Patron Saint of the Caribbean
A Kittitian Odyssey by Marvel Dee Cee
Intro and Day 1
Christopher Columbus originally named St Kitts as St
Christopher, when he arrived on the island in 1493. As the patron saint of
travellers, it is the perfect name for this most beautiful of islands. It was
later shortened to St Kitts by English settlers, some 130 years later. The
Caribbean, as a whole, does not have a patron saint so, due my experience of
the beauty of the island, with the friendliness and warmth of its people, I
believe St Kitts has a good case for that title.
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| Beauty of the island |
On this journey I choose to fly from Gatwick rather than Manchester to keep flight costs down and also limit to a single flight rather than changing. I would still have to drive, at least, 2 hrs to Manchester and still pay for parking. So, it seems no great hardship to drive an extra 3hrs to offset the flying aspect. Also, the initial flight from Manchester was very early in the morning and I just didn’t want to be setting off on this long journey in the middle of the night. The Gatwick flight is at 09:30 so I decide to fork out for a Travelodge and travel down the day before. This allows me time to detour via Essex to catch up with a mate that I haven’t seen for a number of years. Overall, I suppose I don’t save that much money, but the journey is certainly less stressful.
Including an hour on the tarmac in Antigua for a number of
travellers to disembark, the overall flight time is just shy of 10 hours. I
land in St Kitts, 16:20 local time, at the Robert L Bradshaw International
Airport, just over 9 years later than originally planned; I’ll expand on that
part of the tale shortly. The airport has a rather grand name for what is,
essentially, one runway and one terminal building. It does receive flights from
US, Canada and UK so, I suppose, it has a right to call itself 'international'.
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| Terminal building |
Immigration to the island requires an online form to be completed prior to passing through customs. This is something I wasn’t aware of before flying out, but it does not take long to complete and I am soon heading for passport control. Despite the electronic nature of the immigration form, passport control assumes a more traditional, laid-back Caribbean approach by simply recording the reference number of the application with pen and notepad!! Finally, there are a few questions about my visit from customs officers and then I am through the doors into the physical and spiritual warmth of the island.
The “9 years late” tale
Claire and I had booked a
Caribbean cruise way back in December 2013, which was scheduled to sail from
Southampton on 2nd January 2015. In the interim period we had looked
at numerous travel guides for all the places on the itinerary and had planned,
what was looking likely to be, a fantastic voyage. One place that we really got
drawn on was the Reggae Beach
Bar & Grill in St Kitts. It just seemed to embody all of our preconceptions about
the Caribbean. We followed the place on Facebook and got more and more excited
as the day drew near.
Then, in November 2014, Claire’s health issues took a turn
for the worse and she was hospitalised with doctors using phrases like “we’ll
make you as comfortable as possible.” As it transpired, Claire defied expert
opinion, as she did so many times, and pulled through. Unfortunately, it was
deemed to great a risk to travel and we had to give up on this trip. It is an
understatement to say that Claire was devastated. In the years that followed,
we worked on adjusting how we travelled and, ultimately managed to have some
wonderful holidays. The disappointment of the missed cruise still surfaced
every now and then though, especially each January or when Reggae Beach Bar
posted something on socials.
When the time came that Claire knew she did not have long
left in this life, she began, I suppose, to make peace with herself. One of the
things she said to me was that I must resume travelling and catch up on places
that we weren’t able to go to with our restrictions and while I was devoting
all my time to caring for her. These were her words, not mine and anything I
did for her, I did willingly out of love, not any sense of duty. She never
specified any places and we never discussed the matter again but, very near the
top of the list was, obviously St Kitts and, more specifically, the Reggae
Beach Bar.
Back to the present
Outside the airport doors, I carry out
a quick check of Google Maps, whilst I still have access to the airport Wi-Fi. My
‘welcome to St Kitts’ text from EE has informed about data and call charges
that there is no way I am paying!! I had checked out the route to my apartment
a few days prior to departure and at only 3km, was easily walking distance. So,
once I’ve worked out which road was the Kim Collins (local athletic legend)
Highway, I am off. Remembering the owner’s instructions, I spy a sign for the
Bird Rock Hotel and assume I am where I am supposed to be but nothing resembles
the photos I had looked up on Google. A quick chat with a couple of locals, who
told me that there is another road to the hotel a bit further along, finally
puts me in front of the apartment. A quick brief from Stanley, the owner,
follows and I am set for my holiday to begin properly.
It is now getting late in the day so I think it best that I
should find a shop for beers and something for dinner. I decide to stroll into
Basseterre, which is only a couple of kms away. There I plan to make my
purchases and have a quick look at the town and potential nightlife for the
next few days. Learning from this short excursion is that nothing is cheap in
the shops and nightlife for tourists is quite limited. Most visitors to the
island come in on cruise ships and, of those who fly in for a longer stay, few
take the option that I have and limit themselves to resort complexes. As it
transpired, I was usually too tired at the end of each day to take advantage of
any bars and clubs even if they had been plentiful. I’m getting on a bit, you
know!
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| Main Square (The Circus) - Basseterre |
Day 2
Before travelling, I had listed a few notable places to take
in, with the priority being the odyssey to Reggae Beach Bar. My research had
also made me believe that nowhere was beyond running distance, which would
contribute to my training for an upcoming ultra race. Google distance from
apartment to bar is 13km which, I feel, will be a nice start. So, after some sweet
raisin and cinnamon bread from the Honey Crunch Bakery, I set off in search of
my personal grail. The planned route does not appear to match reality on the
ground and, once again, after consultation with a local chap, I am directed to
the nearest roundabout, which I will have to reach before doubling back on the
one road to Cockleshell Bay.
Being a volcanic island, I was under no illusion that the
place would be flat but I am taken aback by some of the climbs on the route. By
the time I have completed, what turns out to be 17km plus change and 350m of
steep elevation, I am shredded. Having set out thinking that I would complete
the run in around 90 mins, I have not applied much in the way of sunscreen and
I am quite burned on my shoulders, nose and forehead. I am also suffering quite
badly from chafing of my inner thighs and, even though I have consumed 1.5
litres of water on the run, I am still a tad dehydrated. By way of my powers of
recovery, 2 club sodas and a shrimp salad later, I am feeling more like myself
and it is time for the ceremonial part of the day.
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| Even hillier than it looks! |
My plan, when I had booked the trip to St Kitts, was to order 2 mojitos (our favourite cocktail) one for me and one for Claire. It transpires that the bar doesn’t actually do mojitos so I decide that their rum punch will suffice. I make my order to a very confused Freddie the barman. After I have explained the story behind the order, whilst trying not to choke up, Freddie happily furnishes me with the drinks. I later find out how much rum was actually in these cocktails, when watching Freddie pour 2 full bottles of rum into a 5-litre bottle. Later still, I find out what effect 2 of these cocktails plus a bucket of Carib lager actually have! I’m not quite walking sideways, as Freddie told me he had seen some customers, but I am more than a bit squiffy.
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| One for me, one for Claire |
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| View from the bar |
Once back in the apartment, I pretty much collapse on the
sofa and start to try and watch a bit of TV. This isn’t happening and, after
drifting in and out of consciousness a number of times, I head for the sanctity
of my bed.
Reggae Bar was a great place in a beautiful setting and,
once I had recovered from the run, I had a wonderful afternoon there. Firstly
drinks and lunch by the bar, with good chats to be had with Freddie, then
moving to the beach with my bucket of Carib and to soak up the views and chill.
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| Beer and view |
The only day with any real plan behind it is over and, although I have suffered a great deal on this short part of the trip, it seems appropriate that I should have, due to the magnitude of the destination.
Day 3
My plan to get myself everywhere on two feet had fallen
apart on the first outing. Day 3 plan was to go to Brimstone Hill Fort, which was
20km away, including a steep climb to the finish. After the spectacular fall
from grace the previous day, I have no confidence in completing that in any comfort.
After paying Arthur US$40 the previous day, I’m not prepared to get any more
taxis and there don’t appear to be any buses heading to Brimstone. Consequently,
I am awake on the morning of day 3 at 05:00, thinking about car hire. After a
lengthy selection process, with the main players discounting themselves on the
basis of not actually having any vehicles, I make the decision to try an
independent company – ABC Car Hire.
This place is on the route I was supposed to take the day
before so I assume the road must exist. I trust my instinct and arrive at the
dot on Google but can’t see any obvious car hire place. I am about to give up
and head for my back up selection when a chap, who turns out to be from UK,
turns up. I ask him if he knows where ABC car hire was, to which he admits that
is he! I never did actually gather the guy’s name so he has be known as ‘he’.
He takes me to the shade of his porch and offers me a bottle of water whilst he
has a look at his schedule as to whether he has anything available. It turns
out that he can’t offer me a rental but he can offer me a lift to the next
company down the road as he is heading into town anyway. Considering he isn’t
making any money out of me, the guy is remarkably helpful and I would recommend
his service to anyone.
The second stroke of good luck transpired at Bullseye as I manage to get a 2
door Jeep Wrangler for US$220 plus US$25 for a visitor driving licence for the
best part of 3 days. From entering the door to driving out of the gate takes
approximately 15 minutes. Again, the service is really friendly and helpful
without the usual hard sell on extra insurance. Having found out that the owner
is from Texas, I ask if they offer a military discount. The girl doesn’t know,
only that they offer discount for returning customers. I am happy enough with
the price I am paying so don’t push it any further.
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| Didn't actually get a picture of my Jeep so here's one from Google!! |
As I arrive at Brimstone Fort, I am immediately grateful for my Jeep. The climb is, indeed, very steep and not for the faint hearted, especially after 20km in 30 degree heat to get there! After paying my US$15 for entry, I spend a good couple of hours wandering the place, taking in the views and the history. The time is as much due to my chafed thighs, the heat and the slopes as anything but the place is certainly full value for the entry fee. There is plenty of information about the history and conditions, which were not as exotic as one might initially think. A lot of the history centres on conflict between the British and the French. One might be forgiven for wondering why to countries on each other’s doorstep would travel 4000 miles to have a scrap. Turns out for the same reason that lots of European countries went far and wide – to land grab from the locals.
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| Artillery officer accommodation - used to be very grand! |
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| Raining cannonballs on St George's Fort |
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| View Down to Hospital on Lower Level |
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| View Back Up to The Infantry Barracks |
After negotiating the hill back down to the coastal road, I decide to make full use of my Jeep by carrying on in a clockwise direction and driving around the north of the island. I’m pleased with my decision as I notice a sign post for Mt Liamuiga trail head. I was aware of the most prominent high point on the island but hadn’t, until now, considered it for the itinerary. I make a mental note to investigate the trail access further that evening when back at my digs.
As I continue the drive north, I can’t help but be amazed
how many roadside bars there are. Most of them are nothing more than large
sheds with a couple of stools for customers and none of them appear to be
particularly busy. One could certainly plan a lengthy pub crawl if the desire
arose!
In what seems to be very little time, even driving at 20-40mph,
I arrive at the roundabout by the airport and immediately gather my bearings. I
decide to check out what Frigate Bay has to offer and, after stopping off at a
pharmacy at the Royal St Kitts Resort
to get some nappy cream, I pull in at the Sunset
Café at Timothy Beach Resort for some lunch. On returning to my car from
the pharmacy, I notice a leak from underneath the Jeep. With a slight curse, I
realise I will have to go back to Bullseye and, potentially, trade in my
vehicle for something a bit less enjoyable. But that will have to wait as I am
hungry and thirsty!
Timothy Beach and scoff - both pleasant enough
One decent lunch of chicken and peppercorn sauce with rice and peas later (plus the ubiquitous couple of Caribs) I head back to Bullseye to see what fate had befallen my trusty Jeep. The mechanic is summoned from his workshop, gets under the chassis and lets out a classic Caribbean laugh shouting “man, it just condensation”. He is still laughing when he gets up and shows me the harmless fluid on his fingers. I feel a bit of an idiot but, fortunately I haven’t wasted much time with my over reaction. I mean, how was I supposed to know??
I recall a sign for a few other bars on my run to Cockleshell
Bay so decide to go for a recce and see what they look like. It is getting late
in the afternoon so I have no intention partaking but they are possibilities
for the following day. A brief look around precedes the decision to hit the Shipwreck Bar and Grill for the next
day’s lunch. Besides the look of the bar and the beach, there are monkeys
cutting around the wooded area next to the car park. And who doesn’t love a
monkey?
Another recollection I had was an offer for 2 Caribs for
US$5 at a roadside bar, similar to the ones I had passed earlier in the day.
This one is by Port Zante, where the cruise ships dock, but far enough away for
it to be frequented by locals and not tourists. I find somewhere to park the Jeep,
avail myself of the offer and settle back for a session or people watching. The
bar is right by Basseterre bus station, which is a bustle of activity so plenty
of viewing opportunities. Part way through my first beer a local guy sits down
on the stool next to me. Everyone seems to know this chap and, from his
demeanour, I wonder if he is gangsta. If he is, he doesn’t appear threatening
and even fist bumps me as I get up to leave when I finish my beer. Another
example of the friendliness of the Kittitians.
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| Basseterre bus terminal - hive of activity! |
As I get back to the car, I realised that I have yet to do any serious shopping so decide to call in at Ram’s supermarket on my way back to the apartment. Ram’s is the main supermarket company on the island and more similar in layout to UK stores. Prices are no less steep, but it doesn't seem to bother the local shoppers, many with fully laden trolleys. I leave with some bread, bananas, bratwurst and beers and make my way back to the apartment to transfer them to my stomach.
After dinner, and whilst half watching the movie channel, I
draw up my first proper itinerary of the trip, for the following day. This is
to consist of stops at Bloody Point, Romney Manor and the Wingfield Estate, a
hike up a volcano and an afternoon at the beach with lunch and sunset at the
Shipwreck Bar. Happy with the evening’s work and the plan for tomorrow, I bed
down for the night.
Day 4
I awake to what, I hope, will be a portent for the day
ahead. England have started the 4th Test against India in fine
fettle, batting throughout the day with a century for Joe Root. It wasn’t to
last for the remainder of the match but it was a great start to the day. A
light breakfast of bananas and 2 glasses of water follows and then I was off.
First stop is Bloody Point; I had seen a sign on my drive to Brimstone Hill the previous day and, when I arrive, it transpires that the sign with a brief resume is all that is actually there. On reflection, that seems to be the right thing to do. The massacre of 2000 of the indigenous population is not an event for anyone to celebrate but neither should it be forgotten.
After a short period of sombre reflection, I carry on to Romney Manor and the
Wingfield Estate. Romney Manor, itself, now serves as the main outlet for
Caribelle Batik designer brand. There is very little else to see in the main
house but the surrounding gardens and views are beautiful and well worth the
US$3 entry.
Romney Manor Gardens
The wider Wingfield Estate offers other things to see and do, such as the old sugar plantation and Old Road Rum distillery. I am comfortable having a couple of small Carib beers but rum is definitely off limits as far as driving goes. With jail sentences of 12 months on offer, St Kitts takes drink driving very seriously. Plus, at US$50 for an hour’s tour, it is a tad outside my budget.
I have done a bit of research on hiking Mount Liamuiga and
everything I read suggests this is going to be a challenge. At 1,156m, it is
the highest point of the island and the hike to the top is 700mtrs ascent through
the rain forest which encircles it. There is a small parking area at the
trailhead, which is almost full on my arrival, suggesting the cruise line
excursions had started. There is a couple sat on the bench next to the Volcano
Bar so I ask them if they have been up. They inform me they had started but the
steepness was too much for them and they abandoned the hike and came back to
wait for the rest of their party. Looking at the (I assumed) husband, who must
have tipped the scales at over 20st, I get the feeling that this wasn’t a trip
he should have even started. He is bathed in sweat and hardly even looks up
whilst his wife speaks to me. After getting confirmation that the trail (or, at
least, the part that they had followed) is marked and fairly easy to follow, I
set off on the journey, confident that my lack of a machete is not going to be
an issue.
After about 30 minutes, I meet another lady who has made the
decision to turn back. She seems fit enough but explains that she had not long
had cruciate ligament surgery and her knee was twinging a bit. Whilst I am chatting
with her, another gang appears which takes the amount of people who have been
defeated by the mountain to 7. I am more than a bit shocked to find out that
they have paid US$160 each for the excursion. It doesn’t appear that the cruise
company gave any warnings about the level of physical fitness required to make
the ascent, which seems to be well out of order.
As I venture further along the trail, the incline grows steeper and trail obstacles become more prevalent. Boulders, entwined tree roots, fallen trees, slippery channels all conspiring to slow down even the most intrepid adventurer. I meet more groups of people on their way down but all of these have reached the summit, including 2 French ladies who appear to be in their 70s but are skipping happily down the trail.
Natural obstacles
I encounter one of the expedition guides and decide to try out, what I thought to be, a generic Caribbean greeting. The following comedic exchange takes place:
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Me: “Wagwan”
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Guide: “Et cou” (what it sounded like and I
assume to mean "and you" in a local dialect)
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Me: “I’m good, thanks”
- Guide: “You Jamaican man?”
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Me: “Nah man”
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Guide: “You look it”
This concludes with big smiles from both of us and a passing
fist bump.
The last guide I meet assures me that I am only 5 minutes
away from the summit but I wonder whether that is how quickly he could bound
his way up or normal person time. Fortunately it proves to be the latter. As I
had hoped, from meeting so many people on their way down the trail, the viewing
point is deserted save for a young couple who I catch in mid-smooch. I’m not
sure how far they would have gone had I not appeared but I don’t broach that
particular question. After a bit of a chat, including the revelation that they are
students at the island’s veterinary school (how cool is that?) they leave me to
enjoy the view in solitude. This isn’t a view that Claire and I would have
shared together but I wish that she could have seen it. It is certainly worth
the effort of getting there.
After about 10 minutes of drinking in the view, I turn and start the descent back to the car park. There are still some tricky areas to negotiate, including a sneaky branch that almost skewers my left shin, but I make good time. I even manage to jog for large parts of the trail and pass the young couple from the summit with a quick hello.
About halfway down the trail, I look through a gap in the
canopy and can see a fair amount of rain coming down. It surprises me somewhat
that not a drop was falling into the forest. I take a couple of pictures,
hoping that the rain would be visible. As can be seen in this pic, it didn’t
but I can assure the reader that it was quite heavy!
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| The shady looking bit is actually rain |
I arrive at the car park, which is now almost deserted, save for my Jeep and , what I assume to be, the students’ car. More importantly the Volcano Bar is still open; I had worried that it would be closed, with the majority of hikers now transported back to Port Zante. Perching myself on a bar stool, I order a Carib, realising that this is the first time I am actually using East Caribbean Dollars to pay for something. You generally get EC$ in change, even when you pay with US$, but I hadn’t parted with any until now. The guy behind the bar, who reveals himself through an anecdote to be called Maloney (I never got his first name) is incredibly warm and friendly. He gets a bit melancholy when explaining how he loves to talk to people from different parts of the world, who stop with him for a post hike beer. However, it seems that not too many of the cruise passengers do actually stop for a drink. All too often, they are back into taxis or minibuses and heading back to the port and this makes him sad. We agree that talking to someone is the easiest thing in the world and costs nothing more than a bit of time and a couple of dollars for a beer. I decide to have a second beer as Mr Maloney is such great company. He goes on to tell me how he makes the walk up from his house to his bar whenever he knows there is a cruise ship docked. Sometimes he does well with sales, other times, such as today, he only serves a couple of customers. But he is ever thankful that he lives in such a beautiful place and has no desire to change anything. I am often critical when people don’t have ambition but, in Mr Maloney’s case, it somehow makes perfect sense.
We share a joke about a St Kitts ‘minister of rain’ as the
farmers are concerned that they aren’t getting enough. We agree that, if there
was such a minister, he would be worried about his job. As I start to return to my car, it begins to
rain again. I turn and shout back “The minister can keep his job!!” to which Mr
Maloney explodes in fits of laughter. Such a great guy; he will live long in my
memory.
As I drive back down to the main road, the rain eases off;
it never seems to rain for more than a few minutes at a time in St Kitts. I
pull on to the main road and begin the journey to the Shipwreck Bar and Grill for lunch.
Almost immediately something does not feel right. I look down to my left wrist
and find that my watch is missing!!! After checking around the footwell of the
Jeep, I spin the car back round in the direction I have just come from and
curse my way all the way back to the trailhead!
By this time Mr Maloney has been joined by the vet students;
I am glad that someone else had stopped to have a drink and a chat with him. No
one has seen a watch but I look around where I had been and cannot see it. The
suggestion, that I do not want to entertain, that it could be on the trail fills
me with dismay. I know I wouldn’t have to go far as I remember checking the
time on a few occasions on my way down. But it could, literally, be anywhere in
the rain forest.
I decide to check where I had parked the car before going
back onto the trail and, as I got closer, I immediately spot a familiar object.
The strap pin had detached itself and the watch had fallen from my wrist. In
all probability it would have been when I was waving goodbye to Mr Maloney.
Happy that I was still blessed with extraordinary good luck, I resume my journey
to South Friars Bay and the Shipwreck.
As I have already mentioned, getting to the Reggae Beach Bar was my raison d’être as far as this trip was concerned. I realise through the course of the day that, whilst it ticks all the boxes, Reggae is a contrived destination; somewhere for the cruise ship crowd to take an excursion to. Shipwreck seems more honest and authentic; plus, it has the bonus of being on the west of the island and ripe for a good sunset.
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| Inside Shipwreck |
As I park up and wander towards the bar, the monkeys, that had been so conspicuous yesterday, are nowhere to be seen. I am slightly disappointed and hope they might appear later, but it seems that today is a non-working one for these chaps. It is a slight low point on an otherwise lovely afternoon. The prime table, which is perched on a mini veranda, and closest to the beach, has been grabbed already but the available table that I sit down at is more than ample to get me through the afternoon.
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| View from the afternoon |
A waitress soon arrives with a menu, which has a good
selection of local and wider Caribbean dishes. I’m ashamed to say, I plump for
a good old chicken fillet burger, fries and salad accompanied by the ubiquitous
Carib. The meal is very tasty and excellent value and, with a satisfied belly,
I sit back to watch this small part of the world go by. Looking back at my
camera roll, I didn’t actually take that many pictures; I am just happy to chill
and let the ambience wash over me. The bar has a slogan on its directions
signpost: ‘nuff nuff niceness’, which feels just about right for me!
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| Shipwreck Bar Signpost |
Not long before it is time to take up a sunset position, I
watch a cruise ship setting sail in the distance. This reaffirms my feeling
that cruising has its benefits, such as more destinations and unlimited luggage
(!) but you do lose the opportunity to kick back and fully enjoy everything a
single destination has to offer. I have an abiding memory of docking in Nassau,
Bahamas, on a cruise where we were under curfew from the ship sail times and
had to leave just as the place was bouncing! We were so disappointed.
Giving myself enough time to get into position on the beach,
I finish the last of my beer and pay my bill, then make my way down to the
sand. I’m a sucker for a sunset and this one does not disappoint. The only
downside of this particular sunset is revealed as, no sooner had the sun dipped
below the horizon, dozens of blood thirsty midges come out to play and proceed
to feast on my exposed legs!!
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| Sunset, just before the midges came out to feast! |
Deciding that I have achieved all of the day’s objectives, the midges are obviously a sign that it was time to move. I head back to the car, with one last look for monkeys, and make my way back to the apartment for my last night on the island. Before settling down for the night, I formulate a loose plan to fill the time before I needed to be at the airport.
Day 5
All too soon, the final day of the trip has arrived and a
killing time plan is ready to go. I don’t want to be out too early and end up
wandering around aimlessly so I take my time to get up, showered and dressed. Then
a relaxed breakfast and considered packing without the usual residual fear that
I might have left something behind. I
finally depart my home for the last 4 nights at 11:00, hand over the keys to
Stanley and, after a brief leaving chat, head off for Port Zante for the first
stop on the day’s itinerary.
Port Zante is on the other side of the main road from the
rest of Basseterre and it is as different as night and day. There are shops and
bars, which are purely there for tourist dollars, with no evidence of Kittitian
culture whatsoever. I decide to have a look round everywhere in any case with the
only mandatory purchase being a fridge magnet. The shops follow a similar theme
of t-shirts and other souvenirs. There are a couple of bars in the centre,
which are well populated already, even though it is not yet midday. Why people
would get of their cruise ship onto an island that, probably, most of them have
never visited before and then go straight to the pub??
I am accosted by the greeter of a skin care shop who has noticed my sunburned nose. He gives me a sachet of moisturiser and then lures me in for a ‘free’ skincare treatment. I am fully aware that there will be nothing free about this offer if I don’t keep my wits about me. I follow him inside and am handed over to a young lady who proceeds to swab me down with a couple of lotions including one that removes bags from eyes. It has certainly done the trick after just a couple of minutes but has a slightly sticky feeling which makes me wonder if the effect will wear off as it dries out. The young lady goes on to tell me about the package on offer which, as I suspect, is a bit steep for one of my slender means. “It’s normally $600 but our promotional price today is only (!) $300. I don’t think I’ve spent that much on skin care in my entire life!! I am honest with her and say I’ll see how I get on over the next couple of hours and then make a decision. What I don’t say is that the decision is always going to be no way!
Leaving Port Zante with my fridge magnet and a couple of
bits for the kids, I head off for a return journey to Reggae Beach Bar. Because
of my squiffiness on day 2, I didn’t really take much notice of the Rush Slowly
shop next door and want to see if there is anything of interest. I have a quick
stroll around but nothing really catches my eye. To get some benefit from
coming down South again, I have a slow walk along the whole of the Cockleshell beach
front, all 400 metres of it. There are a couple of other bars, which are nice
enough, but none as busy as Reggae. There’s marketing for you!
I have decided to return to Shipwreck for lunch as I had a
really nice time there, the previous day. On the way I detour into the Christophe
Harbour Marina as I have seen some fancy looking boats from the road and want a
closer look. I can’t get too close as the jetty is gated and manned by security
guards, for obvious reasons. It is one extreme to another, as there are super
yachts, that would take me 100 lifetimes to save up for, down to basic motorboats
mooring up with a handful of tourists on an excursion around the coastlines. I
find a place to sit where I can gaze at these magnificent craft for a bit
longer. Part of me is picturing myself cruising around on one of these floating
palaces, the other part wonders, even if I had the means to buy something like
that, would I? It seems obscene to be honest.
Happy that I’ve seen enough and my social conscience has had a boost, I get back to the Jeep and make my way to Shipwreck. I park up and there is still no sign of the monkeys – is it me? Deciding that it is the monkeys’ loss, not mine, I go in and find myself a table. Happy that my choice of Shipwreck over Reggae is the right one, I order a shredded chicken salad. Still not very adventurous, but better than another burger. After my lunch is finished, I slouch back in my chair with a beer and, whilst gazing out to see, ponder my time on the island.
St Kitts is a beautiful place with stunning, diverse scenery
and wonderful beaches. The people are warm and welcoming, even those that aren’t
service providers. Even when I have been strolling along the road, people have
still smiled and said hello. There is enough to see and do for all tastes.
There are some things that I didn’t try, such as the island scenic railway and
the rum distillery. But what I did visit, I feel I got full value for my time
and dollar.
People raised eyebrows and commented that it was a long way
to go for 4 nights, however I found it to be just right. I am not one for spending
all day lying on a beach and, as I have a number of trips planned to other
corners of the World, I do have to operate on a budget. I’m not going to go on
about the advantages over my trip to cruising or vice versa; people who like
cruises do so for very good reasons and who am I to challenge that. Personally,
I like to get involved with places I visit and the people that live there.
Although St Kitts is a small island, being just a third the
size of my home island of Anglesey, I would recommend car hire. There are many
to choose from but I would recommend booking in advance. I got lucky but I
could have easily struck out.
Pondering over, I check my watch and wonder if I have time
for a last beer or if I should head off. The main consideration is handing the
car back and what admin might take up time there. With that in mind, I decide
to pay my bill and head back to Bullseye. As it transpires, the handover takes
minutes, with no issues. I am quite happy to walk the few hundred metres but
the rep says she will get someone to drive me up. After shouting “Antony!!” at
the top of her voice with a second shout when he doesn’t appear immediately,
Antony appears and we jump back into my Jeep.
I am only in the car with Antony for a few minutes but I get
yet another example of life as a Kittitian. Antony points out a private jet on
the runway. Thinking back to the yachts, I remark whether anyone really needs
these things in their lives. “I don’t man, I have everything I need on the island”.
I think about a quote I have on my bathroom wall at home which says, “When you
love what you have, you have everything you need”. Maybe we all need to stop
and think like that once in a while.
Once in the terminal, getting to security in the first place
is proving tricky as my electronic boarding pass is raising a couple of
eyebrows. After some checks, I am finally let through to go though the security
checks which are as painless as can be. The departure lounge is packed when I
get through but, in what seems no time at all, empties pretty quickly when 2
flights to US and Canada start boarding. I decide to spend the last of my
dollars on beer, even though they are twice the price as outside the airport!!
I don’t realise it at the time but once we take off, it is
going to me take over 18 hours to get home. I am also blissfully unaware that,
when I land at Gatwick, it will be minus 2 degrees C. For the moment I am still
enveloped in physical and spiritual warmth that will comfort me whenever I think
of it. I am still sad that Claire didn’t get to experience the island but I know
she will be overjoyed that I made it.
As they say here, “Live de Life!”
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