Picaroon Blog

IT’S been ages since we updated the blog, and we don’t even have the excuse of not having access to Teh Interwebs. No, instead, we’ve just been having too much fun. Becca leaves on Tuesday so we’re squeezing in as much last-minute playing as we can – a task that’s now been made even easier by the presence of our dear friend Val, whose adventurous spirit and sense of delight in all things has made the time even sweeter.

A couple of days ago, we met a delightful couple, Steve and JennyLynn of Antigone here in Great Cruz Bay, and they dropped by our boat for sundowners that evening with JennyLynn’s son, Sam. Sam invited us to join him and a friend on the beach at Cinnamon Bay the next day for his friend’s daughter’s birthday party, for which they planned to build a massive Slip-N-Slide on the beach. So we motored around to Cinnamon Bay the next day, once again foregoing sailing in the face of thirty knots on the nose for a short 5-mile run. We swam to shore from the mooring via the reef; the reef here was relatively unimpressive but it’s always a ball to snorkel. Once we finally found Sam and friend on the beach, we discovered that the 30-knot winds and his daughter’s lack of interest in the Slip-N-Slide had put the kibosh on their plans, but the arrival of a bunch of hearty sailors meant that we had the channel dug in the sand and 3 Slip-N-Slides in place in no time. Voila! A 50-foot Slip-N-Slide into the ocean – just think of the sand burn on your front as extra exfoliation, boys and girls! And boys and girls we were – we all hurled ourselves headlong onto the thin plastic, laughing hysterically as we ricocheted down the dug channel to a final faceplant into the sand at the end. It was perfect.

Today was another perfect day. Val had read that the best Caribbean food on the island was to be found at a place called Vie’s Snack Shack, way out on the East End, 11 long miles from Cruz Bay along treacherously steep, switch-backed mountain roads. We grabbed a local bus from Cruz Bay for only $1 and wound our way along to Coral Bay, gasping at the sheer beauty of the vistas and in terror at the sheer drop-offs below the switchbacks. At least the bus was set up correctly, e.g., the driver was on the correct side. Here, just to f**k with you, people drive on the left-hand side in right-hand side cars, meaning that at any given time, a half drunk tourist in a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited may be careening along on the wrong side of the road, his shoulder to the shoulder, unable to see a thing around corners, ready to smash headfirst into your bus, which of course doesn’t have seat belts, as it barrels along the side of the cliff at breakneck speeds.

Vie’s is a good several miles from Coral Bay, and those are fairly VERTICAL miles, but it’s no big deal to get out there: just hitchhike. OK, OK, before all of the various parents who read this blog gasp in horror, let me just ‘splain: everyone hitchhikes here. No, not like, everyone else’s parents let them stay out ‘til midnight, so why can’t I. Nope, it’s more along the lines of, this island is so damn safe and small (4,000 people) that hitchhiking is a common and accepted SAFE way to get around. It’s delightful, actually. I love the fact that people hitchhike here. It’s a big point in favour of the island, to be honest. Really, when did you last feel safe enough to bum a ride from a complete stranger?

To think, there’s a whole culture of trusting your neighbour here, a rather archaic and beautiful custom I think we should reclaim. Just think what your neighbourhood would be like if you could hitchhike without fear? Can you imagine? It’s fantastic. And with all the walking we do while waiting to be picked up on pretty deserted roads, my ass is getting quite a workout. Soon, I’ll have the butt of a 20-year-old. Seriously, I’m in better shape than I’ve been in years, with an hour a day walking up and down near-vertical hills.

Anyhoo, back to the adventure… we hitchhiked out to Vie’s, in two groups, of course, as it’s impossible to get a lift for four, but we did make it, and thank God we did!

While we had heard from some locals that Vie’s wasn’t that special, we beg to differ. This tiny shack had undoubtedly the best conch fritters I’ve ever had, perfectly light and tender while sufficiently spicy and crispy. The garlic chicken, a fried chicken thigh and leg that had some sort of magic-garlic-mojo in the crispy crust, was tender, juicy and very flavourful (because it comes from the chickens running around the dining area, perhaps?). The Johnny cakes were fantastic – very slightly sweet fried dough drizzled with honey, like a barely-sweet glazed donut. The portions are beyond generous: we split three plates among the four of us and I’m still full at six PM. The best part? Val treated us to lunch, which was lovely and generous.

We followed up our coma-inducing lunch by collapsing on the beach next to Vie’s – she charges $2.50 to access the beach. Apparently, there’s great snorkelling there, but we were idiots and forgot the gear, so we just contented ourselves with flapping around in the water, groaning from too much food, and lounging in the sun. We did see a couple of awesome starfish, bright red and yellow and at least 10 inches across, as well as some amazing sea urchins in the tide pools with bright red centres surrounded by long black spikes.

Tomorrow we’re off to Reef Bay, which is supposed to be the best snorkelling on the island. Val’s a big fan of snorkelling, and has done a ton of it in Cayman, so I really want to show her how fantastic the national park is here, with its absolutely clear water, huge numbers of turtles and eagle rays, and just unparalleled coral.

Oh, and by the way: Philip set up this computer (which is our navigation computer that I’m using while my Mac is still dead) with the standard language as British English, so Microsoft Word has been automatically correcting my harbor to harbour, etc, etc. I’m not being poncy. I’m just too lazy to change it back.

AFTER a week working and snorkeling in Christmas Cove, we desperately needed to replenish our supply of fresh food, so Friday we headed over to Charlotte Amalie, the capital of the U.S. Virgin Islands. Charlotte Amalie (which, according to the interwebs and my guidebook is pronounced a-MAHL-yeh, though I have yet to hear a local pronounce it at all) is the largest town we’ve been to thus far. It feels oddly American, with K-mart and Foot Locker and McDonalds and Wendys . . . an odd sensation.

We spent the two days here tracking down letters at the post office, provisioning and getting internet access, but finally made it over to the old town yesterday afternoon for a walk around. As we approached the waterfront, the unmistakable sounds of a marching band were floating across the water, and we speculated that there was some sort of football game somewhere. To our delight, we got off the dinghy smack in the middle of a parade, on it’s way to a motorcycle rally. The parade was great. The walking tour was delightful. The raucous music and motorcycles revving until 5:30 AM — not so much.

Clearly, a local high school marching band, here in front of Fort Christian, the oldest structure on the island. The entire parade consisted of two high school bands, a bunch of motorcycles and a handful of classic cars.

I asked the police officer and a random passer-by watching the parade what it was for; neither had any idea. The passer-by joked, "In the Virgin Islands, we don't need a reason for a parade!" It was actually for a motorcycle rally in a parking lot, which seems an odd occasion for a parade, but there you go.

Note that the license plate is "G-Money." Hysterical.

The band works it!

Fort Christian. Our guidebook said there was a museum in here, but it looked totally abandoned.

There was a revival going full steam in the gazebo in Emancipation Park, with fabulous music and an incomprehensible preacher. I love the sign advertising the State of the Union watch party.