to town and explore the options there.
The grounds were decently maintained but the pools were dirty. The beach at MS was small but nice.
All in all, for the price we paid (nothing) we had a great time. I could not see me or my family staying there and paying the full price. The hotel seemed dated, dark and confusing. Too many stairs and unmarked hallways that seemed to lead to a series of dead ends. We really did not get a good vibe.
Not a great place in our opinion.
Sunday August 17
Vacation was coming to an end for us. We’d survived the week and only had to get to the airport on time in order to complete our journey.
We managed to wake up more or less relaxed. Since it’s us, we did have one overnight moment of sheer terror. At 4:00, we woke up with a start. Someone was trying to come through our door and into the room. We heard banging and both sat up in bed yelling “Hello?” Then, there was quiet. Ten there was some more noise. We figured that it had to be the person who comes by to drop off the check out statements. But, crap, he damn near barged our door down.
Not wanting to go up the Thousand Steps again, we went to the MS lobby to find breakfast. Nearly $20 later, we had a coffee, a tea, a stale bagel and a muffin. Whoohoo for hotel prices. We saw that the beach restaurant had yet another buffet set up, but didn’t want to pay the inevitable $20+ per plate charge.
We ate in the lobby, overlooking the ocean. The view was nice.
I went to the desk to remind them that I had not received my Platinum gift in our room. I normally would not have said anything, but they made me fill out a stupid form with my gift requests on it. So, I told them I hadn’t gotten anything and would happily just take 2 bottles of water from the store. A million apologies later, we had our water.
We went back to the room to pack up and call to have the luggage picked up. The flight wasn’t until 4:40, so we had all morning to hang out. We dropped the bags at the lobby and went to the beach.
The beach at the MS is nice enough. We found some chairs, having been pushed out of the way by charging tourists at least once and made our way into the water. Eh…it was wet. The breeze was kicking up so we just bobbed around a bit before realizing we were bored and would be happier at the pool.
We spent the rest of the morning poolside, reading and taking occasional dips to cool off. I picked up a cup of ice at one point and we polished off the last of the rum from the night before. It was a peaceful morning and a nice way to ease into the trip home.
My plan all along had been to go somewhere in the hotel to shower and clean up before the trip home. We found our way up the Thousand Steps to the FR. We made our way past the giant spider and the troll bridge and eventually found the Fitness Center. They had lovely locker rooms and showers. We both cleaned up and went out in search of lunch.
Another soggy sandwich for us!
We bussed back to the MS and sat in the lobby and ate. We actually sat next to the lovely lobby bar. If you have been reading any of this report you know that it was closed. I mean, why would it be open?
At about 2, we called for a cab and set out for the airport.
We hate St Thomas.
As we got close to town, my behind started to pucker. And, not because of the hills or anything; just because St Thomas is evil. It’s too damned crowded. Yuck.
We’d spent the past day making lists like this:
On St Thomas, you have to “do” your hair. On St John, women use ponytail holders and guys were hats
STT: Boats driven by Duffman! StJ: Sail boats
STT: You wear pants, shoes and socks. StJ: shorts…flip flops
STT: Roads are paved and smooth. StJ: Not so much (STT may actually have an edge here)
STT: Dopey submarine rides where you get to “Discover the undiscovered St. Thomas on board the high-tech Atlantis Submarine!” StJ: Get a snorkel, idiot
STT: Coral World! StJ: A big-ass National Park
STT: Airport. StJ: Ferry dock
STT: What the hell is http://www.bossusvi.com/ this crap? StJ: Capt Phil teaches you to tickle a sea cucumber’s anus.
The list goes on and on. I honestly can say that I could never imagine spending any extended time on St Thomas. It makes me twitch. I’m a St John person. You either are or you aren’t.
We are.
We arrived at the airport in the middle of the usual chaos there. The lines for Delta stretched back about 53 miles.
Not for us.
Oh yea bitches!
FIRST CLASS!
We had our own little line and only had to wait for the counter people to clear one group of you classless fools before we were helped.
We got checked in and then lugged our bags off to the next station. We did the whole US Customs thing, lied on our forms, and dropped our bags at the angry X-Ray people.
We got on line for Security and saw these guys http://www.virginislandsdailynews.com/i ... d=17627774. Who knew that the USVI had a skeleton team?
Through it all, we got to the gates. We took a quick look at the gift shop (all St Thomas-related crap) and then went to get one last beer before we left.
We waited a little while and then got the call to board. S was devastated once we got on board. According to the waitresses, in the USVI, booze may not be served while on the ground. So, no champagne for S.
We took off on time and I got some good pictures of a Carnival ship that was leaving the islands. We settled in for the flight to ATL. The meal wasn’t nearly as good as the one the week before, but food is food. Te waitresses were also not as nice as the ones we’d had the week before.
We also drank a lot. I think we polished off 2 bottles of wine by ourselves. Needless to say, when we got to ATL, we were giddy.
We had less than an hour in ATL to make our connection, so I knew the bags would not be joining us in RDU. All I wanted to do was make it to the gate and the plane. The bags could get home whenever they got there. Naturally, I led us on the wrong monorail. We went from Terminal B to A instead of from B to E. So, we got to ride twice.
We got to our gate just in time to board. We were among the last people on the plane. We quickly threw back a vodka and cranberry each and took off.
Then we had another drink.
Then we had what we think was a good idea.
Then we landed.
The bags didn’t arrive, so I filled out the paperwork and headed home. Once we got home, the booze hit us.
Crap…we very quickly noticed that we were very drunk. We were fine at RDU and fine in the car. But, as soon as we got home, we couldn’t stand up any more.
I booted my laptop to give it a chance to start downloading the enormous pile of email that was waiting for me and we went to bed.
That was it. Vacation was over.
I’ll add that on Monday, I had a hangover that could have killed an elephant. I had taken the day off from work to play catch up, and didn’t do very much. We picked up The Kid at some point and I was mostly dead.
Vacation was coming to an end for us. We’d survived the week and only had to get to the airport on time in order to complete our journey.
We managed to wake up more or less relaxed. Since it’s us, we did have one overnight moment of sheer terror. At 4:00, we woke up with a start. Someone was trying to come through our door and into the room. We heard banging and both sat up in bed yelling “Hello?” Then, there was quiet. Ten there was some more noise. We figured that it had to be the person who comes by to drop off the check out statements. But, crap, he damn near barged our door down.
Not wanting to go up the Thousand Steps again, we went to the MS lobby to find breakfast. Nearly $20 later, we had a coffee, a tea, a stale bagel and a muffin. Whoohoo for hotel prices. We saw that the beach restaurant had yet another buffet set up, but didn’t want to pay the inevitable $20+ per plate charge.
We ate in the lobby, overlooking the ocean. The view was nice.
I went to the desk to remind them that I had not received my Platinum gift in our room. I normally would not have said anything, but they made me fill out a stupid form with my gift requests on it. So, I told them I hadn’t gotten anything and would happily just take 2 bottles of water from the store. A million apologies later, we had our water.
We went back to the room to pack up and call to have the luggage picked up. The flight wasn’t until 4:40, so we had all morning to hang out. We dropped the bags at the lobby and went to the beach.
The beach at the MS is nice enough. We found some chairs, having been pushed out of the way by charging tourists at least once and made our way into the water. Eh…it was wet. The breeze was kicking up so we just bobbed around a bit before realizing we were bored and would be happier at the pool.
We spent the rest of the morning poolside, reading and taking occasional dips to cool off. I picked up a cup of ice at one point and we polished off the last of the rum from the night before. It was a peaceful morning and a nice way to ease into the trip home.
My plan all along had been to go somewhere in the hotel to shower and clean up before the trip home. We found our way up the Thousand Steps to the FR. We made our way past the giant spider and the troll bridge and eventually found the Fitness Center. They had lovely locker rooms and showers. We both cleaned up and went out in search of lunch.
Another soggy sandwich for us!
We bussed back to the MS and sat in the lobby and ate. We actually sat next to the lovely lobby bar. If you have been reading any of this report you know that it was closed. I mean, why would it be open?
At about 2, we called for a cab and set out for the airport.
We hate St Thomas.
As we got close to town, my behind started to pucker. And, not because of the hills or anything; just because St Thomas is evil. It’s too damned crowded. Yuck.
We’d spent the past day making lists like this:
On St Thomas, you have to “do” your hair. On St John, women use ponytail holders and guys were hats
STT: Boats driven by Duffman! StJ: Sail boats
STT: You wear pants, shoes and socks. StJ: shorts…flip flops
STT: Roads are paved and smooth. StJ: Not so much (STT may actually have an edge here)
STT: Dopey submarine rides where you get to “Discover the undiscovered St. Thomas on board the high-tech Atlantis Submarine!” StJ: Get a snorkel, idiot
STT: Coral World! StJ: A big-ass National Park
STT: Airport. StJ: Ferry dock
STT: What the hell is http://www.bossusvi.com/ this crap? StJ: Capt Phil teaches you to tickle a sea cucumber’s anus.
The list goes on and on. I honestly can say that I could never imagine spending any extended time on St Thomas. It makes me twitch. I’m a St John person. You either are or you aren’t.
We are.
We arrived at the airport in the middle of the usual chaos there. The lines for Delta stretched back about 53 miles.
Not for us.
Oh yea bitches!
FIRST CLASS!
We had our own little line and only had to wait for the counter people to clear one group of you classless fools before we were helped.
We got checked in and then lugged our bags off to the next station. We did the whole US Customs thing, lied on our forms, and dropped our bags at the angry X-Ray people.
We got on line for Security and saw these guys http://www.virginislandsdailynews.com/i ... d=17627774. Who knew that the USVI had a skeleton team?
Through it all, we got to the gates. We took a quick look at the gift shop (all St Thomas-related crap) and then went to get one last beer before we left.
We waited a little while and then got the call to board. S was devastated once we got on board. According to the waitresses, in the USVI, booze may not be served while on the ground. So, no champagne for S.
We took off on time and I got some good pictures of a Carnival ship that was leaving the islands. We settled in for the flight to ATL. The meal wasn’t nearly as good as the one the week before, but food is food. Te waitresses were also not as nice as the ones we’d had the week before.
We also drank a lot. I think we polished off 2 bottles of wine by ourselves. Needless to say, when we got to ATL, we were giddy.
We had less than an hour in ATL to make our connection, so I knew the bags would not be joining us in RDU. All I wanted to do was make it to the gate and the plane. The bags could get home whenever they got there. Naturally, I led us on the wrong monorail. We went from Terminal B to A instead of from B to E. So, we got to ride twice.
We got to our gate just in time to board. We were among the last people on the plane. We quickly threw back a vodka and cranberry each and took off.
Then we had another drink.
Then we had what we think was a good idea.
Then we landed.
The bags didn’t arrive, so I filled out the paperwork and headed home. Once we got home, the booze hit us.
Crap…we very quickly noticed that we were very drunk. We were fine at RDU and fine in the car. But, as soon as we got home, we couldn’t stand up any more.
I booted my laptop to give it a chance to start downloading the enormous pile of email that was waiting for me and we went to bed.
That was it. Vacation was over.
I’ll add that on Monday, I had a hangover that could have killed an elephant. I had taken the day off from work to play catch up, and didn’t do very much. We picked up The Kid at some point and I was mostly dead.
In Red Hook, we got a cab to the Marriott. The driver was pissed off at the prospect of having to take 2 people there. We were thusly overcharged.
My review of the hotel can be found at TripAdvisor. We did not like the hotel. But…it was free so I should limit my bitching.
My long winded report is here.
We arrived at Frenchman’s reef and went to check in. We were early but were hoping to find a place change into bathing suits and stow our bags.
WRONG!
We were at the wrong @*%#ing hotel! We had to go to the Morningstar. We were told to go wait for a shuttle bus. We got on the bus and went down the road a little bit to the Morningstar. I was now exhausted, hot, pissed off, and sick to my stomach.
We found the check in desk. It was one of those little cutsie wootsie tables where you’re invited to sit and chat as you check in.
I hate those things.
A Lot.
We were told our room would not be ready until 3:00 (It was 1:00). We were told we could change in the bathrooms right in the lobby or at the fitness center on the 2nd floor (pointing off in the distance to a building I could not see). Opting for the enemy we could see, we opened up suitcases…right in the lobby area…and rummaged for suits and non-sweaty shirts. The Clampetts had arrived!
We changed, handed off the bags and went in search of a pool.
I’ll admit that the resort was cute. The beach was narrow, but clean, and the buildings housing the rooms were all 3 stories tall and clustered right off the beach. It reminded us of the Bachata. We followed the beach to a restaurant. Beyond it, we could see the pool.
But, we had no towels. So, we trudged to the towel hut to claim our allowance. Back to the pool we went. We had a swim and immediately cooled off. I can’t tell you all how happy we were to be in a pool and not sweating on St John or in the airport. After a while, we decided we’d need lunch.
We went back to the beach-side bar/restaurant. There didn’t seem to be a hostess or anyone to seat you, so we grabbed a table. We waited a while. It seemed that one harried woman was working the whole room. Finally, I got up and went to the bar to get beer and see if we could order. I could get beer, but I could not order food. Better than nothing.
The waitress came to our tables with menus and apologies. I’d scanned a menu at the bar and immediately ordered for us. I didn’t know how long it would take to get her to come back. We sipped our beer and tried to calm down. Lunch came; a Cuban sandwich and a Mahi sandwich. Both were good…but way overpriced. The waitress came back to apologize again and comped us 2 more beers. That was nice.
The bartender came over and told us our room number (I’d signed for the beer with just my name). Figuring the room was ready, we went to the lobby.
We had a room! We found it and were surprised. The room was quite large and nicely decorated. Most importantly, it had a huge bed. It also had a light out in the bathroom. Peeing in the dark is never good. I called to the desk to have it repaired. Our luggage arrived and we promptly went to sleep.
We were woken up about 45 minutes later. The light bulb guy was here. He fixed it and we went back to sleep. An hour later, we woke up.
We shook the sleep from our heard and decided to go back outside for a swim. We’d heard that the Frenchman’s Reef had a larger pool and a swim up bar. Out we went. We walked past the restaurant and along the tennis courts. We got to a bunch of steps and looked up at the FR, looming above us. Our options were stairs or a wooden walkway leading to a waterfall and scenic elevator. Elevator you say? Let’s go!
We walked to the waterfall. I determined that this was not natural; In fact, it seemed to be runoff from the hotel’s desalinization plant. We walked to the elevator and got in it.
It was a glass elevator and had a view of the water. Naturally, I dropped my pants and rocked out with my cock out for the Caribbean Sea to see. S lifted her shirt and lowered her bikini top. I mean…why not? It’s not like we had sex in the pool or anything.
There were people at the bottom waiting for the elevator…looking up at us.
We got off the elevator and were confused. There was less than ample signage. We walked towards the light and found the pool. The bar, naturally, was closed (I suspect the St John health inspector had been by). We had a swim, but noticed that the pool was dirty. The wind was kicking up and we were chilly. We dried off and tried to figure out the hotel. We were confused. There seemed to be a lot of signs that pointed you towards dead ends and not a lot of “stuff”. We really were getting a strange vibe from the place. We didn’t like it.
Finding little that interested us, we decided to go back to our side of the resort and get showered and changed. Somehow, we found the steps back to the Morningstar (dubbed the Thousand Steps to Nowhere by S) and tromped back to the room.
After showering and finding clean clothes, we set out for dinner. We weren’t very hungry. We wanted something light, maybe 2 appetizers, and some white wine. Nothing much. We went back to the beachfront place. We walked into Caribbean Night! Wow! They had a very loud band playing very poorly and a buffet set up.
No.
We found a sweaty man in a Marriott shirt and asked if they were serving from the menu also. We were told that they were not and that the FR had some restaurants open. Back up the Thousand Steps we went. We were looking for the 4th floor. One would think that would be easy, but seeing as the floors were not numbered, it was not. Finally, we found a very industrial/site-services looking hallway. At the end of it, we found tables and a menu tacked to a wall. People were eating. The menu offered such gustatory treats as mozzarella sticks, potato skins and the ever-present, over-priced “Marriott Burger”.
Hell. No.
We saw another restaurant right next-door that seemed to be outside. It was closed.
We tromped inside towards the front desk. We were told that our options were the Laundry room or the Caribbean Buffett.
What? This is supposed to be a 5-star resort and my options were potato skins or a buffet? We figured that it was off-season and they want you to go to town to eat. I didn’t want to. S had seen a little store/market around some blind curve, so we went there. They had sandwiches and salads. I saw bottles of white wine, but they were not labeled with price tags. Visions of $35 Kendall Jackson flooded my head. That would not work.
Wait…what do I see? Lime Perrier? I can work with that. Do I also see little hip flask-sized bottles of rum? We have an in-room ice maker, don’t we? S read my mind and we picked up 2 Perriers and one bottle of rum.
We opted to take the shuttle back to the Morningstar. We got to our room and ate our feast; a soggy sandwich and a tomato and mozzarella salad. I sat on the couch and S sat on the floor.
First Class Baby!
My review of the hotel can be found at TripAdvisor. We did not like the hotel. But…it was free so I should limit my bitching.
My long winded report is here.
We arrived at Frenchman’s reef and went to check in. We were early but were hoping to find a place change into bathing suits and stow our bags.
WRONG!
We were at the wrong @*%#ing hotel! We had to go to the Morningstar. We were told to go wait for a shuttle bus. We got on the bus and went down the road a little bit to the Morningstar. I was now exhausted, hot, pissed off, and sick to my stomach.
We found the check in desk. It was one of those little cutsie wootsie tables where you’re invited to sit and chat as you check in.
I hate those things.
A Lot.
We were told our room would not be ready until 3:00 (It was 1:00). We were told we could change in the bathrooms right in the lobby or at the fitness center on the 2nd floor (pointing off in the distance to a building I could not see). Opting for the enemy we could see, we opened up suitcases…right in the lobby area…and rummaged for suits and non-sweaty shirts. The Clampetts had arrived!
We changed, handed off the bags and went in search of a pool.
I’ll admit that the resort was cute. The beach was narrow, but clean, and the buildings housing the rooms were all 3 stories tall and clustered right off the beach. It reminded us of the Bachata. We followed the beach to a restaurant. Beyond it, we could see the pool.
But, we had no towels. So, we trudged to the towel hut to claim our allowance. Back to the pool we went. We had a swim and immediately cooled off. I can’t tell you all how happy we were to be in a pool and not sweating on St John or in the airport. After a while, we decided we’d need lunch.
We went back to the beach-side bar/restaurant. There didn’t seem to be a hostess or anyone to seat you, so we grabbed a table. We waited a while. It seemed that one harried woman was working the whole room. Finally, I got up and went to the bar to get beer and see if we could order. I could get beer, but I could not order food. Better than nothing.
The waitress came to our tables with menus and apologies. I’d scanned a menu at the bar and immediately ordered for us. I didn’t know how long it would take to get her to come back. We sipped our beer and tried to calm down. Lunch came; a Cuban sandwich and a Mahi sandwich. Both were good…but way overpriced. The waitress came back to apologize again and comped us 2 more beers. That was nice.
The bartender came over and told us our room number (I’d signed for the beer with just my name). Figuring the room was ready, we went to the lobby.
We had a room! We found it and were surprised. The room was quite large and nicely decorated. Most importantly, it had a huge bed. It also had a light out in the bathroom. Peeing in the dark is never good. I called to the desk to have it repaired. Our luggage arrived and we promptly went to sleep.
We were woken up about 45 minutes later. The light bulb guy was here. He fixed it and we went back to sleep. An hour later, we woke up.
We shook the sleep from our heard and decided to go back outside for a swim. We’d heard that the Frenchman’s Reef had a larger pool and a swim up bar. Out we went. We walked past the restaurant and along the tennis courts. We got to a bunch of steps and looked up at the FR, looming above us. Our options were stairs or a wooden walkway leading to a waterfall and scenic elevator. Elevator you say? Let’s go!
We walked to the waterfall. I determined that this was not natural; In fact, it seemed to be runoff from the hotel’s desalinization plant. We walked to the elevator and got in it.
It was a glass elevator and had a view of the water. Naturally, I dropped my pants and rocked out with my cock out for the Caribbean Sea to see. S lifted her shirt and lowered her bikini top. I mean…why not? It’s not like we had sex in the pool or anything.
There were people at the bottom waiting for the elevator…looking up at us.
We got off the elevator and were confused. There was less than ample signage. We walked towards the light and found the pool. The bar, naturally, was closed (I suspect the St John health inspector had been by). We had a swim, but noticed that the pool was dirty. The wind was kicking up and we were chilly. We dried off and tried to figure out the hotel. We were confused. There seemed to be a lot of signs that pointed you towards dead ends and not a lot of “stuff”. We really were getting a strange vibe from the place. We didn’t like it.
Finding little that interested us, we decided to go back to our side of the resort and get showered and changed. Somehow, we found the steps back to the Morningstar (dubbed the Thousand Steps to Nowhere by S) and tromped back to the room.
After showering and finding clean clothes, we set out for dinner. We weren’t very hungry. We wanted something light, maybe 2 appetizers, and some white wine. Nothing much. We went back to the beachfront place. We walked into Caribbean Night! Wow! They had a very loud band playing very poorly and a buffet set up.
No.
We found a sweaty man in a Marriott shirt and asked if they were serving from the menu also. We were told that they were not and that the FR had some restaurants open. Back up the Thousand Steps we went. We were looking for the 4th floor. One would think that would be easy, but seeing as the floors were not numbered, it was not. Finally, we found a very industrial/site-services looking hallway. At the end of it, we found tables and a menu tacked to a wall. People were eating. The menu offered such gustatory treats as mozzarella sticks, potato skins and the ever-present, over-priced “Marriott Burger”.
Hell. No.
We saw another restaurant right next-door that seemed to be outside. It was closed.
We tromped inside towards the front desk. We were told that our options were the Laundry room or the Caribbean Buffett.
What? This is supposed to be a 5-star resort and my options were potato skins or a buffet? We figured that it was off-season and they want you to go to town to eat. I didn’t want to. S had seen a little store/market around some blind curve, so we went there. They had sandwiches and salads. I saw bottles of white wine, but they were not labeled with price tags. Visions of $35 Kendall Jackson flooded my head. That would not work.
Wait…what do I see? Lime Perrier? I can work with that. Do I also see little hip flask-sized bottles of rum? We have an in-room ice maker, don’t we? S read my mind and we picked up 2 Perriers and one bottle of rum.
We opted to take the shuttle back to the Morningstar. We got to our room and ate our feast; a soggy sandwich and a tomato and mozzarella salad. I sat on the couch and S sat on the floor.
First Class Baby!
Saturday August 16
I think I had mentioned earlier that the A/C unit in our room was a little loud. Some people had complained in the guest book about it. But, if my options were no A/C or loud-ish A/C, I’d always take the latter. Just though I’d share this.
12:03AM
I’m asleep and mostly dead. Somewhere in the far reaches of my brain, through the rattle of the A/C, I think I hear banging and voices. Were I at home, I’d be up in a flash. I sleep very lightly at home because I’m always anticipating that tonight is the night we get robbed and killed…then raped.
Anyway…I wake up to hear C’s voice. She’s calling us. I get out of bed, making sure that all my pieces (I’m hung like a squid(enjoy the visual))are tucked into my boxers. I open the door.
Me: (Squinting) Mrumph?
C: We have a problem
Me: Uggadoowha?
C: We have bugs
Me: (AWAKE!) WHAT?
I dash into our room and thrown on some shorts. S mumbles at me and I yell (over the din of the A/C) that there are bugs in the house.
C and T are in the living room. They tell me their room is infested with bugs. I go into the room.
EFF. Me. Hard.
This trip is officially a nightmare.
Every surface of their room is covered in little flying bugs. C ushers me into the bathroom. On the vanity and in the sink, there’s a layer of bugs about ¼” thick. They’re effing everywhere. I look at her with a look of utter horror.
Me: What?
C: I was asleep and felt them crawling on is
**OK…this is the point where you can scream, puke, cover your eyes or just laugh at the situation. I’ll tell you this…at the time, it was not funny**
Me: WHAT?!
C: We turned on the lights and they were all over us.
Me: Did T take pictures?
C: Yes.
Me: What are you going to do? You’re not going back in there.
C: The cottage
At this moment, I noticed that M was nowhere to be found. He was waking up the cottage and getting the A/C units going.
Me: $*&@. I’m so sorry.
She went off to bed and I returned to our room. I told S about what had happened.
Needless to say, nobody slept much. Every time the sheet would move, I’d bolt awake and start slapping at myself like a deranged idiot. S would do the same.
7:30AM
Abandoning the pretense of sleep, S and I got up. The other 2 were already up and in the living room. We all looked and felt like crap. Not sleeping will do that to you.
Despite all this, we had to leave and be clear of the house by 10:00. We actually had work to do. I started gathering bags and cleaning out the fridge. A return trip to the other bedroom confirmed that, yes, this had all happened.
A little after 8:00, I called the owner. I told her we’d had a major problem at the house and that it seemed like a termite nest had exploded or something, but the house was officially infested.
Her: Did you use bug spray?
Me: We’re beyond bug spray.
Her: We have more guests arriving today.
Me: I know. This is bad.
Her: Termites are bad, aren’t they?
Me: (Furious about all the questions I’m being asked and have been asked all week (pump, fridge, etc)). Probably.
Her: Thanks for telling me. I hope this didn’t ruin your trip.
Smokingly angry, I wrote to the rental agency. Ignoring the “write it and put it in a drawer” rule, I dispatched a very angry email in which I tore the house a new one and asked for a full refund. I figured I needed to start negotiating somewhere.
At 9:00, we had a knock on the door. We were nearly packed, but didn’t expect to be thrown out an hour early. It was “The Lady”. She from the phone calls was here. She’d been contacted and wanted to see the bugs.
I ushered her into the bedroom and she claimed not to see anything. I stood there, pointing at a huge pile of bugs. She said she needed her glasses.
Eff. Me.
Glasses on, she saw the bugs.
Lady: Deys rain bugs.
Me: I don’t care what they are.
Lady: Dey come when it rain
Me: This is bad. Really bad.
Seeing that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere, I loaded the ladies into the jeep and drive them to town. We just wanted to be out of the house at this point.
I dropped them off and went back to get T and the luggage. I found him on the steps. He reported that The Lady had been arguing with him about the bugs so he decided that he’d wait outside. He has realized that killing her was a bad idea. We drove back to town and I dropped him and the bags off. I drove the jeep back and returned it.
Now…the initial plan had been for us to drop the bags off at Connections and then do something for half the day. The flight up to EWR wasn’t until 3:30 or so and we were in no hurry t o get to St Thomas. We’d planned a leisurely morning.
WRONG!
I got back to the group and C noticed people lining up for the ferry. It was 9:40. They decided to jump on the ferry and just leave. They chose to go sit at the airport all day rather than endure any more vacation.
I felt horrible. I felt this was all somehow my fault (travel planners are nodding along with me. You invest a lot of time and get a lot of trust when you’re in this role. I’d dropped the ball (or so I felt)). I know by Thanksgiving, we’ll all laugh about this, but I was devastated…more for the 2 of them than for me and S. We still had a day and a half to return to some normalcy before we went home.
We bid them goodbye and lugged our bags to Connections. I told them our story and they laughed. “Rain Bugs!”
What?
I learned that after a huge storm, all the termites hatch or something and seek out a source of light. Since they had left the bathroom light on and the screens had holes in them…bug infestation
We left the bags there and I could officially say that I’d been to Connections. They’re wonderful people there and we’ll use their services again.
Then, we went to see Ruth.
I danced.
We headed to Mongoose to get some breakfast. I was in no mood to eat, but I choked down some food. We kinda wandered about for a while and were just mostly forlorned. It was hot and we were tired. We did some shopping and then just looked at each other. It was about 11:30. We decided to leave.
We took the Noon ferry to St Thomas. For the first time ever, we sat inside. We didn’t want to be out in the heat. We were sad and unhappy and tired and just ready to get off the island. We both felt bad for leaving under such circumstances.
Thus ends the St John portion of the trip.
St Thomas will get its own entry because it’s…St Thomas.
I think I had mentioned earlier that the A/C unit in our room was a little loud. Some people had complained in the guest book about it. But, if my options were no A/C or loud-ish A/C, I’d always take the latter. Just though I’d share this.
12:03AM
I’m asleep and mostly dead. Somewhere in the far reaches of my brain, through the rattle of the A/C, I think I hear banging and voices. Were I at home, I’d be up in a flash. I sleep very lightly at home because I’m always anticipating that tonight is the night we get robbed and killed…then raped.
Anyway…I wake up to hear C’s voice. She’s calling us. I get out of bed, making sure that all my pieces (I’m hung like a squid(enjoy the visual))are tucked into my boxers. I open the door.
Me: (Squinting) Mrumph?
C: We have a problem
Me: Uggadoowha?
C: We have bugs
Me: (AWAKE!) WHAT?
I dash into our room and thrown on some shorts. S mumbles at me and I yell (over the din of the A/C) that there are bugs in the house.
C and T are in the living room. They tell me their room is infested with bugs. I go into the room.
EFF. Me. Hard.
This trip is officially a nightmare.
Every surface of their room is covered in little flying bugs. C ushers me into the bathroom. On the vanity and in the sink, there’s a layer of bugs about ¼” thick. They’re effing everywhere. I look at her with a look of utter horror.
Me: What?
C: I was asleep and felt them crawling on is
**OK…this is the point where you can scream, puke, cover your eyes or just laugh at the situation. I’ll tell you this…at the time, it was not funny**
Me: WHAT?!
C: We turned on the lights and they were all over us.
Me: Did T take pictures?
C: Yes.
Me: What are you going to do? You’re not going back in there.
C: The cottage
At this moment, I noticed that M was nowhere to be found. He was waking up the cottage and getting the A/C units going.
Me: $*&@. I’m so sorry.
She went off to bed and I returned to our room. I told S about what had happened.
Needless to say, nobody slept much. Every time the sheet would move, I’d bolt awake and start slapping at myself like a deranged idiot. S would do the same.
7:30AM
Abandoning the pretense of sleep, S and I got up. The other 2 were already up and in the living room. We all looked and felt like crap. Not sleeping will do that to you.
Despite all this, we had to leave and be clear of the house by 10:00. We actually had work to do. I started gathering bags and cleaning out the fridge. A return trip to the other bedroom confirmed that, yes, this had all happened.
A little after 8:00, I called the owner. I told her we’d had a major problem at the house and that it seemed like a termite nest had exploded or something, but the house was officially infested.
Her: Did you use bug spray?
Me: We’re beyond bug spray.
Her: We have more guests arriving today.
Me: I know. This is bad.
Her: Termites are bad, aren’t they?
Me: (Furious about all the questions I’m being asked and have been asked all week (pump, fridge, etc)). Probably.
Her: Thanks for telling me. I hope this didn’t ruin your trip.
Smokingly angry, I wrote to the rental agency. Ignoring the “write it and put it in a drawer” rule, I dispatched a very angry email in which I tore the house a new one and asked for a full refund. I figured I needed to start negotiating somewhere.
At 9:00, we had a knock on the door. We were nearly packed, but didn’t expect to be thrown out an hour early. It was “The Lady”. She from the phone calls was here. She’d been contacted and wanted to see the bugs.
I ushered her into the bedroom and she claimed not to see anything. I stood there, pointing at a huge pile of bugs. She said she needed her glasses.
Eff. Me.
Glasses on, she saw the bugs.
Lady: Deys rain bugs.
Me: I don’t care what they are.
Lady: Dey come when it rain
Me: This is bad. Really bad.
Seeing that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere, I loaded the ladies into the jeep and drive them to town. We just wanted to be out of the house at this point.
I dropped them off and went back to get T and the luggage. I found him on the steps. He reported that The Lady had been arguing with him about the bugs so he decided that he’d wait outside. He has realized that killing her was a bad idea. We drove back to town and I dropped him and the bags off. I drove the jeep back and returned it.
Now…the initial plan had been for us to drop the bags off at Connections and then do something for half the day. The flight up to EWR wasn’t until 3:30 or so and we were in no hurry t o get to St Thomas. We’d planned a leisurely morning.
WRONG!
I got back to the group and C noticed people lining up for the ferry. It was 9:40. They decided to jump on the ferry and just leave. They chose to go sit at the airport all day rather than endure any more vacation.
I felt horrible. I felt this was all somehow my fault (travel planners are nodding along with me. You invest a lot of time and get a lot of trust when you’re in this role. I’d dropped the ball (or so I felt)). I know by Thanksgiving, we’ll all laugh about this, but I was devastated…more for the 2 of them than for me and S. We still had a day and a half to return to some normalcy before we went home.
We bid them goodbye and lugged our bags to Connections. I told them our story and they laughed. “Rain Bugs!”
What?
I learned that after a huge storm, all the termites hatch or something and seek out a source of light. Since they had left the bathroom light on and the screens had holes in them…bug infestation
We left the bags there and I could officially say that I’d been to Connections. They’re wonderful people there and we’ll use their services again.
Then, we went to see Ruth.
I danced.
We headed to Mongoose to get some breakfast. I was in no mood to eat, but I choked down some food. We kinda wandered about for a while and were just mostly forlorned. It was hot and we were tired. We did some shopping and then just looked at each other. It was about 11:30. We decided to leave.
We took the Noon ferry to St Thomas. For the first time ever, we sat inside. We didn’t want to be out in the heat. We were sad and unhappy and tired and just ready to get off the island. We both felt bad for leaving under such circumstances.
Thus ends the St John portion of the trip.
St Thomas will get its own entry because it’s…St Thomas.
Friday August 15.
I woke up late on Friday. I may or may not have still been drunk. I also felt a horrible hangover coming. Not good. I’m too old for this crap.
I stumbled to the living room and I think everyone was already up. At this point, T had pulled the umbrella and one of the chairs out of the pool. Good thing we’d been advised the night before by our property manager about that. One chair remained; submerged in the middle of the pool. I’d missed quite a storm.
Everything looked wet and ugly. Great Cruz Bay, never the most beautiful of bays, was brown and murky. The sky was overcast and it was hella humid.
Checking my email, I learned that I had a mission. I was needed! I was part of the cool kid group!
I’d been asked to drive out to Chocolate Hole to take pictures of the little pond and the construction site. Chocolate hole, one bay over, is home to a disastrous condo complex. It’s very slowly not being built and the bay and pond have been reduced to mud. I had a moment of energy and went to leave. S wanted to come and for some reason this took like 20 minutes. I think I got pissier than I should have and made her mad. I seek confirmation here. All I wanted to do was go take the pictures and drive around and see St John’s most overexposed villa.
We drove out to Chocolate Hole and tried to make our way up a hill so I could shoot down towards the bay. Well, there were downed power lines and I would have been forced to go off-roading to climb the hill. Opting for safety, we doubled back…just as Ashe passed us in his little beat up truck. Hi Ashe!
I found my way to Rock Ridge Road, took some shots of the pond and headed back to the house. I then cursed the internet for taking so damn long to upload my pictures.
By about 11:00 I was done. I went back to bed.
Time passed and I guess the other 3 did something or another. I was asleep and mostly dead.
I woke up at 12:30 feeling slightly more alive…but only marginally. All week I’d wanted to make sure I got out to the east end of the island and this was my chance. Snorkeling wasn’t an option, not along the north shore anyway. The bays were all cloudy form the night before. I got S and T to come with me. C elected to seek out the remaining sun and stay at the house.
Up Gifft Hill Road we went and out to Centerline. We headed east. S had never been this far east on the island other than to be dropped at the trail head on Monday. Along the way, we saw some donkeys. They stopped to see what we were doing and one even stuck its head into the jeep. We got to the Coral Bay overlook and S ogled the sights below. Coral Bay really is beautiful, but it’s just too damned far from town for our needs. We’re on vacation, but we still need to be able to get to town in less than 15 minutes. Coral Bay is a long ride from Cruz Bay when you’re out of beer and hotdog buns.
The trip down the mountain into Coral Bay is easy and we all stared in wonder at the houses that dot the hillsides of the eastern part of St John. It’s hard to explain or understand how they get there. The roads up these hills are often nothing more than rutted gravel paths. How on Earth construction equipment gets up there is way beyond us. I have no way of understanding it. I also don’t know how one could live that high up the hill. It’s not the height, it’s the road. How do you get anywhere without skidding to your death? We figured that anyone who can own one of those houses and live in it can clearly afford to have someone come deliver you your food.
We got into town and ran smack into a herd of goats. Coral Bay is where people go to avoid the hustle of Cruz Bay. It’s a tad laid back. We made our way to Skinny Legs. I wanted to get back and I knew S wanted to see it. Well, as expected, Skinny Legs was awesome in its awfulness. It’s ramshackle and filled with oddballs. It’s really a great place. We sat at the bar and had some beer. Since they have fantastic burgers, we decided to eat. I figured we’d all split one. Little did I realize that because I’d been asleep nobody ate lunch. I pictured them all staring at the empty hot dog platter yelling “Damn you platter! Where are the hot dogs? We’re hungry and confused!” T and S each got a burger and I nursed my ailing stomach. I had a few bites of S’s burger and felt somewhat better.
After eating and picking up some shirts, we went back outside. The goats had made their way down the road and were grazing in the middle of it. Time passes differently in Coral Bay.
I opted to drive us south from town out towards Salt Pond Bay and Drunk Bay. I really wanted S to see Drunk Bay. We bounced out along Rte 107 (don’t know its unofficial name) and marveled at the houses. They’re huge and tacked to the hillside. They’re also really isolated. At this point, you’re 10 minutes past Coral Bay. There’s like 1 or 2 convenience stores in Coral Bay. You’re 45+ minutes to Cruz Bay. You need to be able to deal with isolation this far out. But, the road is very smooth and curvy and winding in a nice way. We drive past Salt Pond Bay to take S all the way to the end of the road. We neared Lameshur Bay and turned around, again, not wanting to go off-roading in the jeep. We doubled back to Salt Pond Bay. T and I had visited in 2004 and I wanted to see it again.
Salt Pond Bay has some really devoted followers and I wanted another look at it. To get there, you scramble down along a rocky trail from the road down to the bay. From what I understand, it offers fantastic snorkeling. There were a few people in the water, but it didn’t look that good (likely as a result of the storm). You walk along the bay to another trail. This trail takes you along the actual salt pond and to Drunk Bay.
Drunk Bay is odd. It’s not as isolated as Ram Head (a farther walk down another path from the Salt Pond area), but it’s out there. You’re on the Atlantic edge of the island and if you draw a line east from that point, the next landmass you hit is Africa. There’s nothing blocking you from the Atlantic Ocean’s wind and spray. And, is it ever windy. It’s hard to imagine that you’re probably no more than 5-6 miles (as the crow flies) from Trunk Bay. No 2 points could be any more different and be so close to each other. Drunk Bay is rocky and the waves are always pounding the shore. One does not swim here…not unless one wants to die. All sorts of driftwood, fishing equipment and other stuff washes ashore here. People have taken to shaping the various debris into little statues of people. It’s quite cute and clever. S was amazed by the sights. I wandered about looking at the sights and snapping pictures of the little statues. S was just amazed to still be on St John. For what it looks like, you might as well be on the moon.
We were done at this point and slogged back to the jeep. I drove us back…down Gifft Hill Road and back to the house. The trip passed without event. I’ll admit to working the ATS muscle pretty good though.
C was still cooking in the sun when we got back. Reality was setting in. This was our last night and we had packing and cleaning up to do. Fortunately, all S and I had to do was pack enough to get to St Thomas the following day. We’d neaten up once we got to out hotel.
I grilled the last of the food; pork chops and we ate the remaining assorted leftovers. T and I resumed positions on the deck and discussed the week that was.
The house and everything surrounding it had been goofy, but it turned out OK. JJ’s closure, the pump, the massages had all gone wrong. But, it all worked out in the end and we’d had a good time. We eyed the cottage below us and were figuring out who’d sleep where when The Kid joined us in 2010. Despite the wackiness, we were pretty sure we’d return to Blue Skies.
S and I went to bed a little after 10:00 knowing we had a big day ahead of us but hopefully not too stressful of a day.
Never hope for that when the jumbies are about.
Or the Curse of Captain Magic and Ruthellen.
I woke up late on Friday. I may or may not have still been drunk. I also felt a horrible hangover coming. Not good. I’m too old for this crap.
I stumbled to the living room and I think everyone was already up. At this point, T had pulled the umbrella and one of the chairs out of the pool. Good thing we’d been advised the night before by our property manager about that. One chair remained; submerged in the middle of the pool. I’d missed quite a storm.
Everything looked wet and ugly. Great Cruz Bay, never the most beautiful of bays, was brown and murky. The sky was overcast and it was hella humid.
Checking my email, I learned that I had a mission. I was needed! I was part of the cool kid group!
I’d been asked to drive out to Chocolate Hole to take pictures of the little pond and the construction site. Chocolate hole, one bay over, is home to a disastrous condo complex. It’s very slowly not being built and the bay and pond have been reduced to mud. I had a moment of energy and went to leave. S wanted to come and for some reason this took like 20 minutes. I think I got pissier than I should have and made her mad. I seek confirmation here. All I wanted to do was go take the pictures and drive around and see St John’s most overexposed villa.
We drove out to Chocolate Hole and tried to make our way up a hill so I could shoot down towards the bay. Well, there were downed power lines and I would have been forced to go off-roading to climb the hill. Opting for safety, we doubled back…just as Ashe passed us in his little beat up truck. Hi Ashe!
I found my way to Rock Ridge Road, took some shots of the pond and headed back to the house. I then cursed the internet for taking so damn long to upload my pictures.
By about 11:00 I was done. I went back to bed.
Time passed and I guess the other 3 did something or another. I was asleep and mostly dead.
I woke up at 12:30 feeling slightly more alive…but only marginally. All week I’d wanted to make sure I got out to the east end of the island and this was my chance. Snorkeling wasn’t an option, not along the north shore anyway. The bays were all cloudy form the night before. I got S and T to come with me. C elected to seek out the remaining sun and stay at the house.
Up Gifft Hill Road we went and out to Centerline. We headed east. S had never been this far east on the island other than to be dropped at the trail head on Monday. Along the way, we saw some donkeys. They stopped to see what we were doing and one even stuck its head into the jeep. We got to the Coral Bay overlook and S ogled the sights below. Coral Bay really is beautiful, but it’s just too damned far from town for our needs. We’re on vacation, but we still need to be able to get to town in less than 15 minutes. Coral Bay is a long ride from Cruz Bay when you’re out of beer and hotdog buns.
The trip down the mountain into Coral Bay is easy and we all stared in wonder at the houses that dot the hillsides of the eastern part of St John. It’s hard to explain or understand how they get there. The roads up these hills are often nothing more than rutted gravel paths. How on Earth construction equipment gets up there is way beyond us. I have no way of understanding it. I also don’t know how one could live that high up the hill. It’s not the height, it’s the road. How do you get anywhere without skidding to your death? We figured that anyone who can own one of those houses and live in it can clearly afford to have someone come deliver you your food.
We got into town and ran smack into a herd of goats. Coral Bay is where people go to avoid the hustle of Cruz Bay. It’s a tad laid back. We made our way to Skinny Legs. I wanted to get back and I knew S wanted to see it. Well, as expected, Skinny Legs was awesome in its awfulness. It’s ramshackle and filled with oddballs. It’s really a great place. We sat at the bar and had some beer. Since they have fantastic burgers, we decided to eat. I figured we’d all split one. Little did I realize that because I’d been asleep nobody ate lunch. I pictured them all staring at the empty hot dog platter yelling “Damn you platter! Where are the hot dogs? We’re hungry and confused!” T and S each got a burger and I nursed my ailing stomach. I had a few bites of S’s burger and felt somewhat better.
After eating and picking up some shirts, we went back outside. The goats had made their way down the road and were grazing in the middle of it. Time passes differently in Coral Bay.
I opted to drive us south from town out towards Salt Pond Bay and Drunk Bay. I really wanted S to see Drunk Bay. We bounced out along Rte 107 (don’t know its unofficial name) and marveled at the houses. They’re huge and tacked to the hillside. They’re also really isolated. At this point, you’re 10 minutes past Coral Bay. There’s like 1 or 2 convenience stores in Coral Bay. You’re 45+ minutes to Cruz Bay. You need to be able to deal with isolation this far out. But, the road is very smooth and curvy and winding in a nice way. We drive past Salt Pond Bay to take S all the way to the end of the road. We neared Lameshur Bay and turned around, again, not wanting to go off-roading in the jeep. We doubled back to Salt Pond Bay. T and I had visited in 2004 and I wanted to see it again.
Salt Pond Bay has some really devoted followers and I wanted another look at it. To get there, you scramble down along a rocky trail from the road down to the bay. From what I understand, it offers fantastic snorkeling. There were a few people in the water, but it didn’t look that good (likely as a result of the storm). You walk along the bay to another trail. This trail takes you along the actual salt pond and to Drunk Bay.
Drunk Bay is odd. It’s not as isolated as Ram Head (a farther walk down another path from the Salt Pond area), but it’s out there. You’re on the Atlantic edge of the island and if you draw a line east from that point, the next landmass you hit is Africa. There’s nothing blocking you from the Atlantic Ocean’s wind and spray. And, is it ever windy. It’s hard to imagine that you’re probably no more than 5-6 miles (as the crow flies) from Trunk Bay. No 2 points could be any more different and be so close to each other. Drunk Bay is rocky and the waves are always pounding the shore. One does not swim here…not unless one wants to die. All sorts of driftwood, fishing equipment and other stuff washes ashore here. People have taken to shaping the various debris into little statues of people. It’s quite cute and clever. S was amazed by the sights. I wandered about looking at the sights and snapping pictures of the little statues. S was just amazed to still be on St John. For what it looks like, you might as well be on the moon.
We were done at this point and slogged back to the jeep. I drove us back…down Gifft Hill Road and back to the house. The trip passed without event. I’ll admit to working the ATS muscle pretty good though.
C was still cooking in the sun when we got back. Reality was setting in. This was our last night and we had packing and cleaning up to do. Fortunately, all S and I had to do was pack enough to get to St Thomas the following day. We’d neaten up once we got to out hotel.
I grilled the last of the food; pork chops and we ate the remaining assorted leftovers. T and I resumed positions on the deck and discussed the week that was.
The house and everything surrounding it had been goofy, but it turned out OK. JJ’s closure, the pump, the massages had all gone wrong. But, it all worked out in the end and we’d had a good time. We eyed the cottage below us and were figuring out who’d sleep where when The Kid joined us in 2010. Despite the wackiness, we were pretty sure we’d return to Blue Skies.
S and I went to bed a little after 10:00 knowing we had a big day ahead of us but hopefully not too stressful of a day.
Never hope for that when the jumbies are about.
Or the Curse of Captain Magic and Ruthellen.
Thursday August 14
We’d survived another night of red wine-infused fun and were ready for a whole lot of nothing on Thursday. I’d been tracking an ominous blob of weather that was making its way across the Atlantic for a few days with a wary eye and was half-interested to see some real tropical weather and half-wanting it to go away. It was nearing us and the night looked like it may be interesting.
The masseuses were set to arrive at 10:00, so T and I set out on our adventure a little before 10. We’d also gotten a call from the gardener; he was coming to the house. Visions of really poorly-made porn flashed through my head. We wished the ladies luck and, for the first tie, made a left out of the driveway.
We drove out Great Cruz Bay Road (if it’s still called that) to look at the houses along the way. Eventually, the road more or less shot straight up in the air and I think we ended up in someone’s driveway. That done, we doubled back past the house and out to South Shore Road.
I’d only been a little farther out along the south shore, so this would be new ground for me to explore. On these exploration days, T usually drives and I navigate and announce interesting tidbits of information. We kept out along the south shore for a while. Eventually, the road got REALLY steep…mostly in the down direction.
I don’t like going downhill. The rest of the group tells me they don’t like going up the hills, but the downs really scare me. It’s not that I don’t like going down a slope steeper than most roller coasters; it’s more that I don’t like doing it in a vehicle that I know has 4 bald tires and suspect brakes. Plus, T tends to drive a little faster than I do and is more inclined to take up more of the road than I do. All in all, it terrifies me and I end up pumping the imaginary brake pedal a lot.
Down we went. I was surprised to see how far the road actually went. I knew it would take us through Rendezvous Bay, but I wasn’t sure how much farther it would go. We ended up damn near on the western side of Reef Bay (opposite where we’d hiked 3 days prior). We ended up at the base of a huge futuristic-looking white house that we’d seen on the boat ride back to town after the hike.
We turned around and headed back. After a while, I instructed T to take a right. We were going to go up Gifft Hill Road. In 2006, S and I had taken this road once.
Once.
It was at this moment that I decided I’d never do any major driving in flip flops again. We ended up skidding…backwards…down a hill. I felt out of control of the car and was unhappy with life. Since then, I’ve only driven to the supermarket in flip flops. I don’t like not being to “feel” the brake pedal. Well, here I was again. T took us up the road, driving down the center of the lane, and I white knuckled the whole trip. Damn near scared the bejesus out of me. Fortunately, the road flattens up at the top and you find yourself in a neat little residential neighborhood. But, there’s not much to see. It’s just a road that connects you to Centerline from the south. I’d like to say that it’s a working road, but I can’t imagine how the hell people drive it every day. It scares me to death.
We tuned left on Centerline and headed back to town. We actually had an errand to run. We needed water.
All week, we’d been drinking bottled water. The last house had a charcoal/mineral filter in the kitchen and the owners told us not to drink from the tap. This house had no filtration system and I was again advised not to drink from the tap. Cistern water, I’m told, can be quite nasty. It’s rain water that has run along the roof and collected in a huge concrete bunker under the house. And, on my adventures to find the source of the water problems, I’d seen the cistern. Apparently it’s where all the cockroaches on the island like to go on vacation. Not any water I wanted to drink.
We chose bottled water. Keeping up with the “Buy Local” mentality, we’d been buying the locally bottled water all week rather than pay too much money for big jugs of Desani or something. And no…it’s not cistern water. Down in town, they get water, I believe, from St Thomas. It’s desalinized water and is OK to drink. But, the city water hookup does not extend beyond town. I’d been educated about St John Ice before we left. Apparently, you can go there to refill your water jugs. We gave it a try.
Brilliant. Business. Model.
You go into the building and it’s dark, noisy, and filled with loud things. I think the loud things make ice but all I know is that it’s loud. Just inside the door are a faucet and a sign:
SELF SERVE
$.50/gallon
You bring your jug and fill for $.50/gallon. What’s it cost them? Half a cent? Maybe a penny? At the stores, the same bottles cost decidedly more than $.50 each, so there’s incentive to come refill. Of course, we had 7 empty gallon jugs at the house at this point because I’d never had time to run to the filling station. We filled a few up, left some money on a desk, and then went on our way again.
Me: Hey T?
T: (dread in his voice). Yea?
Me: Can I interest you in a .1 mile hike?
Off we went. Of course, as we set out from town, the heavens opened. It started pouring. And, yes, we were in the same jeep that I just mentioned had 4 bald tires and no brakes. But, this was the North Shore Road and we know it better. Plus, we weren’t going far. For 3 trips now, I’d seen the signs for the Peace Hill Trail and the remains of the sugar mill. I wanted to see it.
Through the downpours we drove. People were scattering from all directions at Hawksnest. Up the hill from there, we pulled into the little lot for the trail. Who should be there? It was the people who we’d met on Monday who were staying at Peace O’Heaven. Only this time, Mom was not in a mood to talk. They’d been up on the hill when the rain hit. Mom was soaked and dripping. We jauntily waved to them as they drove off.
The hike (or walk) was short and easy. We got up the little hill and had a very nice view of Hawksnest on our left and Trunk on our right. We could also see out towards Tortola. We knew Tortola was there but couldn’t see it. The sky was getting angry up in the Sir Francis Drake Passage. We looked at each other and decided to head back to the jeep. As we arrived, the rain started again. We rode to town in another downpour. After a quick stop for more wine, we went to the house.
The massages were wrapping up and I was ordered to cook lunch. Our report from our trip indicated that snorkeling was likely out for the day. It was going to be either too rough or raining all afternoon on the north shore and we wanted no part of either. We lazed at the pool for the afternoon.
After a while, I mustered the group to go to town. We had one more trip to make to Mongoose and then to JJ’s for our triumphant return. Conch fritters would be eaten!
T and I parked the jeep and found our way to the Tap Room to grab a beer. The ladies went off in pursuit of stuff. After we’d had our beery goodness (Try the Summer Ale), we met up with them. I bought The Kid some shirts and we headed to town. I dropped the group by JJ’s and went to park. The polite women at St John Car Rental saw me coming and told me through a series of polite hand gestures that I was NOT to park in their lot. To the Fish Trap I went.
I was walking back towards town when some started yelling at me. I was being yelled at for parking where I did. I just pointed at the St John Car Rental building and said “They said I could park there.” That, apparently, appeased the angry lady. Crapter…this was unacceptable!
I got to JJ’s to find the group sitting at an un-cleared and dirty table. Why? Because that was “our table” and they wanted to sit at it. No. I moved us to one that was more clean (read: less dirty). We ordered our beer and fritters and eagerly awaited deep-fried goodness.
They arrived.
Rut-Roh.
Something looked wrong. They were not only the wrong size but also the wrong color. They were not the golden brown goodies we remembered. They were darker and more ominous looking. I dove into one.
Yea…not how I’d remembered. I remarked to S that they tasted like my stuffed clams. Good, but not a conch fritter. With growing malaise, we ate our fritters. C was very unhappy and didn’t even finish her share of the order.
Since very little had gone right this week, we decided to go for it and help usher along the apocalypse.
Yes, good readers…we were going in. We were going to The Parrot Club (cue the disaster music).
Viewed by some as the 6th sign of the apocalypse, the Parrot Club is a new establishment on the island. To call it a casino would be a stretch. It’s a room filled with video gaming terminals. But, it’s also non-smoking and has working A/C! It’s been bashed by some as just the most horrible thing ever and viewed by many with a shrug and a “who cares?” We fell into the latter group but were curious and hoping to turn around our luck.
So, off we went. We walked into a mostly-empty room. The décor was nice enough and it seemed clean. There was a bar in the middle and video gambling machines all over the place. We grabbed a few and went to work. T dropped in a $20 and went at the machine with gusto. S and I put in a $20 and “oohed” and “ahhed” at all the pretty flashing lights and choices. We picked some game and got started. C also poured in a $20 and started playing something.
I have no idea what we played, but, at one point, we had $36 in the machine. We were KICKING ASS! T was into his 2nd $20 and C had spent all of hers.
20 minutes later, we were bored and standing at $20. I cashed out, got my receipt, and got back a new $20 bill. Free Entertainment!
We had fun. We’re not gamblers and I seriously doubt that a few dozen machines is going to attract the Vegas crowd to sleepy little Cruz Bay. The audience will be sweaty husbands who have no desire to look in another jewelry store or boutique and just want to sit somewhere nice and cool. Some locals may play a little bit, but I just don’t see it happening. It’s in the middle of Wharfside Village; tourist central in Cruz Bay.
We went back to the house with unhappily full bellies. I cut up more leftovers…the chicken would not stop and checked in on the weather.
It was picking up outside and we could see dark skies approaching. The wind was also picking up considerably. Let me ask this? With a somewhat major storm coming, shouldn’t someone from the house’s management “team” have called to advise what to do in the event of major weather? I don’t know...like what to do with the deck furniture…umbrellas, the windows. The house had no proper windows. It has screens and louvers that more or less close. As expected, nobody called. My on-island spiritual guide told me not to worry. I took down the umbrella by the deck table and then proceeded to bury myself in a bottle of whine.
At about 10, I stumbled off to bed. I was too drunk to do anything else. Apparently, I missed one hell of a show. The 3 of them could not believe I slept through the storm. Apparently, water was flying in all the windows and the big dome ceiling in the living room started leaking. I don’t know. I was too drunk to care.
We’d survived another night of red wine-infused fun and were ready for a whole lot of nothing on Thursday. I’d been tracking an ominous blob of weather that was making its way across the Atlantic for a few days with a wary eye and was half-interested to see some real tropical weather and half-wanting it to go away. It was nearing us and the night looked like it may be interesting.
The masseuses were set to arrive at 10:00, so T and I set out on our adventure a little before 10. We’d also gotten a call from the gardener; he was coming to the house. Visions of really poorly-made porn flashed through my head. We wished the ladies luck and, for the first tie, made a left out of the driveway.
We drove out Great Cruz Bay Road (if it’s still called that) to look at the houses along the way. Eventually, the road more or less shot straight up in the air and I think we ended up in someone’s driveway. That done, we doubled back past the house and out to South Shore Road.
I’d only been a little farther out along the south shore, so this would be new ground for me to explore. On these exploration days, T usually drives and I navigate and announce interesting tidbits of information. We kept out along the south shore for a while. Eventually, the road got REALLY steep…mostly in the down direction.
I don’t like going downhill. The rest of the group tells me they don’t like going up the hills, but the downs really scare me. It’s not that I don’t like going down a slope steeper than most roller coasters; it’s more that I don’t like doing it in a vehicle that I know has 4 bald tires and suspect brakes. Plus, T tends to drive a little faster than I do and is more inclined to take up more of the road than I do. All in all, it terrifies me and I end up pumping the imaginary brake pedal a lot.
Down we went. I was surprised to see how far the road actually went. I knew it would take us through Rendezvous Bay, but I wasn’t sure how much farther it would go. We ended up damn near on the western side of Reef Bay (opposite where we’d hiked 3 days prior). We ended up at the base of a huge futuristic-looking white house that we’d seen on the boat ride back to town after the hike.
We turned around and headed back. After a while, I instructed T to take a right. We were going to go up Gifft Hill Road. In 2006, S and I had taken this road once.
Once.
It was at this moment that I decided I’d never do any major driving in flip flops again. We ended up skidding…backwards…down a hill. I felt out of control of the car and was unhappy with life. Since then, I’ve only driven to the supermarket in flip flops. I don’t like not being to “feel” the brake pedal. Well, here I was again. T took us up the road, driving down the center of the lane, and I white knuckled the whole trip. Damn near scared the bejesus out of me. Fortunately, the road flattens up at the top and you find yourself in a neat little residential neighborhood. But, there’s not much to see. It’s just a road that connects you to Centerline from the south. I’d like to say that it’s a working road, but I can’t imagine how the hell people drive it every day. It scares me to death.
We tuned left on Centerline and headed back to town. We actually had an errand to run. We needed water.
All week, we’d been drinking bottled water. The last house had a charcoal/mineral filter in the kitchen and the owners told us not to drink from the tap. This house had no filtration system and I was again advised not to drink from the tap. Cistern water, I’m told, can be quite nasty. It’s rain water that has run along the roof and collected in a huge concrete bunker under the house. And, on my adventures to find the source of the water problems, I’d seen the cistern. Apparently it’s where all the cockroaches on the island like to go on vacation. Not any water I wanted to drink.
We chose bottled water. Keeping up with the “Buy Local” mentality, we’d been buying the locally bottled water all week rather than pay too much money for big jugs of Desani or something. And no…it’s not cistern water. Down in town, they get water, I believe, from St Thomas. It’s desalinized water and is OK to drink. But, the city water hookup does not extend beyond town. I’d been educated about St John Ice before we left. Apparently, you can go there to refill your water jugs. We gave it a try.
Brilliant. Business. Model.
You go into the building and it’s dark, noisy, and filled with loud things. I think the loud things make ice but all I know is that it’s loud. Just inside the door are a faucet and a sign:
SELF SERVE
$.50/gallon
You bring your jug and fill for $.50/gallon. What’s it cost them? Half a cent? Maybe a penny? At the stores, the same bottles cost decidedly more than $.50 each, so there’s incentive to come refill. Of course, we had 7 empty gallon jugs at the house at this point because I’d never had time to run to the filling station. We filled a few up, left some money on a desk, and then went on our way again.
Me: Hey T?
T: (dread in his voice). Yea?
Me: Can I interest you in a .1 mile hike?
Off we went. Of course, as we set out from town, the heavens opened. It started pouring. And, yes, we were in the same jeep that I just mentioned had 4 bald tires and no brakes. But, this was the North Shore Road and we know it better. Plus, we weren’t going far. For 3 trips now, I’d seen the signs for the Peace Hill Trail and the remains of the sugar mill. I wanted to see it.
Through the downpours we drove. People were scattering from all directions at Hawksnest. Up the hill from there, we pulled into the little lot for the trail. Who should be there? It was the people who we’d met on Monday who were staying at Peace O’Heaven. Only this time, Mom was not in a mood to talk. They’d been up on the hill when the rain hit. Mom was soaked and dripping. We jauntily waved to them as they drove off.
The hike (or walk) was short and easy. We got up the little hill and had a very nice view of Hawksnest on our left and Trunk on our right. We could also see out towards Tortola. We knew Tortola was there but couldn’t see it. The sky was getting angry up in the Sir Francis Drake Passage. We looked at each other and decided to head back to the jeep. As we arrived, the rain started again. We rode to town in another downpour. After a quick stop for more wine, we went to the house.
The massages were wrapping up and I was ordered to cook lunch. Our report from our trip indicated that snorkeling was likely out for the day. It was going to be either too rough or raining all afternoon on the north shore and we wanted no part of either. We lazed at the pool for the afternoon.
After a while, I mustered the group to go to town. We had one more trip to make to Mongoose and then to JJ’s for our triumphant return. Conch fritters would be eaten!
T and I parked the jeep and found our way to the Tap Room to grab a beer. The ladies went off in pursuit of stuff. After we’d had our beery goodness (Try the Summer Ale), we met up with them. I bought The Kid some shirts and we headed to town. I dropped the group by JJ’s and went to park. The polite women at St John Car Rental saw me coming and told me through a series of polite hand gestures that I was NOT to park in their lot. To the Fish Trap I went.
I was walking back towards town when some started yelling at me. I was being yelled at for parking where I did. I just pointed at the St John Car Rental building and said “They said I could park there.” That, apparently, appeased the angry lady. Crapter…this was unacceptable!
I got to JJ’s to find the group sitting at an un-cleared and dirty table. Why? Because that was “our table” and they wanted to sit at it. No. I moved us to one that was more clean (read: less dirty). We ordered our beer and fritters and eagerly awaited deep-fried goodness.
They arrived.
Rut-Roh.
Something looked wrong. They were not only the wrong size but also the wrong color. They were not the golden brown goodies we remembered. They were darker and more ominous looking. I dove into one.
Yea…not how I’d remembered. I remarked to S that they tasted like my stuffed clams. Good, but not a conch fritter. With growing malaise, we ate our fritters. C was very unhappy and didn’t even finish her share of the order.
Since very little had gone right this week, we decided to go for it and help usher along the apocalypse.
Yes, good readers…we were going in. We were going to The Parrot Club (cue the disaster music).
Viewed by some as the 6th sign of the apocalypse, the Parrot Club is a new establishment on the island. To call it a casino would be a stretch. It’s a room filled with video gaming terminals. But, it’s also non-smoking and has working A/C! It’s been bashed by some as just the most horrible thing ever and viewed by many with a shrug and a “who cares?” We fell into the latter group but were curious and hoping to turn around our luck.
So, off we went. We walked into a mostly-empty room. The décor was nice enough and it seemed clean. There was a bar in the middle and video gambling machines all over the place. We grabbed a few and went to work. T dropped in a $20 and went at the machine with gusto. S and I put in a $20 and “oohed” and “ahhed” at all the pretty flashing lights and choices. We picked some game and got started. C also poured in a $20 and started playing something.
I have no idea what we played, but, at one point, we had $36 in the machine. We were KICKING ASS! T was into his 2nd $20 and C had spent all of hers.
20 minutes later, we were bored and standing at $20. I cashed out, got my receipt, and got back a new $20 bill. Free Entertainment!
We had fun. We’re not gamblers and I seriously doubt that a few dozen machines is going to attract the Vegas crowd to sleepy little Cruz Bay. The audience will be sweaty husbands who have no desire to look in another jewelry store or boutique and just want to sit somewhere nice and cool. Some locals may play a little bit, but I just don’t see it happening. It’s in the middle of Wharfside Village; tourist central in Cruz Bay.
We went back to the house with unhappily full bellies. I cut up more leftovers…the chicken would not stop and checked in on the weather.
It was picking up outside and we could see dark skies approaching. The wind was also picking up considerably. Let me ask this? With a somewhat major storm coming, shouldn’t someone from the house’s management “team” have called to advise what to do in the event of major weather? I don’t know...like what to do with the deck furniture…umbrellas, the windows. The house had no proper windows. It has screens and louvers that more or less close. As expected, nobody called. My on-island spiritual guide told me not to worry. I took down the umbrella by the deck table and then proceeded to bury myself in a bottle of whine.
At about 10, I stumbled off to bed. I was too drunk to do anything else. Apparently, I missed one hell of a show. The 3 of them could not believe I slept through the storm. Apparently, water was flying in all the windows and the big dome ceiling in the living room started leaking. I don’t know. I was too drunk to care.
Wednesday August 13
Today was our big off-island day for the week. On the heels of the 2004 trip to Tortola (my birthday which had gone well, but expensively), and the 2006 Limnos trip (Fun but too structured), we wanted to do something a little more laid back and fun.
So, I went to work researching small boats and sailing charters. Crap…there are a lot of them out there. It all comes back to price. Because were it not an issue, we could have rented a cruise ship for the day and had Dobermans dressed as water polo players serve us ice cream if we wanted (Whoa…where the hell did that come from?). The options seem to be the following: charter your own boat or share. Power boat or sail boat.
Power boats looked fun, but lacking in some of the “romance” of the sail. Still, I had leads on several excellent outfits. Then…I noticed the fuel surcharges. Gas prices suck and when I saw that we’d be adding a ton and a half of money to the bill at the end, I started leaning towards wind power.
So, a sailboat it would be. So…do we charter a boat or go with a group? Groups make us nervous (so does Meals on Wheels) so we leaned towards getting our own boat. Whoopsie…that gets really pricey really fast. I think we found the best of both worlds; I found us a boat that only held 6 passengers. So, even if the other 2 people were horrid, there would only be 2 of them. We’d outnumber and out-dick joke them to death. I found the Wayward Sailor.
I did my research and found that I’d chosen wisely. Captain Phil comes very highly recommended from all the USVI geeks out there on the internet.
It was only a matter of location. We could do Jost Van Dyke or sail around the USVI. I wanted to do JVD, but for some reason, we settled on the 2 snorkel stop trip around the USVI. Things looked good.
So, on Wednesday morning, we didn’t have to be in town until almost 10:00. This gave us a good opportunity to ease into the day. We had water and everything was good.
We drove to town and noticed that JJ’s was not quote open. There were signs of life, but it was still closed. Hope sprang eternal in the backseat of the Jeep. I jumped out with the gear and let the other 3 go park the jeep. After longer than I would have expected, they returned. They’d had to pay to park.
Excuse me? WTF?
Part of why we have rented from St John Car Rental is that you’re allowed to park on their property. In 2006, their lot had always been full, so we were directed to park across the street in front of The Fish Trap (a local restaurant). Well, T had been told by someone at said restaurant that if he parked there all day, he’d get booted (a $175 fine). St John Car Rental told him he couldn’t park in their lot either. Seriously, WTF? Fortunately, we knew that Slimman had daily parking. It was $15 we didn’t want to spend. This was not the first bit of crap we’d gotten about parking the car. Couple this with the oh-so-pleasant service we got from them and it looks like I may have a new project; find a new car rental place.
The group made it to me and I dashed off to see if there was more gossip or news about JJ’s. (I went to my secret source). She and I saw Capt Phil coming so I went to meet him. He was holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Wait? Only one place that close to the dock serves coffee in those cups!
Me: Hi Capt Phil. It’s Rob. Where’d you get that coffee?
CP: JJ’s
Me: I’ll be right back.
I tore across the street, up the sitars and into St John Spice.
Me: RUTH! JJ’s IS OPEN!
There was much rejoicing. (Yay!)
I made it back down as S was getting the scoop on JJ’s. The bottom line is that it was closed for some very insignificant violations noted by a health inspector who was just out of school. The inspector can’t be blamed for rating JJ’s 110% by the book, but this is a restaurant where chickens wander around your feet while you eat. That the restaurant had stayed closed for nearly a week was just another example of the “soon come” attitude in the islands.
Ok…back to Capt Phil. We met and he explained that 2 more would be joining us. We saw a couple walk up and introduce themselves as our sailing partners for the day. They looked mostly normal. As it turns out, they were on the island for their 10th anniversary and had sailed with Capt Phil on their honeymoon.
We set out for the Wayward Sailor. She was moored out in the harbour. We took the dinghy out and boarded with all the dexterity of a bunch of drunken cats.
On board, we met Tarn, the first mate, and got the safety spiel. That done, we set out.
The boat is small-ish. In the stern, there is seating for only 6 people. You sit 3 to a side and Capt Phil works the rudder and engines right behind you. There’s room for 4 people to sit up in the bow area. To get there, you have to walk/crawl along the length of the boat.
Capt Phil left Michigan over 40 years ago and has been living on islands or boats ever since. He has had the boat for a long time and has sailed it all over the place. Apparently, he and his ex-wife also lived on it for a while. It’s not a huge boat by any means and I can’t imagine taking such a small boat on such long trips. He casually mentioned a few trips he’d taken to Venezuela. Go look at a map. The Wayward Sailor is 30’ long. Go look at that map again.
We motored out of Cruz Bay and raised the sails. The wind was variable so we motored for a little while. Capt Phil started spinning his tales of life on the water and we all settled in. He’s a dedicated naturalist (not a naturist…that could have been awkward) and loves his boat and the islands. I mean…the guy has a glass eye. He’s awesome!
After about an hour of sailing/motoring, we arrived off Great St James Island. I’ll admit that I was immediately feeling a little uneasy. There were a handful of boats anchored in the same bay as us and 2 of them were from St Thomas and had names like “Ocean Ass Kicker” on them. The trip was looking, for the moment, to be a little canned and had lame potential. Fortunately, I turned out to be rather wrong.
I was ushered off the boat first and was told to swim around the stern and wait by the rocks. I hopped in and immediately spotted a sea turtle. I took off around the boat in pursuit of it. That’s always an excellent way to get started on a day underwater. The rest of the group got in and we puttered about for a bit. In a little while, Capt Phil was in the water with us. That was another reason I’d picked his boat. He gets right in with you and shows you the sights. Mustering his group (and cursing the boats from St Thomas), he led us around the rocks.
Sweet Jesus!
We were in the middle of a beautiful reef that was positively teeming with fish. We followed Capt Phil around to the different sights. He did his own thing and S and I tried to stay as close as possible. I wanted him to see that we could keep up and that he shouldn’t worry about where we could go. We snorkeled in and out of little cuts in the rocks and saw a brilliant assortment of fish. It was funny being with him. It’s clear he loves to snorkel the reefs of the USVI and is more than happy just to go off and do his own thing. When he spotted something good, he’d surface and gather the group for a look. He’s pull something up from the bottom (something dead obviously) and explain what we were looking at.
After over an hour in the water, we all headed back to the boat for lunch. Sandwiches and drinks were served in the stern. Tarn had whipped up seafood salad and chicken salad for us along with some coleslaw. It was a good lunch. After we ate, Capt Phil took out one of his photo books and told us his octopus tales. He’s somewhat of a “nut” (in a good way) for the Caribbean Reef Octopus. We also learned that certain sea cucumbers, if you tickle their anus juuuust right, will expel their inner organs at you. In case you were wondering, this does not work with wives and donkeys.
We puttered off towards Little St James Island for another stop. Or, as I heard it called “Little St Jeff”. Some rich dude named Jeff Something bought the whole island for some obscene sum of money. He’s now in jail for stat rape. But, when he gets out, he’s got a whole island to play on. The guy must be odd…he’s got plaster cows on the hillside of the island.
On the ride over, I had mentioned how easy it looked for Capt Phil to dive at the first site (he had on a weight belt). He offered weight belts to us. S and I took them as did the other couple.
The 2nd stop had an underwater arch that we could swim through…assuming we could dive down the 10+ feet to get to it. Belts on, we set out. It’s amazing how much easier it was to move in the salt water with the belt on. I could stay underwater for a long time and not have to fight to keep myself from surfacing every 10 seconds. It made for a much more peaceful snorkel trip.
We got to the arch and watched Capt Phil go through it. The other couple went first and managed to mash their way through the reef. They were less than dainty. S went next. She’d almost made it through when she started surfacing…under the arch. I damn near crapped my pants and dove down to help, but she pulled herself through. She reported that she felt she needed more weight on her belt to stay under, because as she got under the arch, she started having to fight not to surface. I went last and dove down towards the bottom. The sea floor was lined with urchins, but fish teemed all around the opening. With a good kick, I shot through and up to the other side.
Of course…I’d done it best. I’m like that.
At one point, Capt Phil called me over to see some particular sight (Squeeeeeeee…he called me over and not the other goons). There was a coral-encrusted giant mussel that had its mouth open. We had to dive to see it and it was worth the ear-popping experience.
After over an hour in the water, we headed back to the boat for brownies and beer. On the ride back, I got Capt Phil to tell his Eric Clapton story. I can’t tell you it here…you have to go ask him yourself!
We got back to the harbour, bought some shirts, and dinghy’d back to the dock. It had been a great day. The weather had been perfect and the group had all gotten along well. We decided on the spot that a day with Capt Phil was now officially a part of our routine when on St John.
On the dock, the other couple had mentioned that they needed to bring gifts home to her parents. Grandma was watching 3 or 4 (can’t remember) kids back in Ohio. I told them to go to the nest store on the whole island; St John Spice! (Hey…if Calvin Trillin gets to declare that Arthur Bryant’s is the best restaurant on Earth, then a dope like me can declare the best store on St John!) We also referred them to a local jewelry store.
T and I took the gear to the jeep and let the ladies bee-line to JJ’s. We moved the jeep to “more free” parking and headed back down the road.
Frowns abounded. Not only was “our table” not available, but there were no conch fritters on the menu. They were still in the process of opening I guess and had a limited menu going. And, our waitress from 2 years ago, seemed to be totally spaced out. We didn’t expect her to recognize us, but she didn’t seem herself. It didn’t matter to me. I downed half of my first Carib in none slug and was a happy man. We ate onion rings and all had more beer.
I also picked up a voicemail on my cell. After the 2nd dive, it had been chirping at me. As I listened to the voice on the other end, my face screwed into a concerned frown. S knew who it was on the line and was getting a bad feeling.
Thursday was to be massage day for the ladies. My message was from Cary from Paradise Massage. They’d had a death in the family and had to get to Seattle. The apologized profusely, but said that they would send over some colleagues to the house. It was very kind of them to not just cancel all together. It’s worth a mention how great Cary and Barb are and how sad S and C were not to get to see them. They’d become a part of the vacation routine on the last trip and our thoughts went out to them.
Pleasantly sated, we headed out. The ladies needed a stop at St John Spice to take in the sights and smells. We loaded up on souvenirs and noticed the couple from the boat. I led them through the store and sold them a few of Ruth’s starter items. Coffee and spices in hand, they left happy. The woman behind the register was amused by my salesmanship and offered me a job.
Loaded with yummy stuff, we went back to the house. We all had a quick dip in the pool (and more beer) and then S got to take the first shower. She was so happy.
Dinner was just leftover chicken and steak and assorted cheeses, but we all were happy. T and I took up post on the deck and watched the clouds that were forming out to the East. Weather was coming.
Today was our big off-island day for the week. On the heels of the 2004 trip to Tortola (my birthday which had gone well, but expensively), and the 2006 Limnos trip (Fun but too structured), we wanted to do something a little more laid back and fun.
So, I went to work researching small boats and sailing charters. Crap…there are a lot of them out there. It all comes back to price. Because were it not an issue, we could have rented a cruise ship for the day and had Dobermans dressed as water polo players serve us ice cream if we wanted (Whoa…where the hell did that come from?). The options seem to be the following: charter your own boat or share. Power boat or sail boat.
Power boats looked fun, but lacking in some of the “romance” of the sail. Still, I had leads on several excellent outfits. Then…I noticed the fuel surcharges. Gas prices suck and when I saw that we’d be adding a ton and a half of money to the bill at the end, I started leaning towards wind power.
So, a sailboat it would be. So…do we charter a boat or go with a group? Groups make us nervous (so does Meals on Wheels) so we leaned towards getting our own boat. Whoopsie…that gets really pricey really fast. I think we found the best of both worlds; I found us a boat that only held 6 passengers. So, even if the other 2 people were horrid, there would only be 2 of them. We’d outnumber and out-dick joke them to death. I found the Wayward Sailor.
I did my research and found that I’d chosen wisely. Captain Phil comes very highly recommended from all the USVI geeks out there on the internet.
It was only a matter of location. We could do Jost Van Dyke or sail around the USVI. I wanted to do JVD, but for some reason, we settled on the 2 snorkel stop trip around the USVI. Things looked good.
So, on Wednesday morning, we didn’t have to be in town until almost 10:00. This gave us a good opportunity to ease into the day. We had water and everything was good.
We drove to town and noticed that JJ’s was not quote open. There were signs of life, but it was still closed. Hope sprang eternal in the backseat of the Jeep. I jumped out with the gear and let the other 3 go park the jeep. After longer than I would have expected, they returned. They’d had to pay to park.
Excuse me? WTF?
Part of why we have rented from St John Car Rental is that you’re allowed to park on their property. In 2006, their lot had always been full, so we were directed to park across the street in front of The Fish Trap (a local restaurant). Well, T had been told by someone at said restaurant that if he parked there all day, he’d get booted (a $175 fine). St John Car Rental told him he couldn’t park in their lot either. Seriously, WTF? Fortunately, we knew that Slimman had daily parking. It was $15 we didn’t want to spend. This was not the first bit of crap we’d gotten about parking the car. Couple this with the oh-so-pleasant service we got from them and it looks like I may have a new project; find a new car rental place.
The group made it to me and I dashed off to see if there was more gossip or news about JJ’s. (I went to my secret source). She and I saw Capt Phil coming so I went to meet him. He was holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Wait? Only one place that close to the dock serves coffee in those cups!
Me: Hi Capt Phil. It’s Rob. Where’d you get that coffee?
CP: JJ’s
Me: I’ll be right back.
I tore across the street, up the sitars and into St John Spice.
Me: RUTH! JJ’s IS OPEN!
There was much rejoicing. (Yay!)
I made it back down as S was getting the scoop on JJ’s. The bottom line is that it was closed for some very insignificant violations noted by a health inspector who was just out of school. The inspector can’t be blamed for rating JJ’s 110% by the book, but this is a restaurant where chickens wander around your feet while you eat. That the restaurant had stayed closed for nearly a week was just another example of the “soon come” attitude in the islands.
Ok…back to Capt Phil. We met and he explained that 2 more would be joining us. We saw a couple walk up and introduce themselves as our sailing partners for the day. They looked mostly normal. As it turns out, they were on the island for their 10th anniversary and had sailed with Capt Phil on their honeymoon.
We set out for the Wayward Sailor. She was moored out in the harbour. We took the dinghy out and boarded with all the dexterity of a bunch of drunken cats.
On board, we met Tarn, the first mate, and got the safety spiel. That done, we set out.
The boat is small-ish. In the stern, there is seating for only 6 people. You sit 3 to a side and Capt Phil works the rudder and engines right behind you. There’s room for 4 people to sit up in the bow area. To get there, you have to walk/crawl along the length of the boat.
Capt Phil left Michigan over 40 years ago and has been living on islands or boats ever since. He has had the boat for a long time and has sailed it all over the place. Apparently, he and his ex-wife also lived on it for a while. It’s not a huge boat by any means and I can’t imagine taking such a small boat on such long trips. He casually mentioned a few trips he’d taken to Venezuela. Go look at a map. The Wayward Sailor is 30’ long. Go look at that map again.
We motored out of Cruz Bay and raised the sails. The wind was variable so we motored for a little while. Capt Phil started spinning his tales of life on the water and we all settled in. He’s a dedicated naturalist (not a naturist…that could have been awkward) and loves his boat and the islands. I mean…the guy has a glass eye. He’s awesome!
After about an hour of sailing/motoring, we arrived off Great St James Island. I’ll admit that I was immediately feeling a little uneasy. There were a handful of boats anchored in the same bay as us and 2 of them were from St Thomas and had names like “Ocean Ass Kicker” on them. The trip was looking, for the moment, to be a little canned and had lame potential. Fortunately, I turned out to be rather wrong.
I was ushered off the boat first and was told to swim around the stern and wait by the rocks. I hopped in and immediately spotted a sea turtle. I took off around the boat in pursuit of it. That’s always an excellent way to get started on a day underwater. The rest of the group got in and we puttered about for a bit. In a little while, Capt Phil was in the water with us. That was another reason I’d picked his boat. He gets right in with you and shows you the sights. Mustering his group (and cursing the boats from St Thomas), he led us around the rocks.
Sweet Jesus!
We were in the middle of a beautiful reef that was positively teeming with fish. We followed Capt Phil around to the different sights. He did his own thing and S and I tried to stay as close as possible. I wanted him to see that we could keep up and that he shouldn’t worry about where we could go. We snorkeled in and out of little cuts in the rocks and saw a brilliant assortment of fish. It was funny being with him. It’s clear he loves to snorkel the reefs of the USVI and is more than happy just to go off and do his own thing. When he spotted something good, he’d surface and gather the group for a look. He’s pull something up from the bottom (something dead obviously) and explain what we were looking at.
After over an hour in the water, we all headed back to the boat for lunch. Sandwiches and drinks were served in the stern. Tarn had whipped up seafood salad and chicken salad for us along with some coleslaw. It was a good lunch. After we ate, Capt Phil took out one of his photo books and told us his octopus tales. He’s somewhat of a “nut” (in a good way) for the Caribbean Reef Octopus. We also learned that certain sea cucumbers, if you tickle their anus juuuust right, will expel their inner organs at you. In case you were wondering, this does not work with wives and donkeys.
We puttered off towards Little St James Island for another stop. Or, as I heard it called “Little St Jeff”. Some rich dude named Jeff Something bought the whole island for some obscene sum of money. He’s now in jail for stat rape. But, when he gets out, he’s got a whole island to play on. The guy must be odd…he’s got plaster cows on the hillside of the island.
On the ride over, I had mentioned how easy it looked for Capt Phil to dive at the first site (he had on a weight belt). He offered weight belts to us. S and I took them as did the other couple.
The 2nd stop had an underwater arch that we could swim through…assuming we could dive down the 10+ feet to get to it. Belts on, we set out. It’s amazing how much easier it was to move in the salt water with the belt on. I could stay underwater for a long time and not have to fight to keep myself from surfacing every 10 seconds. It made for a much more peaceful snorkel trip.
We got to the arch and watched Capt Phil go through it. The other couple went first and managed to mash their way through the reef. They were less than dainty. S went next. She’d almost made it through when she started surfacing…under the arch. I damn near crapped my pants and dove down to help, but she pulled herself through. She reported that she felt she needed more weight on her belt to stay under, because as she got under the arch, she started having to fight not to surface. I went last and dove down towards the bottom. The sea floor was lined with urchins, but fish teemed all around the opening. With a good kick, I shot through and up to the other side.
Of course…I’d done it best. I’m like that.
At one point, Capt Phil called me over to see some particular sight (Squeeeeeeee…he called me over and not the other goons). There was a coral-encrusted giant mussel that had its mouth open. We had to dive to see it and it was worth the ear-popping experience.
After over an hour in the water, we headed back to the boat for brownies and beer. On the ride back, I got Capt Phil to tell his Eric Clapton story. I can’t tell you it here…you have to go ask him yourself!
We got back to the harbour, bought some shirts, and dinghy’d back to the dock. It had been a great day. The weather had been perfect and the group had all gotten along well. We decided on the spot that a day with Capt Phil was now officially a part of our routine when on St John.
On the dock, the other couple had mentioned that they needed to bring gifts home to her parents. Grandma was watching 3 or 4 (can’t remember) kids back in Ohio. I told them to go to the nest store on the whole island; St John Spice! (Hey…if Calvin Trillin gets to declare that Arthur Bryant’s is the best restaurant on Earth, then a dope like me can declare the best store on St John!) We also referred them to a local jewelry store.
T and I took the gear to the jeep and let the ladies bee-line to JJ’s. We moved the jeep to “more free” parking and headed back down the road.
Frowns abounded. Not only was “our table” not available, but there were no conch fritters on the menu. They were still in the process of opening I guess and had a limited menu going. And, our waitress from 2 years ago, seemed to be totally spaced out. We didn’t expect her to recognize us, but she didn’t seem herself. It didn’t matter to me. I downed half of my first Carib in none slug and was a happy man. We ate onion rings and all had more beer.
I also picked up a voicemail on my cell. After the 2nd dive, it had been chirping at me. As I listened to the voice on the other end, my face screwed into a concerned frown. S knew who it was on the line and was getting a bad feeling.
Thursday was to be massage day for the ladies. My message was from Cary from Paradise Massage. They’d had a death in the family and had to get to Seattle. The apologized profusely, but said that they would send over some colleagues to the house. It was very kind of them to not just cancel all together. It’s worth a mention how great Cary and Barb are and how sad S and C were not to get to see them. They’d become a part of the vacation routine on the last trip and our thoughts went out to them.
Pleasantly sated, we headed out. The ladies needed a stop at St John Spice to take in the sights and smells. We loaded up on souvenirs and noticed the couple from the boat. I led them through the store and sold them a few of Ruth’s starter items. Coffee and spices in hand, they left happy. The woman behind the register was amused by my salesmanship and offered me a job.
Loaded with yummy stuff, we went back to the house. We all had a quick dip in the pool (and more beer) and then S got to take the first shower. She was so happy.
Dinner was just leftover chicken and steak and assorted cheeses, but we all were happy. T and I took up post on the deck and watched the clouds that were forming out to the East. Weather was coming.
Tuesday August 11
The Hiking 3-some all slept like babies the night before. Trust me; a several-hour walk in the tropic heat will drain anyone of their desire to live.
I have to make a correction here. S made the potato salad on Monday night. We were able to scare up enough water to clean and boil the potatoes. (As if anyone cares).
So, we all woke up on Tuesday to yet another lovely island day. There wasn’t much planned other than a possible excursion into town and a snorkel trip.
As we were going about our morning, guess what happened? Yup…the water dies on us again. Except this time we’d barely used any. That was it. I was done. Time for action.
I called the outfit I’d rented from. I was under the assumption they’d be able to help. I got them on the phone…up in Maine (a sign of what was to come), and they told me that this was the owner’s responsibility and that they’d see what they could do. Not trusting them, I tried to call the owner.
I got a confused-sounding person at her office who said she was not in. I left a message about being a guest of hers at her Caribbean house and that I had no water. He told me she’d call back.
(Now…at this point, I actually have to watch what I’m writing because I have to limit my snark here. The following hours and days get a little clouded here by bouts of blinding rage)
The house phone rang. It’s the owner! Yippee! I explained the problem of the pump and how I keep getting told to crawl under the house. I added that this had to be new otherwise this would be happening all the time…unless her other guests never showered. I was asked about the pump noise. I was also asked if I thought it was normal. (eek). I stated that I had no reference point. The noise had been there as long as we had so I just assumed it was normal. Odd…but then again…it’s St John.
Her: Do you think we need a new pump?
Me: I don’t know. All I know is that it’s running really hot and needs to cool off each time before it runs. I think we need a plumber.
Her: Me too. I don’t have one though.
Me: Ok…let me see if I can find one for you
OK...this is where the bounds of renter and owner/manager got blurry. Many people reading this may be shaking their heads at me right now. I know a few people who did. But, in my career, I’m the guy who fixes crap. When things don’t work, I get called. So, this was, in a perverse way, fun for me.
I called the one person who I knew would be able to help me. SUPER-RUTH!
Ruth gave me some names, including one listing that was “A Plumber: 715-0907”. Not someone names “plumber”. The listing in the phone book was “A Plumber”. I love St John.
In the meantime, “The Lady” had called (I think) and asked if I was wiggling my metal. She also said that the dopes in Maine had called the owner. In other news…WWII ended…We won!
The other 3 were watching me answer all the phones in the house at once, work the computer, and curse with a sense of wonder. Not at my skills, but at my insanity.
Finally the owner calls me again. She took my email of plumbers and went and found someone else.
“You’ll never believe this. His slogan is ‘Plumbing gone to trash? Call Ashe.’ He’s supposed to be there some time today or tomorrow AM” (Mind you it’s still maybe 10:30 in the morning). We’re staring at another day of this unless Ashe the Miracle Man can show up.
A little while later, the house line rang again.
Him: Dis Rob?
Me: Yes. Is this Ashe?
Ashe: Ya Mon. I be right there. Blue Skies?
Me: Yup
Me (To the group): Ashe is coming.
5 minutes later, we hear a car in the driveway. I run towards the front of the house to greet our visitor. A tall, lanky, Rasta is coming my way. I greet him with a big smile, a “Good Afternoon” and a firm USA handshake. I get the usual limp handshake of an islander (it’s an island thing).
Ashe has arrived!
I explain the problem and he goes under the house.
Ashe: (Knocks on the tank…laughs his ass off” It goin’ gaching…gaching…gaching…right?
Me: Yes?
Ashe: (Laughs again). Your tank is waterlogged.
Me: Oh? Can you fix that?
Ashe: No problem. I’ll be right back.
Ashe lopes off and I announce to the group that the tank is waterlogged. I’m met with 3 shrugs as they all return to iguana patrol.
Ashe comes back, toting a small DeWalt compressor…and a Red Stripe. Come on! How do you not love a place where your plumber comes to the house with an already-opened beer? Impossible I say!
Ashe plugs in the compressor and does something. I go to the house and gather beer for the group. The other 3 mobilize long enough to be handed an icy Carib.
Ashe comes out and starts chatting with us about his broken cell phone and the day he’s had. He gives us his life story. He’s an amazingly nice guy who runs his own business on the island and seems to enjoy life. Ashe is another reason I love the islands. I hand him a beer (because why the hell not?) and we discuss how he’s going to Burning Man. He also gives a guide to the hillside, pointing out all the homes he’s worked on and who lives in them. We learned that someone in line to the Coca Cola fortune lives right nearby. Bully for us!
Ashe fixed the tank and all was well. There was mild rejoicing in the pool. I was ordered to cook lunch.
I think after this, we all gathered our crap to go to town and then to go snorkel. It had been decided that we’d his Cinnamon Bay. Nothing too fancy, but a lovely beach. And, I got to drive the switchbacks from Trunk to Cinnamon…one of my favorite things to do.
Back in town, we quickly surmised that JJ’s was still closed. &$*@!
We drove down the road to Mongoose Junction to take in a little shopping. S needed to go to a jewelry store there to see if they had a certain gold earring she wanted. Plus, there’s a lot to do and see. It also irritates the hell out of T, so I always enjoy watching him hate shopping. Why? Because I’m an ass like that. T-shirts were bought and we headed to the beach.
Cinnamon is the first beach S and I ever went to on St John. It’s the beach that convinced us that we kinda liked the island a little bit. We got there and the usual wind was blowing. The water was a little rough too, so things were not shaping up that well. All 4 of us got in the water and we set off. I swam out ahead looking for fun things. I spotted a flock of squids and brought the group over. With the waves battering us, T and C headed back to shallower water. Me? I pressed on through the surf towards cinnamon Cay, the little island that sits in the bay. I got there and saw some fun stuff. A good assortment of fish and coral. I moved through a shallow section and noticed a drop off up ahead. I swam towards it and found myself eye to eye with a rather large tarpon. I more or less peed my pants at the sight of it. It was a big fish. We eyeballed each other and then swam off in our separate directions.
I swam back to the group and we headed back. We skipped town all together. I announced that I was not going on any additional conch fritter searched. If JJ’s wasn’t open, I wasn’t interested. Plus, it was steak night!
At the house, we started the showers. S went first and was finally able to take a complete shower. She emerged clean, smooth and happy. The rest of us cycled through as I got dinner ready.
T was salivating over the steaks before they even went on the grill. I plugged my MP3 player into the speaker that C had luckily brought. I say “luckily brought” because we’d kinda had high expectations for the house.
Allow me to quote from the website where I found the house:
<i>It’s wired - for sound and laptops. Multiple speakers in the living room and on the pool deck carry music to both decks. The 32” flat screen TV/DVD entertains in the living room, while the wireless DSL provides a good connection in the main house, the guest cottage and on both decks. So bring the laptops and iPods.</i>
This was actually a deciding factor for us. We waned to plug in and have music down at the pool. Well, after having no luck figuring out how to work the outdoor speakers, T had gone under the house where he found the speaker boxes…with loose wires dangling from them. AWESOME! This reminds me…we spent the first night trying to work the TV. The remote that said “Only use this to turn on the TV” did not work. We realized that you had to manually work the cable box form the floor. Really…we’d chosen a house with all the latest in technology.
In any event, the little speaker had my music on and I was limin’ on the deck as the steaks cooked. I had a rum drink and a sunset to watch. Life was good. I twirled S around on the deck to a few songs and we had a great time.
Dinner was ready and we’d decided to eat outside in the breeze. The steaks were presented with a flourish and the crowd went wild. We all agreed that these were among the best steaks we’d ever eaten.
We ate and then C disappeared inside to watch the Olympics. Cake followed along with much singing and rejoicing.
T and I spent the evening on the deck again, watching the stars. I would occasionally yell to S to go check for flights in and out of Tortola or St Thomas. We were able to watch the planes go back and forth overhead. For a geek like me, it was very cool.
It had turned out to be an interesting day. The water was fixed…albeit not quite how it should have been. But fixed is fixed. Our bellies were full and we were content. We had a big day planned for Wednesday and we all went to bed happy.
The Hiking 3-some all slept like babies the night before. Trust me; a several-hour walk in the tropic heat will drain anyone of their desire to live.
I have to make a correction here. S made the potato salad on Monday night. We were able to scare up enough water to clean and boil the potatoes. (As if anyone cares).
So, we all woke up on Tuesday to yet another lovely island day. There wasn’t much planned other than a possible excursion into town and a snorkel trip.
As we were going about our morning, guess what happened? Yup…the water dies on us again. Except this time we’d barely used any. That was it. I was done. Time for action.
I called the outfit I’d rented from. I was under the assumption they’d be able to help. I got them on the phone…up in Maine (a sign of what was to come), and they told me that this was the owner’s responsibility and that they’d see what they could do. Not trusting them, I tried to call the owner.
I got a confused-sounding person at her office who said she was not in. I left a message about being a guest of hers at her Caribbean house and that I had no water. He told me she’d call back.
(Now…at this point, I actually have to watch what I’m writing because I have to limit my snark here. The following hours and days get a little clouded here by bouts of blinding rage)
The house phone rang. It’s the owner! Yippee! I explained the problem of the pump and how I keep getting told to crawl under the house. I added that this had to be new otherwise this would be happening all the time…unless her other guests never showered. I was asked about the pump noise. I was also asked if I thought it was normal. (eek). I stated that I had no reference point. The noise had been there as long as we had so I just assumed it was normal. Odd…but then again…it’s St John.
Her: Do you think we need a new pump?
Me: I don’t know. All I know is that it’s running really hot and needs to cool off each time before it runs. I think we need a plumber.
Her: Me too. I don’t have one though.
Me: Ok…let me see if I can find one for you
OK...this is where the bounds of renter and owner/manager got blurry. Many people reading this may be shaking their heads at me right now. I know a few people who did. But, in my career, I’m the guy who fixes crap. When things don’t work, I get called. So, this was, in a perverse way, fun for me.
I called the one person who I knew would be able to help me. SUPER-RUTH!
Ruth gave me some names, including one listing that was “A Plumber: 715-0907”. Not someone names “plumber”. The listing in the phone book was “A Plumber”. I love St John.
In the meantime, “The Lady” had called (I think) and asked if I was wiggling my metal. She also said that the dopes in Maine had called the owner. In other news…WWII ended…We won!
The other 3 were watching me answer all the phones in the house at once, work the computer, and curse with a sense of wonder. Not at my skills, but at my insanity.
Finally the owner calls me again. She took my email of plumbers and went and found someone else.
“You’ll never believe this. His slogan is ‘Plumbing gone to trash? Call Ashe.’ He’s supposed to be there some time today or tomorrow AM” (Mind you it’s still maybe 10:30 in the morning). We’re staring at another day of this unless Ashe the Miracle Man can show up.
A little while later, the house line rang again.
Him: Dis Rob?
Me: Yes. Is this Ashe?
Ashe: Ya Mon. I be right there. Blue Skies?
Me: Yup
Me (To the group): Ashe is coming.
5 minutes later, we hear a car in the driveway. I run towards the front of the house to greet our visitor. A tall, lanky, Rasta is coming my way. I greet him with a big smile, a “Good Afternoon” and a firm USA handshake. I get the usual limp handshake of an islander (it’s an island thing).
Ashe has arrived!
I explain the problem and he goes under the house.
Ashe: (Knocks on the tank…laughs his ass off” It goin’ gaching…gaching…gaching…right?
Me: Yes?
Ashe: (Laughs again). Your tank is waterlogged.
Me: Oh? Can you fix that?
Ashe: No problem. I’ll be right back.
Ashe lopes off and I announce to the group that the tank is waterlogged. I’m met with 3 shrugs as they all return to iguana patrol.
Ashe comes back, toting a small DeWalt compressor…and a Red Stripe. Come on! How do you not love a place where your plumber comes to the house with an already-opened beer? Impossible I say!
Ashe plugs in the compressor and does something. I go to the house and gather beer for the group. The other 3 mobilize long enough to be handed an icy Carib.
Ashe comes out and starts chatting with us about his broken cell phone and the day he’s had. He gives us his life story. He’s an amazingly nice guy who runs his own business on the island and seems to enjoy life. Ashe is another reason I love the islands. I hand him a beer (because why the hell not?) and we discuss how he’s going to Burning Man. He also gives a guide to the hillside, pointing out all the homes he’s worked on and who lives in them. We learned that someone in line to the Coca Cola fortune lives right nearby. Bully for us!
Ashe fixed the tank and all was well. There was mild rejoicing in the pool. I was ordered to cook lunch.
I think after this, we all gathered our crap to go to town and then to go snorkel. It had been decided that we’d his Cinnamon Bay. Nothing too fancy, but a lovely beach. And, I got to drive the switchbacks from Trunk to Cinnamon…one of my favorite things to do.
Back in town, we quickly surmised that JJ’s was still closed. &$*@!
We drove down the road to Mongoose Junction to take in a little shopping. S needed to go to a jewelry store there to see if they had a certain gold earring she wanted. Plus, there’s a lot to do and see. It also irritates the hell out of T, so I always enjoy watching him hate shopping. Why? Because I’m an ass like that. T-shirts were bought and we headed to the beach.
Cinnamon is the first beach S and I ever went to on St John. It’s the beach that convinced us that we kinda liked the island a little bit. We got there and the usual wind was blowing. The water was a little rough too, so things were not shaping up that well. All 4 of us got in the water and we set off. I swam out ahead looking for fun things. I spotted a flock of squids and brought the group over. With the waves battering us, T and C headed back to shallower water. Me? I pressed on through the surf towards cinnamon Cay, the little island that sits in the bay. I got there and saw some fun stuff. A good assortment of fish and coral. I moved through a shallow section and noticed a drop off up ahead. I swam towards it and found myself eye to eye with a rather large tarpon. I more or less peed my pants at the sight of it. It was a big fish. We eyeballed each other and then swam off in our separate directions.
I swam back to the group and we headed back. We skipped town all together. I announced that I was not going on any additional conch fritter searched. If JJ’s wasn’t open, I wasn’t interested. Plus, it was steak night!
At the house, we started the showers. S went first and was finally able to take a complete shower. She emerged clean, smooth and happy. The rest of us cycled through as I got dinner ready.
T was salivating over the steaks before they even went on the grill. I plugged my MP3 player into the speaker that C had luckily brought. I say “luckily brought” because we’d kinda had high expectations for the house.
Allow me to quote from the website where I found the house:
<i>It’s wired - for sound and laptops. Multiple speakers in the living room and on the pool deck carry music to both decks. The 32” flat screen TV/DVD entertains in the living room, while the wireless DSL provides a good connection in the main house, the guest cottage and on both decks. So bring the laptops and iPods.</i>
This was actually a deciding factor for us. We waned to plug in and have music down at the pool. Well, after having no luck figuring out how to work the outdoor speakers, T had gone under the house where he found the speaker boxes…with loose wires dangling from them. AWESOME! This reminds me…we spent the first night trying to work the TV. The remote that said “Only use this to turn on the TV” did not work. We realized that you had to manually work the cable box form the floor. Really…we’d chosen a house with all the latest in technology.
In any event, the little speaker had my music on and I was limin’ on the deck as the steaks cooked. I had a rum drink and a sunset to watch. Life was good. I twirled S around on the deck to a few songs and we had a great time.
Dinner was ready and we’d decided to eat outside in the breeze. The steaks were presented with a flourish and the crowd went wild. We all agreed that these were among the best steaks we’d ever eaten.
We ate and then C disappeared inside to watch the Olympics. Cake followed along with much singing and rejoicing.
T and I spent the evening on the deck again, watching the stars. I would occasionally yell to S to go check for flights in and out of Tortola or St Thomas. We were able to watch the planes go back and forth overhead. For a geek like me, it was very cool.
It had turned out to be an interesting day. The water was fixed…albeit not quite how it should have been. But fixed is fixed. Our bellies were full and we were content. We had a big day planned for Wednesday and we all went to bed happy.
Monday August 11
Monday was to be out big day of activity. Naturally, C was sitting it out; preferring to stay at the house and sun herself into oblivion.
Today, were finally tackling one of the major things everyone must do on St John. We were off to see the petroglyphs. S and I had decided some time ago to get tattoos of them and realized that to not have seen them in person would make the whole experience of marking ourselves with a little St John a little cheap. I’d done my homework and figured we could handle a mostly-downhill 3.5 mile hike.
I woke up feeling less than good. I have not decided if it was the wine and rum combination from the night before or my sinuses (they were going in overdrive). In any event, I felt lousy.
We were told to be at the NPS offices at 9:10. Like good idiots, we got there at 9:00. We didn’t need to be there until closer to 9:30. It was hot in the offices…very hot. We sat for a while and watched the crowd for the hike gather. At 9:30, they herded us all off to 2 truck/taxis. Most of us paid the driver our $6. One asshat strutted around announcing for everyone “All I have is a $100 bill. It’s all I have. A $100 bill. See it?” He then told the driver to drop off a FedEx package for him in exchange for his $100 bill. If there’s a God, the driver still has the damn package in his cab.
We set off up Centerline Road towards the trail head. As we progressed, S and I kept catching snippets of a conversation from another family on the truck: “Magic tricks…house…Captain…” What? As we stopped at the top, I turned and asked them if they were staying at Peace O’Heaven. The looked at me funny…funnier than most people tend to do. I explained that we’d stayed there twice and it sounded like they were describing Capt Magic’s Magical Fanciful Dinner Fun Show. I asked how the house was looking and they described what seemed to be a long list of improvements. I explained “who” I was (from my online adventures) and the mother in the group had one of those “a-ha!” moments. Yet again, I was meeting a person who had read something I had written and had kinda listened to what I had to say. (My review of the house from 2006 said it needed improvements and, if made, the house would again be great).
We got to the trail, met our guide, Golda, and started out. The group of 20+ people scattered all over the trail. We hung towards the back, chatting up the guide and a family from St Luis who considered us to be blessed for being able to go to St John 3 times. OK.
The bottom line was this; as long as we kept walking, the trip was tolerable. As soon as you stopped, the bugs set in on you. I doused myself in bug spray but it did no good.
Every once and a while, Golda would stop for the group to rest and for us to learn a little something about the trees or the island. I learned what a Genip is. I decided that they’re fun to eat and quite tasty. Having a few actually settled my stomach and took the edge of my angry belly.
We hiked (mostly down hill thankfully) for a while.
(These are my notes that I typed out that night)
Saw the Petroglyphs – Spur trail .3 miles. Came across ahead of our group. I knew we were close. I crouched on the path and saw them. Through the trees and bush I saw the one site I’d wanted to see the most on St John. I crouched there and felt connected. This is the place for me. Made our way into the grove. I crouched on the water’s edge and ran my fingers along the carvings. Life is good in a good place. Hard to say how it felt and I can’t say how the others felt. For me, it was special.
(end notes)
It was very cool finally seeing the symbol of the island. As I wrote, I got out ahead of T and S and, when I could tell I was close, I crouched on the trail and could see the carvings on the rocks. It was a very exciting moment. As I’ve said and will continue to say, this was the trip where I really felt a connection to the island. Not being the most eloquent of people, it’s hard to describe how it felt to be there. I’ve read that the little waterfall where the carvings sit has spiritual energy and such. I don’t know what I felt (other than hot), but there was something.
The group made its way out and back towards the main trail. We could hear the ocean so we all knew we were close. Seeing how tired we all were, this was a good thing. At the bottom of the trail, there’s a big set of sugar mill ruins. They were fun to explore and to try to imagine how ungodly hot it must have been back in the day. There were huge boiling pots that must have heated the room to something like 130 degrees. I can’t imagine having a life that involved being trapped there, more or less, until you died.
There also were bats. I failed to tell S about them. S does not like bats. I had a good giggle watching her run out of one of the rooms making a “UUUUHHHHHH” sound.
At the end of the trail, you find yourself on Reef Bay. This is a big bay that’s completely inaccessible by car. You can walk down from the top (like we did), walk around the bay from where the road ends, or take a boat. Those are your options. It’s not exactly Myrtle Beach. We stopped for lunch (lovely grilled chicken and chilie-rice wraps that I packed) and a swim. Not one to miss a chance to snorkel a new bay, I hopped in.
The snorkeling blew. The water was shallow and there was a lot of grass. As a result, there were not many fish. And, the water was hot. Not one of those odd warm pockets you get in the ocean…but downright hot and utterly unrefreshing. Still, I swam on. According to T, a pelican nearly landed on my head at one point.
We were going to get picked up by a boat to go back to shore. Our options were to swim to it or take the dinghy.
S and I handed our pack to T, put our masks on and swam out to the boat. S wasn’t too keen on doing it because of the water temperatures, but I convinced her that life doesn’t afford us many opportunities to swim across a Caribbean bay to a waiting boat. We swam. Luckily, as the water got deeper, it also got cooler. We saw several really large conchs on the ocean floor. I dove down to take a look at one and realized that it had an inhabitant. I left it alone, lest I get attacked in some horrible way. Once we got to the boat, we learned that, if we wanted, we could jump off it into the water. Again, realizing that this doesn’t happen to us every day, we jumped. No matter your age, when you can jump off a boat into the ocean; (and the boat’s not sinking) do it. The fall was just enough for your brain to scream at you “You’re 34! Why the hell are you doing this?” The ride back was uneventful. The south shore of St John is very rocky (in contrast to the soft, sandy north shore) so it was fun to see the differences.
Back in town, I ran into a convenience store to treat my hike-mates. At Reef Bay, I had promised S a Ting, and I had to deliver. T had never had one and happily accepted any cold drink I was offering. Mmmmmmmm….Ting.
Back up the hill to the house we went. One by one, we collapsed into the pool. We were hot and tired, but I think all proud of ourselves and happy we’d made the trip.
I don’t know what happened next because overwhelming fatigue overtook me. I went to our room and took a nap. Apparently, T and S did the same down by the pool.
Once we all woke up, we headed to town. We were hoping somehow a miracle had occurred and JJ’s had opened. It had not. We found a little bar to sit at and I went out in search of Conch Fritters. I found myself at Woody’s.
I hate Woody’s.
Woody’s is a very popular restaurant and bar that’s right on the side of one of e roads in town. It’s small and attracts the cool crowd on island. It’s also a favorite spot for Kenny Chesney (or was when he could still visit the island un-molested). To me, it’s a crowded, loud spot filled with obnoxious drunks. I placed my order and tried my best to just sink into the background and not be noticed. The crow outside was the usual; dumb girls and guys in tank tops who strut around too much. Mixed in with them are people in their 40’s and 50’s who, in my opinion, should know better. Inside was no better. A bunch of people who either were loud and drunk or loud and acting like they were drunk.
There was a woman on a stool down the bar from me. She kept looking at me. I was praying that she didn’t somehow recognize me from one of the forums or something because I could see how hammered she was (and that she was old enough to know better).
Her: Hi
Me (oh crap): Hi
Her: Are you here alone?
Me (shiiiiiiiiiiiit): Yes. I’m waiting for an order to come up so I can go to another bar and eat.
Her: (Leaning waaaaaaaaaaaay too close to me) You look so sad.
Me: No…I’m Ok…
Her: I just want to be your friend. Do you need a friend?
Me: No…I’m all good thank you. Oh look! I think my order’s up.
I left in a hurry and found the group. They were drinking Corona. That meant there was no Carib. That also meant they’d be cranky. Like I cared. I more or less threw the food at them and told them they all owed me for what I had been through. They were less than caring about my experience.
The fritters sucked taint. Waste of my money and time if you ask me. I don’t like Woody’s. Why the hell was JJ’s closed!
Back to the house we went. It was shower time. We decided to not have S wait until the end in case the water died on her. C had remarked that during the day, while running a load of wash, the water had died, but she’d been able to restart it.
T took his shower. C took hers.
No problems.
S started her shower. With a keen ear, I happily heard the pump chugging along.
Then it stopped.
Crap.
Into our room I went. At least she wasn’t soapy this time. I jump-started the pump and she quickly finished. I don’t think I showered that night.
This was becoming a problem. The time between shut downs was decreasing and I was getting tired of crawling under the house to revive the pump.
Dinner was more leftovers. The original plan had been for S to make the potato salad and bake the cake for me on Sunday and that we’d celebrate the joyous day of my birth on Monday. After Sunday’s water aerobics, we decided to hold off until Wednesday. I didn’t want her to have to cook and bake after we’d done the hike (I’m nice like that).
We ate and then sat on the deck and enjoyed another blissfully breezy evening.
It had been a full day, and as far as we knew, we had a whole lot of nothing planned for Tuesday.
So we thought.
Monday was to be out big day of activity. Naturally, C was sitting it out; preferring to stay at the house and sun herself into oblivion.
Today, were finally tackling one of the major things everyone must do on St John. We were off to see the petroglyphs. S and I had decided some time ago to get tattoos of them and realized that to not have seen them in person would make the whole experience of marking ourselves with a little St John a little cheap. I’d done my homework and figured we could handle a mostly-downhill 3.5 mile hike.
I woke up feeling less than good. I have not decided if it was the wine and rum combination from the night before or my sinuses (they were going in overdrive). In any event, I felt lousy.
We were told to be at the NPS offices at 9:10. Like good idiots, we got there at 9:00. We didn’t need to be there until closer to 9:30. It was hot in the offices…very hot. We sat for a while and watched the crowd for the hike gather. At 9:30, they herded us all off to 2 truck/taxis. Most of us paid the driver our $6. One asshat strutted around announcing for everyone “All I have is a $100 bill. It’s all I have. A $100 bill. See it?” He then told the driver to drop off a FedEx package for him in exchange for his $100 bill. If there’s a God, the driver still has the damn package in his cab.
We set off up Centerline Road towards the trail head. As we progressed, S and I kept catching snippets of a conversation from another family on the truck: “Magic tricks…house…Captain…” What? As we stopped at the top, I turned and asked them if they were staying at Peace O’Heaven. The looked at me funny…funnier than most people tend to do. I explained that we’d stayed there twice and it sounded like they were describing Capt Magic’s Magical Fanciful Dinner Fun Show. I asked how the house was looking and they described what seemed to be a long list of improvements. I explained “who” I was (from my online adventures) and the mother in the group had one of those “a-ha!” moments. Yet again, I was meeting a person who had read something I had written and had kinda listened to what I had to say. (My review of the house from 2006 said it needed improvements and, if made, the house would again be great).
We got to the trail, met our guide, Golda, and started out. The group of 20+ people scattered all over the trail. We hung towards the back, chatting up the guide and a family from St Luis who considered us to be blessed for being able to go to St John 3 times. OK.
The bottom line was this; as long as we kept walking, the trip was tolerable. As soon as you stopped, the bugs set in on you. I doused myself in bug spray but it did no good.
Every once and a while, Golda would stop for the group to rest and for us to learn a little something about the trees or the island. I learned what a Genip is. I decided that they’re fun to eat and quite tasty. Having a few actually settled my stomach and took the edge of my angry belly.
We hiked (mostly down hill thankfully) for a while.
(These are my notes that I typed out that night)
Saw the Petroglyphs – Spur trail .3 miles. Came across ahead of our group. I knew we were close. I crouched on the path and saw them. Through the trees and bush I saw the one site I’d wanted to see the most on St John. I crouched there and felt connected. This is the place for me. Made our way into the grove. I crouched on the water’s edge and ran my fingers along the carvings. Life is good in a good place. Hard to say how it felt and I can’t say how the others felt. For me, it was special.
(end notes)
It was very cool finally seeing the symbol of the island. As I wrote, I got out ahead of T and S and, when I could tell I was close, I crouched on the trail and could see the carvings on the rocks. It was a very exciting moment. As I’ve said and will continue to say, this was the trip where I really felt a connection to the island. Not being the most eloquent of people, it’s hard to describe how it felt to be there. I’ve read that the little waterfall where the carvings sit has spiritual energy and such. I don’t know what I felt (other than hot), but there was something.
The group made its way out and back towards the main trail. We could hear the ocean so we all knew we were close. Seeing how tired we all were, this was a good thing. At the bottom of the trail, there’s a big set of sugar mill ruins. They were fun to explore and to try to imagine how ungodly hot it must have been back in the day. There were huge boiling pots that must have heated the room to something like 130 degrees. I can’t imagine having a life that involved being trapped there, more or less, until you died.
There also were bats. I failed to tell S about them. S does not like bats. I had a good giggle watching her run out of one of the rooms making a “UUUUHHHHHH” sound.
At the end of the trail, you find yourself on Reef Bay. This is a big bay that’s completely inaccessible by car. You can walk down from the top (like we did), walk around the bay from where the road ends, or take a boat. Those are your options. It’s not exactly Myrtle Beach. We stopped for lunch (lovely grilled chicken and chilie-rice wraps that I packed) and a swim. Not one to miss a chance to snorkel a new bay, I hopped in.
The snorkeling blew. The water was shallow and there was a lot of grass. As a result, there were not many fish. And, the water was hot. Not one of those odd warm pockets you get in the ocean…but downright hot and utterly unrefreshing. Still, I swam on. According to T, a pelican nearly landed on my head at one point.
We were going to get picked up by a boat to go back to shore. Our options were to swim to it or take the dinghy.
S and I handed our pack to T, put our masks on and swam out to the boat. S wasn’t too keen on doing it because of the water temperatures, but I convinced her that life doesn’t afford us many opportunities to swim across a Caribbean bay to a waiting boat. We swam. Luckily, as the water got deeper, it also got cooler. We saw several really large conchs on the ocean floor. I dove down to take a look at one and realized that it had an inhabitant. I left it alone, lest I get attacked in some horrible way. Once we got to the boat, we learned that, if we wanted, we could jump off it into the water. Again, realizing that this doesn’t happen to us every day, we jumped. No matter your age, when you can jump off a boat into the ocean; (and the boat’s not sinking) do it. The fall was just enough for your brain to scream at you “You’re 34! Why the hell are you doing this?” The ride back was uneventful. The south shore of St John is very rocky (in contrast to the soft, sandy north shore) so it was fun to see the differences.
Back in town, I ran into a convenience store to treat my hike-mates. At Reef Bay, I had promised S a Ting, and I had to deliver. T had never had one and happily accepted any cold drink I was offering. Mmmmmmmm….Ting.
Back up the hill to the house we went. One by one, we collapsed into the pool. We were hot and tired, but I think all proud of ourselves and happy we’d made the trip.
I don’t know what happened next because overwhelming fatigue overtook me. I went to our room and took a nap. Apparently, T and S did the same down by the pool.
Once we all woke up, we headed to town. We were hoping somehow a miracle had occurred and JJ’s had opened. It had not. We found a little bar to sit at and I went out in search of Conch Fritters. I found myself at Woody’s.
I hate Woody’s.
Woody’s is a very popular restaurant and bar that’s right on the side of one of e roads in town. It’s small and attracts the cool crowd on island. It’s also a favorite spot for Kenny Chesney (or was when he could still visit the island un-molested). To me, it’s a crowded, loud spot filled with obnoxious drunks. I placed my order and tried my best to just sink into the background and not be noticed. The crow outside was the usual; dumb girls and guys in tank tops who strut around too much. Mixed in with them are people in their 40’s and 50’s who, in my opinion, should know better. Inside was no better. A bunch of people who either were loud and drunk or loud and acting like they were drunk.
There was a woman on a stool down the bar from me. She kept looking at me. I was praying that she didn’t somehow recognize me from one of the forums or something because I could see how hammered she was (and that she was old enough to know better).
Her: Hi
Me (oh crap): Hi
Her: Are you here alone?
Me (shiiiiiiiiiiiit): Yes. I’m waiting for an order to come up so I can go to another bar and eat.
Her: (Leaning waaaaaaaaaaaay too close to me) You look so sad.
Me: No…I’m Ok…
Her: I just want to be your friend. Do you need a friend?
Me: No…I’m all good thank you. Oh look! I think my order’s up.
I left in a hurry and found the group. They were drinking Corona. That meant there was no Carib. That also meant they’d be cranky. Like I cared. I more or less threw the food at them and told them they all owed me for what I had been through. They were less than caring about my experience.
The fritters sucked taint. Waste of my money and time if you ask me. I don’t like Woody’s. Why the hell was JJ’s closed!
Back to the house we went. It was shower time. We decided to not have S wait until the end in case the water died on her. C had remarked that during the day, while running a load of wash, the water had died, but she’d been able to restart it.
T took his shower. C took hers.
No problems.
S started her shower. With a keen ear, I happily heard the pump chugging along.
Then it stopped.
Crap.
Into our room I went. At least she wasn’t soapy this time. I jump-started the pump and she quickly finished. I don’t think I showered that night.
This was becoming a problem. The time between shut downs was decreasing and I was getting tired of crawling under the house to revive the pump.
Dinner was more leftovers. The original plan had been for S to make the potato salad and bake the cake for me on Sunday and that we’d celebrate the joyous day of my birth on Monday. After Sunday’s water aerobics, we decided to hold off until Wednesday. I didn’t want her to have to cook and bake after we’d done the hike (I’m nice like that).
We ate and then sat on the deck and enjoyed another blissfully breezy evening.
It had been a full day, and as far as we knew, we had a whole lot of nothing planned for Tuesday.
So we thought.
Sunday August 10
Happy Birthday to me. I was lucky enough to celebrate a 2nd birthday on St. John.
The day started as a typical St John Sunday begins…for me at least. I had inspecting to do and lists to make. It was twilight or darker the night before (funny how that works) so I didn’t get a good look at the house and the surroundings. I must say that with the sun out, I was pleased. T was up already and had coffee made. Few things beat a morning cup of coffee while standing on your deck overlooking an island bay. You more or less have to be naked to experience anything better.
Once the ladies were up and about, T and I set off into town. I had chores to do. I had to get on the rental agreement at St John Car Rental, I had to stop in and see Ruth, we had to hit the NPS offices to argue over paperwork, and we had to go food shopping. Cooler-people that we are, we only needed about a gazillion dollars of staples.
What had we brought to eat? Thanks for asking:
Coffee, tea and breakfast breads for the morning
A giant pack of Nathan’s hot dogs. This would be our daily lunch at the house.
My birthday steaks – 4 gigantic ribeyes.
A huge pack of chicken breasts – good for Sunday dinner and then for slicing into sandwiches all week long
Pork Chops – really good ones from the local pig store.
And…a whole bunch of other things.
Off to town we bounced. For all that changes in Cruz Bay, there are constants…the narrow streets, the local “flavor”, the general dinginess of it. This ain’t St Bart’s, folks. This is a little more hardscrabble and “lived in”.
I bought some stuff from Ron (Ruth was pecking away at the computer upstairs and I didn’t want to bother her). JJ’s was still closed and rumors were circulating (I wonder how) about when it would re-open.
We walked to the NPS offices and got our paperwork settled for the next day’s hike. We got to the jeep and drove to the store to shop. Remembering the breezes from the night before, T and I decided to pick up some wine. True Wineauxs that we are, we found a big bottle of Gallo Merlot. This was not to be fine-drinking. This was to be power drinking.
That all done, I was now ready to sit. I had a dip in the pool and took in the scene. What followed would be played out time and time again all week.
Me: I think I see an iguana in the tree. (Off the edge of the pool, there’s a huge flamboyant tree (link to video). Since they’re in bloom right now, it was an explosion of red flowers.)
C: (swims over) Where?
Me: (Points) There.
S: (also swims over): What?
Me: There!
C: I see it. On the branch by the edge.
Me: No…on the branch in the middle. Crap! There are 2!
S: I see one too. That makes 3!
Our tree seemed to have a family living in it. By week’s end, we had identified 6 of them. They were all different sizes and colors. It was quite fun to watch them sun themselves and eat all the flowers off the tree.
Lunch soon followed. In our typical stately fashion, we ate standing at the kitchen counter. 8 hot dogs vanished in about 16 bites. S and I noticed that if you put Sunny Caribee’s Pirate’s Gold hot sauce AND Tabasco sauce on a hot dog, it’s like an orgasm. Something you all should know. (Sunny Caribee hot sauce is available from St John Spice)
I opened my gifts: 2 shirts from The Kid and 3 books from S. T and C got me a shirt from Low Key with a map of St John on it. Very nice. I tucked right into one of the books, A Trip to the Beach. It’s one of our vacation favorites.
S checked the computer and saw that we had an invitation for drinks. Ruth was going to be at the Beach Bar at 5 and wanted us to come down to toast my birthday. (Squeeeeeeee)
So, having eaten, we mounted up in the jeep to go snorkeling. We drove out the North Shore to Trunk Bay. We wanted to start the week with something familiar and easy and Trunk always fits that description. The only problem is that we arrived “early” and had to pay to get in. No worries…I have no problem supporting the National Park Service on St John. It was only once we hit the beach that T realized he’d forgotten his life vest. No snorkeling for him…
S, C and I set out to see the underwater trail. It was the usual maelstrom of floundering, screaming people, but if you look hard enough, you can find something special. Like a Caribbean Reef Octopus! I found one and guided the ladies over to take a look. S and I stayed in the water for over an hour and returned to shore in time for our engagement.
Arriving at the beach Bar, I found Ruth. Considering that we’d never really “met”, I didn’t know how to greet her. Well, the huge hug and “Happy Birthday!” settled that. I met some other on-line people and we talked about what everyone talks about when you meet on-line friends; other on-line people. It was a good time. I had 2 birthday Red Stripes and we watched the happenings at the bar.
Suddenly, S and T were excitedly pointing at the stage. Could it be? Holy Crap! It was! RuthEllen was on stage! Holy Crap! So was Capt Magic! He was not only alive, but up and about! As no one here recalls, they own the house we’d rented twice before. They sang something and we gathered up to go back to the house. Not being able to resist a chance to talk to someone, I wandered over to see them.
I babbled something about who I was and how happy we were to see them up and about
RuthEllen: Where are you staying (looking at me accusingly)?
Me: We decided to splurge and are in Great Cruz Bay. (A white lie at best)
RE: What was your last name again?
Me: Daddy?
RE: YOU! I REMEMBER YOU! YOU SAID THE HOSUE LOOKED SHABBY!
Me: (Sheepish face)
RE: I READ THAT! KNOW WHAT I DID? I FIXED EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE! THAT’S WHAT I DID!
Me: (Realizing that people do read what I write). That’s great. I’d love to run up and see how it looks.
I bade them farewell and we headed home.
We got to the house and we all started showering. I finished mine and started grilling.
Have I mentioned the pump yet? Didn’t think so.
The night before, I was at the sink and noticed that when I turned on the water, a pump kicked on under my feet. It would run for a second and then rest for 5 or so. I just assumed this was normal and told everyone not to be alarmed.
Back to Sunday.
S was in the shower and I was at the sink washing my hands. I turned on the tap. Nothing. Oh crap. How was I going to wash my hands?
OH CRAP! S IS IN THE SHOWER!
I ran into our room and opened the bathroom door. There stood my lovely wife. Tanned in all the right spots and naked as the day she was born. Oh…she was also covered in soap.
Me: So…no water, eh?
S: What the &$*@ do you think?
Me: OK…grab a towel and run for the pool.
Dainty to the end, she put on her bikini and rinsed in the pool. Meanwhile, I had chicken on the grill. I found a note in the house with a phone number to call.
No answer.
I called the woman who had been our greeter the day before. I was told to call back later.
Still no water.
I called back and the greeter told me she had to “call The Lady”.
The Lady called and I explained the problem.
Mind you…it’s now dark out. I also know that the pump is more or less under the house by the laundry machines.
The Lady: Grab a light and go under the house. (This is all being relayed to me on a scratchy cordless phone from a woman with a good Island Accent.) See da pump?
Me: I see it. It’s hot.
TL: See da green ting?
Me: (hand over phone) T! Get down here! OK? I think so.
TL: Der be a little metal on it. Wiggle it.
Me: What?
TL: Da little metal. You gotta wiggle it.
Me: (Climbs into the dirt behind the pump. I see no “metal ting”. I do see an air release valve on the tank). The valve?
TL: No Da otter ting.
Me: (Spotting a little metal lever) Oh…I see it. OK.
I wiggle the lever and a huge blue spark/flame shoots from the little green box I have my hands on. The pump fires once and dies.
TL: Dats it. Yo got it!
Me: (Wiggles again and hears it catch). I guess so. Is this normal?
TL: Good night.
So…we had water. We ate dinner and enjoyed a new story from the island.
T and I opened our wine and tried to play “Which star is that”. Mostly, we just drank too much.
Thank God the A/C still worked.
Happy Birthday to me. I was lucky enough to celebrate a 2nd birthday on St. John.
The day started as a typical St John Sunday begins…for me at least. I had inspecting to do and lists to make. It was twilight or darker the night before (funny how that works) so I didn’t get a good look at the house and the surroundings. I must say that with the sun out, I was pleased. T was up already and had coffee made. Few things beat a morning cup of coffee while standing on your deck overlooking an island bay. You more or less have to be naked to experience anything better.
Once the ladies were up and about, T and I set off into town. I had chores to do. I had to get on the rental agreement at St John Car Rental, I had to stop in and see Ruth, we had to hit the NPS offices to argue over paperwork, and we had to go food shopping. Cooler-people that we are, we only needed about a gazillion dollars of staples.
What had we brought to eat? Thanks for asking:
Coffee, tea and breakfast breads for the morning
A giant pack of Nathan’s hot dogs. This would be our daily lunch at the house.
My birthday steaks – 4 gigantic ribeyes.
A huge pack of chicken breasts – good for Sunday dinner and then for slicing into sandwiches all week long
Pork Chops – really good ones from the local pig store.
And…a whole bunch of other things.
Off to town we bounced. For all that changes in Cruz Bay, there are constants…the narrow streets, the local “flavor”, the general dinginess of it. This ain’t St Bart’s, folks. This is a little more hardscrabble and “lived in”.
I bought some stuff from Ron (Ruth was pecking away at the computer upstairs and I didn’t want to bother her). JJ’s was still closed and rumors were circulating (I wonder how) about when it would re-open.
We walked to the NPS offices and got our paperwork settled for the next day’s hike. We got to the jeep and drove to the store to shop. Remembering the breezes from the night before, T and I decided to pick up some wine. True Wineauxs that we are, we found a big bottle of Gallo Merlot. This was not to be fine-drinking. This was to be power drinking.
That all done, I was now ready to sit. I had a dip in the pool and took in the scene. What followed would be played out time and time again all week.
Me: I think I see an iguana in the tree. (Off the edge of the pool, there’s a huge flamboyant tree (link to video). Since they’re in bloom right now, it was an explosion of red flowers.)
C: (swims over) Where?
Me: (Points) There.
S: (also swims over): What?
Me: There!
C: I see it. On the branch by the edge.
Me: No…on the branch in the middle. Crap! There are 2!
S: I see one too. That makes 3!
Our tree seemed to have a family living in it. By week’s end, we had identified 6 of them. They were all different sizes and colors. It was quite fun to watch them sun themselves and eat all the flowers off the tree.
Lunch soon followed. In our typical stately fashion, we ate standing at the kitchen counter. 8 hot dogs vanished in about 16 bites. S and I noticed that if you put Sunny Caribee’s Pirate’s Gold hot sauce AND Tabasco sauce on a hot dog, it’s like an orgasm. Something you all should know. (Sunny Caribee hot sauce is available from St John Spice)
I opened my gifts: 2 shirts from The Kid and 3 books from S. T and C got me a shirt from Low Key with a map of St John on it. Very nice. I tucked right into one of the books, A Trip to the Beach. It’s one of our vacation favorites.
S checked the computer and saw that we had an invitation for drinks. Ruth was going to be at the Beach Bar at 5 and wanted us to come down to toast my birthday. (Squeeeeeeee)
So, having eaten, we mounted up in the jeep to go snorkeling. We drove out the North Shore to Trunk Bay. We wanted to start the week with something familiar and easy and Trunk always fits that description. The only problem is that we arrived “early” and had to pay to get in. No worries…I have no problem supporting the National Park Service on St John. It was only once we hit the beach that T realized he’d forgotten his life vest. No snorkeling for him…
S, C and I set out to see the underwater trail. It was the usual maelstrom of floundering, screaming people, but if you look hard enough, you can find something special. Like a Caribbean Reef Octopus! I found one and guided the ladies over to take a look. S and I stayed in the water for over an hour and returned to shore in time for our engagement.
Arriving at the beach Bar, I found Ruth. Considering that we’d never really “met”, I didn’t know how to greet her. Well, the huge hug and “Happy Birthday!” settled that. I met some other on-line people and we talked about what everyone talks about when you meet on-line friends; other on-line people. It was a good time. I had 2 birthday Red Stripes and we watched the happenings at the bar.
Suddenly, S and T were excitedly pointing at the stage. Could it be? Holy Crap! It was! RuthEllen was on stage! Holy Crap! So was Capt Magic! He was not only alive, but up and about! As no one here recalls, they own the house we’d rented twice before. They sang something and we gathered up to go back to the house. Not being able to resist a chance to talk to someone, I wandered over to see them.
I babbled something about who I was and how happy we were to see them up and about
RuthEllen: Where are you staying (looking at me accusingly)?
Me: We decided to splurge and are in Great Cruz Bay. (A white lie at best)
RE: What was your last name again?
Me: Daddy?
RE: YOU! I REMEMBER YOU! YOU SAID THE HOSUE LOOKED SHABBY!
Me: (Sheepish face)
RE: I READ THAT! KNOW WHAT I DID? I FIXED EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE! THAT’S WHAT I DID!
Me: (Realizing that people do read what I write). That’s great. I’d love to run up and see how it looks.
I bade them farewell and we headed home.
We got to the house and we all started showering. I finished mine and started grilling.
Have I mentioned the pump yet? Didn’t think so.
The night before, I was at the sink and noticed that when I turned on the water, a pump kicked on under my feet. It would run for a second and then rest for 5 or so. I just assumed this was normal and told everyone not to be alarmed.
Back to Sunday.
S was in the shower and I was at the sink washing my hands. I turned on the tap. Nothing. Oh crap. How was I going to wash my hands?
OH CRAP! S IS IN THE SHOWER!
I ran into our room and opened the bathroom door. There stood my lovely wife. Tanned in all the right spots and naked as the day she was born. Oh…she was also covered in soap.
Me: So…no water, eh?
S: What the &$*@ do you think?
Me: OK…grab a towel and run for the pool.
Dainty to the end, she put on her bikini and rinsed in the pool. Meanwhile, I had chicken on the grill. I found a note in the house with a phone number to call.
No answer.
I called the woman who had been our greeter the day before. I was told to call back later.
Still no water.
I called back and the greeter told me she had to “call The Lady”.
The Lady called and I explained the problem.
Mind you…it’s now dark out. I also know that the pump is more or less under the house by the laundry machines.
The Lady: Grab a light and go under the house. (This is all being relayed to me on a scratchy cordless phone from a woman with a good Island Accent.) See da pump?
Me: I see it. It’s hot.
TL: See da green ting?
Me: (hand over phone) T! Get down here! OK? I think so.
TL: Der be a little metal on it. Wiggle it.
Me: What?
TL: Da little metal. You gotta wiggle it.
Me: (Climbs into the dirt behind the pump. I see no “metal ting”. I do see an air release valve on the tank). The valve?
TL: No Da otter ting.
Me: (Spotting a little metal lever) Oh…I see it. OK.
I wiggle the lever and a huge blue spark/flame shoots from the little green box I have my hands on. The pump fires once and dies.
TL: Dats it. Yo got it!
Me: (Wiggles again and hears it catch). I guess so. Is this normal?
TL: Good night.
So…we had water. We ate dinner and enjoyed a new story from the island.
T and I opened our wine and tried to play “Which star is that”. Mostly, we just drank too much.
Thank God the A/C still worked.
Saturday August 9, 2008:
Learn your lesson now and repeat after me: First Class, baby.
It will be a theme.
PS: I am writing from the plane. We’re on initial approach.
Woke up at 5:00AM. We had a 7:15 flight and I had work to do. Splitting up into the 2 upstairs bathrooms, S and I got ready. I had to shower and get downstairs to pack the cooler. On Friday, I had packed it and stood on a scale to see how heavy it was. 41lbs. It was hefty. I also learned, that on our scale at least, I weighed less that I expected. Bully for me.
At 5:45, we headed out. We were at RDU and in one of my assigned parking spots 20 minutes later. I have about 5 spots on the 3rd level of the parking deck where I always park. If I can’t get a spot in one of them, I get angry.
We walked into the terminal and faced a mob scene. USAir and Delta were jammed up the ass. The Delta lines were horrid. We didn’t have to wait on them. Wanna know why? (see above dickweeds). We checked in and went through security with no hassle. Although, I have now decided that seasoned travelers not only need our own lines, we need our own airport. I hate you noobs. You all suck with your laced up boots and bangle bracelets. Just do me a favor and die a slow death (outside of the TSA zone mind you).
We got upstairs and got to the gate. When they called for group 1, it was our turn. Boarding the 757, we made a left turn. Only the truly awesome turn left. You all turn right. S was in awe. There are only 2 seats up here on each side of the aisle and you have enough room to cross your legs. We were offered drinks, coffee for me and tea for the lady and we took off.
Snacks were served and we had juice…in real glasses. Wanna know why? You all know.
We arrived in ATL on time and called back to NC to check in with the kid. She was with my parents. We have promised her that the next time we go to St. John she can come. Until then, we’ll enjoy our freedom. We crossed from Concourse E to A and kept up our glamorous life.
My mother had recently received 2 free passes to Continental’s President’s Club. Since they code share with Delta, I knew we could use them. And use them we did. We crossed through the doors and into the Crown Club. I handed in our passes and we had access to go up the stairs into AwesomeLand. In front of us was an assortment of comfy chairs and little tables. No noise, no crying babies, no smelly fat people
I picked up some yogurt and muffins. Then, I went to the bar for screwdrivers. Yes, it was only 9:00, but when you’re glamorous, you drink. And it was free! We sat in the peacefulness and enjoyed out layover. I even pooped! In the bathroom…not in my pants or on the floor. Thinking back, either would have been OK. It’s allowed when you’re glamorous. All that was missing was a hooker or 3 to service me.
I got up to go peepees and noticed that we were boarding. We went downstairs and walked right past the poor folk and right onto the plane. Why? You know.
We sat down and were promptly offered champagne. Hell yea we were. We had to wait a bit to take off, but S was too busy giggling while I made comments about how nice it was to see her rising above her humble upbringings.
We finally took off and were served lunch. Chicken breast, mushroom ravioli, a side salad, bread and chocolate cake. The &$*@ers in the back got crackers. Serves them right. We also were offered drinks. We chose white wine. Over the next 2 hours, our glasses never dipped below the ½ way point. S giggled and I was just happy to be here. Stress was melting off of us. Or…we were getting drunk. Who knows?
OK…there’s a rainbow out the window and we’re getting close to the coast of Puerto Rico. Time to go for now.
(Back to NC for this part).
We landed in STT and got the bags with minimal hassle. I picked up a Carib at the bar and we toasted vacation for the 47th time. We got the bags and actually had a pleasant ride to Red Hook. Upon arriving, I remembered that there was a new ferry terminal. No more standing in the heat and dust. The ferry left a little after 4:00 and we were St John-bound. We docked and could see T and C waiting for us on the dock. It was cool to see them waiting for us right there…we were back.
T and I dragged the bags down the road to the Jeep while the ladies went to JJ’s to get started. We drove to the house and I did a quick unpack of the cooler.
Um…why isn’t the freezer opening?
Never mind…we wanted to get back to town.
T’s phone dinged with a text: JJ’s closed. At the Beach Bar.
Um? What?
OK…we went back to town, met the ladies and had a drink. We finished up and all went back to the house. Up and down the hills we went. We all remembered our favorite on-island muscle: the ATS muscle.
Never heard of it? It’s the Ankle-To-Sphincter muscle. The driver uses it the most, but the other 3 in the car also give it a workout. When you see a dump truck careening down a hill…on a 1-1/2 lane road, you fire the muscle immediately. For the driver, it’s the switch from gas to brake that fires it. For the rest, it’s the imaginary brake pedal that we’re pumping. The muscle instantly closes your butt. Without it, you’d crap your pants a lot while driving on the island.
We ran to the market to get supplies like beer and rum and then headed to the house.
At the house, we all unpacked and changed to bathing suits.
The freezer still would not open. This was good, especially when you looked at the 5lb sack of ice that was melting on the kitchen counter. We called our on-island person. She was of no help, but she did offer to call someone else. The other person called and her suggestion was that we turn off the fridge. When we tried to explain that this would cause all of our food to spoil, she bid us a good night. OK. That was fun. So, I yanked the ever-living crap out of the freezer door. Ta Da! It opened. It seemed to be frozen shut and off its tracks. At least we had a place to store the ice and some of the food we didn’t need thawed just yet.
We went out to the pool and had a quick swim. Since we were finally experiencing a breeze on the island we all quickly got cold. Cold? What was that? We’d never been anything but sweaty and cranky at the house before. This was nice.
I made the traditional Saturday dinner of cheese, cold cuts and crackers and we watched some Olympics before heading to bed early. We got to our room and noticed that the A/C actually worked. Oh to be comfortable!
Learn your lesson now and repeat after me: First Class, baby.
It will be a theme.
PS: I am writing from the plane. We’re on initial approach.
Woke up at 5:00AM. We had a 7:15 flight and I had work to do. Splitting up into the 2 upstairs bathrooms, S and I got ready. I had to shower and get downstairs to pack the cooler. On Friday, I had packed it and stood on a scale to see how heavy it was. 41lbs. It was hefty. I also learned, that on our scale at least, I weighed less that I expected. Bully for me.
At 5:45, we headed out. We were at RDU and in one of my assigned parking spots 20 minutes later. I have about 5 spots on the 3rd level of the parking deck where I always park. If I can’t get a spot in one of them, I get angry.
We walked into the terminal and faced a mob scene. USAir and Delta were jammed up the ass. The Delta lines were horrid. We didn’t have to wait on them. Wanna know why? (see above dickweeds). We checked in and went through security with no hassle. Although, I have now decided that seasoned travelers not only need our own lines, we need our own airport. I hate you noobs. You all suck with your laced up boots and bangle bracelets. Just do me a favor and die a slow death (outside of the TSA zone mind you).
We got upstairs and got to the gate. When they called for group 1, it was our turn. Boarding the 757, we made a left turn. Only the truly awesome turn left. You all turn right. S was in awe. There are only 2 seats up here on each side of the aisle and you have enough room to cross your legs. We were offered drinks, coffee for me and tea for the lady and we took off.
Snacks were served and we had juice…in real glasses. Wanna know why? You all know.
We arrived in ATL on time and called back to NC to check in with the kid. She was with my parents. We have promised her that the next time we go to St. John she can come. Until then, we’ll enjoy our freedom. We crossed from Concourse E to A and kept up our glamorous life.
My mother had recently received 2 free passes to Continental’s President’s Club. Since they code share with Delta, I knew we could use them. And use them we did. We crossed through the doors and into the Crown Club. I handed in our passes and we had access to go up the stairs into AwesomeLand. In front of us was an assortment of comfy chairs and little tables. No noise, no crying babies, no smelly fat people
I picked up some yogurt and muffins. Then, I went to the bar for screwdrivers. Yes, it was only 9:00, but when you’re glamorous, you drink. And it was free! We sat in the peacefulness and enjoyed out layover. I even pooped! In the bathroom…not in my pants or on the floor. Thinking back, either would have been OK. It’s allowed when you’re glamorous. All that was missing was a hooker or 3 to service me.
I got up to go peepees and noticed that we were boarding. We went downstairs and walked right past the poor folk and right onto the plane. Why? You know.
We sat down and were promptly offered champagne. Hell yea we were. We had to wait a bit to take off, but S was too busy giggling while I made comments about how nice it was to see her rising above her humble upbringings.
We finally took off and were served lunch. Chicken breast, mushroom ravioli, a side salad, bread and chocolate cake. The &$*@ers in the back got crackers. Serves them right. We also were offered drinks. We chose white wine. Over the next 2 hours, our glasses never dipped below the ½ way point. S giggled and I was just happy to be here. Stress was melting off of us. Or…we were getting drunk. Who knows?
OK…there’s a rainbow out the window and we’re getting close to the coast of Puerto Rico. Time to go for now.
(Back to NC for this part).
We landed in STT and got the bags with minimal hassle. I picked up a Carib at the bar and we toasted vacation for the 47th time. We got the bags and actually had a pleasant ride to Red Hook. Upon arriving, I remembered that there was a new ferry terminal. No more standing in the heat and dust. The ferry left a little after 4:00 and we were St John-bound. We docked and could see T and C waiting for us on the dock. It was cool to see them waiting for us right there…we were back.
T and I dragged the bags down the road to the Jeep while the ladies went to JJ’s to get started. We drove to the house and I did a quick unpack of the cooler.
Um…why isn’t the freezer opening?
Never mind…we wanted to get back to town.
T’s phone dinged with a text: JJ’s closed. At the Beach Bar.
Um? What?
OK…we went back to town, met the ladies and had a drink. We finished up and all went back to the house. Up and down the hills we went. We all remembered our favorite on-island muscle: the ATS muscle.
Never heard of it? It’s the Ankle-To-Sphincter muscle. The driver uses it the most, but the other 3 in the car also give it a workout. When you see a dump truck careening down a hill…on a 1-1/2 lane road, you fire the muscle immediately. For the driver, it’s the switch from gas to brake that fires it. For the rest, it’s the imaginary brake pedal that we’re pumping. The muscle instantly closes your butt. Without it, you’d crap your pants a lot while driving on the island.
We ran to the market to get supplies like beer and rum and then headed to the house.
At the house, we all unpacked and changed to bathing suits.
The freezer still would not open. This was good, especially when you looked at the 5lb sack of ice that was melting on the kitchen counter. We called our on-island person. She was of no help, but she did offer to call someone else. The other person called and her suggestion was that we turn off the fridge. When we tried to explain that this would cause all of our food to spoil, she bid us a good night. OK. That was fun. So, I yanked the ever-living crap out of the freezer door. Ta Da! It opened. It seemed to be frozen shut and off its tracks. At least we had a place to store the ice and some of the food we didn’t need thawed just yet.
We went out to the pool and had a quick swim. Since we were finally experiencing a breeze on the island we all quickly got cold. Cold? What was that? We’d never been anything but sweaty and cranky at the house before. This was nice.
I made the traditional Saturday dinner of cheese, cold cuts and crackers and we watched some Olympics before heading to bed early. We got to our room and noticed that the A/C actually worked. Oh to be comfortable!
Last edited by pipanale on Tue Sep 02, 2008 4:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Overall impressions:
What you’re about to read is likely to come across as very “complain-y”. Some may just call me a whiner, others may get it. Trust me, we love St. John and will be back. Silly as it will sound, we may even go back to the same house again.
It’s hard to explain the week and have you understand it if you haven’t experienced the islands and all their silliness. When people say “I want to move there”, they need a week like ours.
But…I met some great friends in person for the first time. I felt truly connected to the island like I never have. I saw an octopus. I dove through an underwater arch. I ate a great steak. I shared a week in paradise with the person I love most in the whole world.
I danced.
I laughed.
I was over served.
I had a great time.
What you’re about to read is likely to come across as very “complain-y”. Some may just call me a whiner, others may get it. Trust me, we love St. John and will be back. Silly as it will sound, we may even go back to the same house again.
It’s hard to explain the week and have you understand it if you haven’t experienced the islands and all their silliness. When people say “I want to move there”, they need a week like ours.
But…I met some great friends in person for the first time. I felt truly connected to the island like I never have. I saw an octopus. I dove through an underwater arch. I ate a great steak. I shared a week in paradise with the person I love most in the whole world.
I danced.
I laughed.
I was over served.
I had a great time.
