El Caribe: St. Kitts and Barbados

Days 6/7
St. Kitts, Lesser Antilles / 17˚.11.11’ N
Barbados, Windward Islands / 13˚.06.12’ N
October 28-29, 2010

From the moment I arrived on St. Kitts I felt enveloped in a warm quilt of affection and memory. This was "every island"--those islands that have drawn me in and made me love them in a very short period of time. I felt as if I were, alternately, on a Greek Island or on Easter Island, far out in the Pacific. I felt as if I'd been there before.

Glenda and I had gotten off the boat and were quizzing a taxi driver about bringing us around the island. From our readings, it appeared small enough to drive the perimeter road and be back to the ship with penty of time to spare.

We were negotiating a price when another couple, Chris and Ursula of the UK, asked us he we'd like to share the taxi, thus lowering the price. Within a minute our group of two had become a group of four. It was a stroke of good luck, just as it was a stroke of good luck to hire Mr. Calvin Joseph as our guide and driver.

He led us out of the small port town of Basseter, drive north along Main Road, on the Caribbean side of the island. St.Kitts was an unspoiled island, with seas of sugarcane and breadfruit trees growing in its interior.

St. Kitts is a volcanic island and a luxuriant rain forest climbing to the island's highest peak, is full of tiny green monkeys, who were ever present at every stop we made.

Poor Calvin. Chris and I, both photographers with identical equipment (Nikon D90 with and 18-200 mm lens) were constantly asking him to pull over.

How not to! We meandered through tiny villages with pastel colored houses of stone and weathered wood, past sweeping vistas of surf pounding a black volcanic shoreline, past ancient Carib petroglyphs carved into black volcaninc rock.

Undeveloped hills rose between he calm Caribbean and the windswept, adventurous Atlantic. I was reminded of forays into Easter Island's interior, itself volcanic in origin. above us, on the towering peacks of Mounts Liamulga and Verchilds, long dormant volcanoes, clouds perennially enveloped the summits in a rain forest. It was on the slopes of these cool, fertile, wet hills that the island's crops were grown.

Perhaps it was because it was low season, or perhaps becasue St. Kitts in still a bit undiscovered, the beaches were uncrowded and quiet. Perhaps it was because the island brought me back to other islands I've known all my life, islands in the Mediterranean and South Pacific, that I felt an immediate affinity to the place.

I wanted to stay, but the ship waited for no one. I simply made a huge mental note that St.Kitt's was an island to which I'd return.

That night, the four of us dined, reminiscing about the day and sharing travel stories. their only other cruise was two years ago from Valparaiso, chile, around Cape Horne, and on to Buenos Aires. Not only did Chris and I share the same camera and lens, but the same cruise experiences as well.

On Day 7, we woke to a heavy, warm tropical rain. Fortunately, though, we didn't port in Barbados until 10:00 am which gave the storm time to blow out, which it did--sort of. It did drizzle on and off, and the day was punctuated with far more clouds that sun, but it didn't dampen our collective mood.

The night before we'd made plans to spend the day together. We'd travelled well the day before and were an easy group to please. Of course, as it is in all ports of call, a taxi and driver found us first. We set on a price and headed out of town.

We slowly wound our way out of Bridgetown, the capital. Flags were at half mast and we asked Rodger, our driver, why. the island's much respected Prime Minister had died a few days earlier. Dead at 48 of Pancreatic Cancer!

I fully intend to spend all my money before I die, doing the BIG trips whie I still have my health and sanity. There are no guarantees.

Barbados is a rather large rock jutting out of the ocean, with the calm Caribbean on one side and the robust Atlantic on the other. Unlike St.Kitts, its topography was somewhat flat, with tiny villages alone and between small mountain ridges. The narrow roads we travelled brought us past large plantations that raised sweet potatoes, yams and oceans of sugarcane and past scores and scores of little churches, some no larger than an old Adirondack summer camp. We meandered past old-growth stands of mahogany forests and Royal Palms. Despite the intermittent rain, it was beautiful. and, despite the fact that we were latitudinally almost in the tropics, it wasn't unbearbaly hot. Ever present trade winds kept temperatures oderate and beat down the humidity.

Twice, we reached high spots on the island that affored gorgeous vistas of long,white sandy beaches. One was at St. Michael's church. The church overlooked the Atlantic and the cemetary had draves dating back to the 1600's. Workmen were busy preparing a grave for the newly deceased PM.

Another vista brough us high above Bathsheba, Barbados' most scenic streth of beach. Crashing Atlantic surf had eroded the shoreline, forming steep cliffs and prehistoric rock formations.

We were back in Bridgetown with time to spare. our time was too short on this little bit of England in the Caribbean, but we did the best we could, chalking up Barbados and another place to return to someday.

Both Tortola and Barbados brought back another shadowed memory of that first cruise, years ago. We'd arrive in Nassau after a very rough night at sea, and I remember my Dad renting a car to get us around the island. Maybe we had two days there, and he, being the more adventurous of my two parents, wanted to see it all.

In those days, Nassau was still a British island and I remember using shillings and crowns as the currency.

I also remember that Nassau was the first place in the work where I experienced driving on the left, steering wheel on the right. I also remember my mother's constant gasps and "Oh my gods" at every twist and turn in the road. It was probably my Dad's first driving on the left, too.

None of us had an iota of experience driving on the "wrong side of the road," but we obviously got back to the ship alive. I remember it as being fun and new. At that time, my travel taste buds were just awakening to the unusual. Fortunately, I still devour travel and often look to those early, early experiences as the genesis of my life time of travel adventure.

I also remember my Dad as being quite brave. To this day, I've never accepted the challenge of driving on the left, even though I spent months living in countries where this the norm

Despite all my travels, there are things my Dad's done tht I may never do.