Wine and Naked Women
10 May 2009 | En Route to St. Martin
Grabbed rental car, a plucky little Suzuki Gran Vitara, at 0800 for tricky drive to Spanish Town for clearance out of BVI and tour of island. Roads are steep and switch-backed up and down the side of 1359 foot Virgin Peak.
Immigration showed at 0830, customs at 0900 and cashier at 1000. Dallied over good $5 breakfast at nearby New Dixie Cafe, then paid departure fee of $5.16 and was free to go exploring.
Was dismayed to see a sign reading "DIP". As you can imagine, was highly incensed, but shortly thereafter, when car stopped bouncing, realized that, since no one knew I was coming, it probably referred to someone else.
Also noticed liberal use of speed bumps all over the island (almost exclusively on roads). Not the moon launch kind, but effective nonetheless. Apparently, Virgin Gordians have lead feet and now, presumably, bad suspensions. Vast majority of vehicles were small SUVs. Suppose the cliffside roads and velocity inhibitors encourage small, sturdy vehicles.
Once flew into V.G. airport in a Twin Otter en route from Tortola to St. Thomas. Pleased to report that, unlike Beef Island airport previously described, this one has been unravaged by progress.
At southeast end is Copper Mine Point, sight of (you guessed, didn't you?) a former copper mine and smelt (having no relation to fish or disagreeable olfactory input, such as for example, "That rotting fish, smelt?", but rather to making copper do things that it ordinarily wouldn't).
As Sol sets behind Virgin Peak on the horizon, Night Hawk ahead, somewhere, and Emily Grace and Bristol Rose astern, somewhere, Anthem plows noisily ahead under staysail and double reefed main in sloppy five foot seas about ten degrees off rhumb. Discomfort is modest and so is progress, but the lure of St. Martin draws me on... you know, the bread and cheese.