May 18, 2013 , Iles des Saintes
We chose to leave Deshaies early in the morning, with solemn promises to come back. This was not only a very charming and very French little fishing village, a peaceful and calm inlet of an anchorage, but a place we both want to come back and explore much, much more. Not to mention buy some baguettes and pastries and cheeses. However, hurricane season was softly calling our name and we still had miles to cover...
And so as the church-bells softly sing-songed eight times, we weighed anchor, hoisted the sails and enjoyed a beautiful run down the coast noting several other areas that we would like to visit next time around. After a few hours, we arrived at by Basse-Terre, and leaving the safety of the large and mountainous land mass that is Guadeloupe; the winds picked up, the seas roared to life and we began the 7 nm crossing known as "les Saintes Passage". Yikes, and Fun !!
We arrived safe and sound, not to mention Very Salty once again, in the archipelago known as the Îles des Saintes ("Islands of the Saints"), or even more simply yet, Les Saintes.
This area in general, along with these islands in particular, are mostly volcanic and only two of the of 9 islands are populated. Terre-de-Haut and Terre-de-Bas, loosely translated, this means "Land on Top" and "Land on Bottom". Inventive?
We picked up a mooring in the only small town here, Bourg des Saints, on Terre d'en Haut. We smiled at the many red roofed buildings that dotted the cliffs, as mixed with the very lush greens, made for a pretty view...
and many colourful local "fishing" boats,
that dotted the beachside.
We were surprised to see just how busy this place was, the two ferries incoming tourists on a regular basis, and also in moored boats (I believe the cruising guide indicates about 80 mooring balls available), not to mention loud music... we later learned the Fishermen's Festival was on tho go, as evidenced by the blaring bass thumping beats coming form the tents on the beach. Oh no...
But first, we watched quite a few dolphins swim by to say hello. Of course, they were a tad camera shy. Next time, perhaps?
Mr. C.C., our intrepid explorer of this general area as if you didn't know by now was here during his second voyage in 1493 and he named these islands "Los Santos", after "All Saints Day". I think he was starting to run out of creative naming juices as well.
As we know though, he wasn't the "first"... there were people visiting this place already (but not living here as there was no fresh water to be found and so they came here mostly to fish). The Arawark's name for this place was Caaroucaëra. Hmm... I have no idea what that means, or how to say it, however, it does sound intriguing...
We dinghied to the dock,
clambered up, and walked in. Funny how we never know what to expect as we walk down the dinghy dock and gingerly place our first footsteps on the streets of "town"...
We both looked at each other as we were immediately shocked and pleasantly surprised, mouths almost agape, at what we thought was going to be a seemingly non-happening town...
We walked along what must have been the main street, and it was a mixture of open shops selling clothes, artwork, ice-cream... everyone was milling out and about,
hardly a car to be seen, the only invasive sounds were those of the scooters going every which way.
We paid our mooring ball bill at the MLS office, enquired about their washing machines, 2 washers and 2 dryers in the back room, but the hours just didn't seem to jive with our visit. It takes 2.5 hours to dry a load. And so with siesta time (closed office) you're pretty much looking at an all day affair and tomorrow being Sunday it was only open in the morning. Oh well...
We were most curious about this building that I snapped a quick photo of as we were arriving here,
and as we later walked up on the road behind it,
discovered it was a doctor's office. Since neither one of us had a medical issue (thank the Saints!) we didn't have an excuse to go in and visit, just to scope out the place. Besides, it was closed. Siesta or France hours? We weren't sure.
Some of the buildings were intriguing and old,
and some of the homes nestled between shops and restaurants, distinctly evidenced life of the locals,
probably fishermen, surviving solely on their catch of the day, we would presume.
Quite the interesting place, that certainly from the closed restaurants (siesta time) and very expensive shops that dot the waterfront, welcomes tourists and cruisers, but one that also seems to have quite an interesting history to it as well.
Les Saintes belongs to the Club of the Most Beautiful Bays of the World, and hmm, from this vantage point, it certainly is pretty picturesque.
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May 16, 2013 , Deshaies, Guadeloupe
When we were still living Da Life on Land, we would read blogs about others adventurin' in far away and seemingly exotic places but sometimes doing so made Da Life on Land that much more difficult as we could barely count down the days until we too would be writing blogs and adventurin'.
And as I sit here and contemplate this, it boggles my mind that we've come this far, seen this much, and are, ourselves, adventurin'. Who would've ever thunk?
Anyhow, one of these blogs was/is written by the "fun loving couple", Rebecca and Mike Sweeny, of Zero To Cruising fame.
Somewhere and sometime in their two plus years of adventurin', they wrote an e-book abouth their hiking escapades complete with pictures and all, entitled "Ready to Get Wet?" (available through their website, by clicking on Amazon, which gives them a small percentage of revenue of sales) which we promptly bought. And then we promptly got depressed as we realized we hadn't even "left yet", never mind would we, could we, one day be adventurin' "just like them"?
A lot has happened in the 291 days since we have left our home port of Halifax, Nova Scotia (Canada) but all that is in these blogs... So fast track to present, where we presently find ourselves adventurin' in Deshaies (Guadeloupe), and the site of the very first hike referenced in their book.
Zero to Cruising's book "Ready to Get Wet?" is user-friendly, well written, with excellent practical and safety type of advice (trim your toenails and don't for heaven's sake wear flip flops or Crocs). The directions clear, with a few added motivational pictures added in there to keep you enthused about what you're going to be seeing.
Backtrack a bit, this morning, during breakfast, we enjoyed a wonderful visit with Celilo whom we hadn't seen in a while, totally missed in Sint-Maarten (we were leaving and they were arriving), and who had leap-frogged ahead of us since then. Their plan was to leave today, so we sadly said our good-bye's, knowing full well it's a la prochaine, see you soon and can't wait !! And who knows, maybe we'll leap-frog ahead of you too, HA!
Then we dug out our sort-of-sneakers (Skechers for me, and Clark's Hiking Sandals for Dave), got our water (note to file, buy some camel-packs), filled our sack with goodies (snacks, knife, band-aids, sun-tan lotion, extra camera batteries, and do we need any OFF?), and headed out.
Off the main street in town, the dirt road easy to find,
and Dave was eager to get started.
"Umm, pace yourself dear" I gently nagged at him.
"Yes, dear" he moaned.
He's a man of action, an Aries to boot, and once a goal is set, he's off to the races... with no one going to stop him!
We enjoyed the lush vegetation type of very green scenery as we walked across the pebbles and boulders, following the river, this way and that way, gingerly stepping on the smaller rocks as they could be wobbly, using our hands and arms to propel us over the big boulders and mostly feeling quite victorious as we were not only gaining ground or so it felt, but grinning with joy, whooping out loud (the critters must have thought we were crazy), enjoying the moment as we found ourselves here in the Guadeloupian Forest, hiking on the Deshaies River... we had MADE IT!
Sometimes we came to a water-logged impasse where we couldn't quite immediately figure out where to go next, this was not a well trodden path to hike but rather the general directions were "follow the river". Which we did. Sometimes that meant zig-zagging back and forth across the river, sometimes that meant clambering over or under branches. Dave being taller went over. I being shorter, went under. Or sometimes not. Whatever.
Now I know why we hop-scotched our way on the sidewalked streets when we were kids... see how to follow the rocks across? Sometimes those early lessons in life are more important than we realize.
So the man of longer legs gets way ahead of me and gleefully points the way,
But then it all catches up to us and we just need to sit and rest...
... we were, admittedly, starting to feel the burn of some seriously under-used muscles.
The trees reaching their tall branches to the sky and varied foliage provided just enough shade to make this hike comfortable and not too blaring hot. The chirping of the birds enveloped us in a cacophony of natural sounds. Butterflies and moths (or was that a bat?) flitted all around us. The breeze helping to cool us off as we continued, onward and up and over boulder and rocks and under branches we went...
It was a fun hike, the kind we like, never knowing what to expect. Sometimes it was a balancing act,
where I found myself hoping that I hadn't eaten one too many mille-feuilles that would result in the branch breaking just as I was crossing it. Since Dave had gone first, I knew I was good to go. Grin.
We hadn't brought a watch with us, so had no idea what time it was, or how long we'd been clambering over these never ending river of rocks for. It felt like we'd been walking for a long while, and the sweat was on...
The no watch might not have been a good idea. We remembered their book indicated it was a good 2 hour hike, Difficulty level 3. We hadn't yet attempted Level 1 or 2, so really had no idea what was in store for us with Level 3, but felt like we had been walking for way longer than "two hours" and pretty soon, I moaned,
"Dave, honey..."
"Yes, dear" he asked...
"Do you see the end yet?"
We did know we were getting tired, our muscles starting to ache, and our footsteps not so agile anymore. And when one gets tired, the mental side of things gets fuzzy too, and we found ourselves not so sure footed anymore. We reminded ourselves to be extra careful and vigilant of where our feet landed and our footsteps up the river. We were alone, in the middle of nowhere, getting further up into the middle of nowhere, and well.. best not to think about what could happen, right?
And then finally, we saw the visible path up the hill that showed signs of a road, where Mike and Rebecca reminded us to "not stop", for heaven's sake, and "just keep going - it's a scant 20 minutes after that". And as with all things, the last stretch is The Hardest.. we kept looking for signs of The Unmistakable End.
A scant 20 minutes? OMG it felt like another hour.
And then, there it was, in the middle of nowhere, a dark patch just ahead,
it was kind of ominous seeing the darkness, the blackness of emptyness, by the trees. Thank GOD our muscles screamed as we neared the expanse of rocky beach and our feet yelled "stop, like now" as we kept climbing over the last few giant boulders of rocks, which just seemed to be getting bigger and larger and mossier and wetter and harder to navigate.
And then there it was... we could hear (but not see) the crashing sound of ferocious water. That propelled and energized us into a last burst of energy...
Right in front of us was a large murky pool that we had no choice but to wade into and through, and figure out how to navigate the rock that was smack dab in the middle of the crevasse where we needed to go. Which side of it do we pass? Is there room above the waterline? Do we need to dive below? Will we even fit on either side? And how the hell do we bring our camera so that we have proof positive that we made it ??
Logical thinking, of course. Thank goodness for a Ziplock Baggie and a mouth and teeth to carry it with ! Don't laugh, necessity is the mother of invention! Umm , Dave ?
Some quite undignified contorted poses later and we had gotten ourselves through the very narrow ledge of a pass above the waterline and into another deep pond on the other side, where we dog paddled for a second or two around the backside of the rock and saw, with immense satisfaction the roaring waterfall just ahead.
Oh, you have no idea how great it felt to stand under the gushing, cool water. Helped to cool off. Just to breathe all of the magnificence in. WOW.
You couldn't wipe the grins off our faces at this moment in time.
We stayed for a while. Soaked it all in. Literally. From the roaring sounds of the waterfall, to the impressive power of the rushing water, to the lushness of the branches and leaves and trees and hanging roots and moss.
And then knew it was time to go, and so back out we clambered, all undignified like, and hop-scotched our way down the rocks (down always seems easier than up, right?) and pretty soon we were at the fork in the river that led up to the road.
Now, we don't know what to tell you, Mike and Rebecca, but we think the real workout, was walking the very steep downhill road back to town. THAT was almost unmanageable. Perhaps it was our aching muscles. Perhaps it was the heat and hot sun and we were out of water. Perhaps it was our unclipped toenails and blisters on my feet as I haven't worn sneakers in forever and a day and thank goodness for the band-aids. Who knows.
And we were shocked to realize to what a steep extent we had walked "up the river", clambering over rocks for a very long time had given us no clue just how high up the mountain we'd come.
We made it back down to the Bakery, the only store open in the Siesta time of early afternoon. And we bought every single bottle of water we could find. And a bottle of carrot & orange juice. Sat down. And didn't move for over an hour as we drank every precious mouthful of everything cold we could find. And then we somehow got ourselves to our boat. And didn't move for another hour as we drank even more water and emptied one of Banyan's Water Tanks. And then we had a swim to get rid of the lactic acid buildup so the muscles wouldn't seize too much, somehow managed to have a feast of a supper, and then I asked,
"Dave, honey, can you get the camera cord for me, please".
To which he replied,
"No, Dear, I can't move".
Hhhrmph.
NOTE: Dave did (eventually) get the camera cord and many more photos were (eventually) uploaded on Sailing Banyan's Facebook Page.
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Mike
May 15, 2013 , Deshaies, Guadeloupe
After our morning coffee watching a few of the local fishermen heading out for their catch, we waved hello and good-bye as we weighed anchor and headed out.
One reef in the main, mostly Easting once again in 20 (plus) knot winds, with some bashing into the built-up seas, although much less than the day before, and once we'd turned around the corner of Montserrat and got away from the land effect and sea effect and God only knows what other effect, the seas became much less agitated and twisted, we had a great sail, and after 45 nm we arrived safe and sound, and anchored in Deshaies, a tiny fishing village on the North-West coast of Guadeloupe.
After our last Customs & Immigration experience, we were a little hesitant to repeat yet another check-in procedure, especially since the Cruising Guides indicate that it's simply a computer terminal, in The Pelican shop by the waterfront, that is open in the morning, closed for an afternoon siesta, and re-opens at 4. Hmm, ok?
"Dave, honey, ya think the Cruising Guide is right this time?" I asked... However, it's easy to understand how in these little communities, the one year old written information can quickly become out-of-date as things change.
Once anchored in this gorgeous little bay, we got ourselves squared away, put the lines away (yadda, yadda, yadda), got the engine on dinghy, and Dave dove on the anchor,
a must-do as this time he found that the anchor had dropped on a piece of rock and was not set well at all, especially not given the high winds forecasted for the evening We repositioned and this time, we were dug in but good. Peace of mind.
We waited till 4, dinghied to shore, and are happy, no thrilled, no, just ecstatic to report that not only was there a The Pelican shop, not only was it on the waterfront a short walk away, not only was it open, not only was there a computer, not only did the computer work, but the whole process took us all of 5 minutes.
Could've maybe been done in 4 minutes, but the extra time was due to Dave's one fingered typing approach. Grin. We paid the $6 fee, signed the printed page and voilà, tout fini. Free to stay for a day or a year. And free to stay in the area for 48 hours after clearing out. Now THAT's helpful, non?
Now this is technology. This is how they all should work. This is like enjoying superfast WiFi. HA !
All around me we saw and heard French. I was thrilled, as being bilingual, or trilingual even, and working on my 4th language (Spanish), excited to be able to speak and understand the Deshaisiens. Dave, being pretty bilingual as well was thinking he would be able to at least keep up with what was being said and contribute a few things...
Well, not that easy my friends. This place is French, yes, but, WTF?? I could read some of the words, some no, as in what's that accent doing there? And how did you spell that ? I could understand even less of the conversations I was having and conversations quickly resorted back to English. WTF?
Eventually I realized that this is because there's a bit of Creole in there. Specifically Antillean Creole, whose roots lie in the African and Caribe languages, and somehow combined with French... WOW. To top it off I thought I spoke fast, but holy crap, this was all beyond me.
For example, as I type this it's raining. (There always seems to be an afternoon shower here). Anyhow, the Guadalupanos would say : Lapli ka tonbé. (La pluie qui a tombé). Or today is beautiful : Odi-a se an bel journin (Aujourd'hui est une belle journée). Or i'm going to the beach : ka alé bodlanmè-a laplaj (aller ... who knows... a la plage). WTF ??
This beautiful place was called "Karukera" (The Island of Beautiful Waters) by the Arawak people, until the Caribs came and killed them all and then who knows what it was called. And as we can all guess, C.C. came along but this time, he was thirsty my friends, and stopped here to replenish his supplies of water. He named this place "Santa María de Guadalupe de Extremadura" after another Monastery somewhere or other.
Interestingly enough, C.C. "discovered" the pineapple here and called it "piña de Indias" (Pine of the Indians). I'm hoping to discover some pineapple here as well, given our supplies of fruit, at the moment are non-existant and we are in severe fruit withdrawl mode.
Back on the boat, we lowered the Yellow Q Flag, and hoisted the French one,
and settled on our verandah for the evening, enjoying the view and enjoying a just bought baguette, some pâté and a glass of vino, parfait !!
As we listened to the church bells chime the hour, we both agreed, that although we haven't seen or done much here yet, we already love this place ! And for anyone wanting to come here, I wouldn't worry about the French, we got by just fine in English.
Bonzu is their way of saying Bonjour, Hello, Good Morning.
Always a great way to start any conversation. Along with a smile.
Harry Belafonte sang it well "Mèsi Bondyé" (Merci Bon Dieu)
We are saying Mèsi too.
Merci and Thank You.
We are truly blessed and grateful. Ah que oui.
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May 14, 2013 , Montserrat
I remember hearing, and watching the news of the destruction caused by Hurricane Hugo in 1989. As with all stories of such damage, there were terrible images to contend with on the news.
I also vividly remember watching the news of the erupting volcano of Montserrat in 1995, seeing the rising cloud of ash billowing into the skies, and watching in horrified fascination, the ensuing unimaginable devastation caused to both people and the land.
And today, we found ourselves sailing by the coast of where all this happened. That in of itself is pretty... Incredulous !!
Hurricane Hugo caused alot of damage here in 1989, and if that wasn't enough, in 1995 (on the 18th of July to be precise), the Soufrière Hills volcano erupted after almost 300 years of inactivity.
As seems to be the historical trend in our travels as of late we learned once again that the Arawak and Caribe people lived here and their name for this places was "Alliouagana" (a prickly bush that grows on this island).
Of course, C.C. came by, saw this place, claimed it and named it "Santa Maria de Montserrat" after a Monastery in Spain. The colonists brought in African slaves for labor, profiting from production of sugar, rum, arrowroot and cotton.
Interestingly enough, Oliver Cromwell exiled many Irish people (political and military prisoners, widows, orphans and the unemployed) here. The widowed? The orphaned? The Unemployed?
The eruptions in 1995 and again in 2010 totally obliterating Montserrat's capital, Plymouth,
the lava flow destroying everything in its path.
Ironic that for such a small island, where the destruction rendered almost half of it uninhabitable, it is at the same time growing larger...
Today the volcanic activity continues, and as we listened to the morning news, we heard that we were currently at level 2. Hmm....
Much of the nation is "uninhabitable", be wary of the "exclusion zone" and records indicate that about 2/3 of the population left the island.
We opted to keep on going, and allow ourselves extra time to come back "next time", in order to make the most of the 72 hour clearance one is given to visit this island.
We sailed along the coastline and were not only awed, but impressed and completely mesmerized. The photos I have taken truly do not do any of what we were seeing, justice. The colours an ironic feast for the eyes, from the ash greys to the lush and new vegetation of the greens to the destructive hues of the browns, the mist rising, the peak of the volcano hidden in the clouds, Such a force of nature... we could smell the sulphur in the air, feeling the mist rain down on us (or was that ash?). We felt totally insignificant.
Perhaps it was a night without sleep, perhaps it was the gusty winds, perhaps it was the 10 foot seas (that be 3 meters around here), who knows, but after a few hours of trying to fight the 1.5 plus knots of current against us, the bashing into the seas, one of us was quite unhappy,
"Dave, honey..."
"Yes dear" he said, and always aiming to please, turned us around. Perhaps he was a tad unhappy as well ?
This time we anchored in the relative comfort of Old Road Bay anchorage (the cruising guide indicates that when the "volcano is active, this area is very much in the danger zone... when the volcano quiets down, you may anchor here as a curiosity") where we spent a quiet afternoon doing chores, running the vaccum thanks to the power of the generator, and thankfully slept all night.
We tried to leave, we didn't quite make it, no damage done...
Onward tomorrow...
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May 13, 2013 , Montserrat
I left Dave to deal with check-out procedures as I speeded over to the Jamiacan bakery next door for some baguettes, and ended up with some Jamaican chicken and beef patties that were beyond delicious.
After the police were called in, for Dave (as we hadn't quite properly cleared in it seems), we were allowed to leave, with quite specific instructions to "depart immediately". Yes sir !!
We had cleared in properly in St-Kitts, got a boat pass that allowed us to visit (and check out of Nevis) one island over, 7 nm away, but still the same country however one that requires you to check in again, and visit people behind 3 closed doors, each door beside the other, and fill out forms, in triplicate.
And never, ever believe the agent behind closed door number one, who tells you the guy behind closed door number two is not there, and that's not problem !!
So we made our way east,
and lived life on a slant for the next 40 some odd nautical miles. Watching the flocks of birds feasting on something,
and easting our way towards Montserrat.
Montserrat is another island in the Caribbean chain, this one British though. Our plan was to just make an overnight stop and keep going in the morning.
and the views upon arrival, were pretty darn impressive,
as we craned our necks trying to get a view of any spewing lava,
but none was in evidence, which was just as good, as supper preparations were in order. Not having eaten much all day, as "easting" seems to put my tummy in a bit of disorder, I was starving, and had the bright idea to make us a dinner to fill that empty void.
In the morning, I had thinly sliced up some cucumbers and sprinkled salt on them and allowed to sit for half an hour or so, to allow the juices to escape, drained them and added some thinly sliced onions and some herbs. In the meantime I had brought to boil about 1/2 cup of vinegar and about 1/4 cup of brown sugar, adding some more sugar to taste, as well as some chili pepper flakes for heat. And poured that over the cucumbers and allowed to chill in the fridge.
A light and refreshing cucumber salad,
accompanied with a chicken curry that was simmering,
while I made up some roti,
and the resulting dish erupted on our plates with flavour,
as we settled into this landscape, hoping the volcano on land would stay calm for the night at least.
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May 12, 2013 , Nevis
Leaving the comfort of St-Kitts, we sighted an island off in the distance, it's peak covered in clouds. And records show that when Christopher Columbus first saw the island in 1493, he named it "Nuestro Senora de las Nieves" which translated to " Our Lady of the Snows". We didn't see any snow, but we did see lots of clouds covering the tall (as in 3500 feet) dormant volcanic peak.
However, as we've learned, there was life before Christopher Columbus and the island was named Oualie by the Caribs which means "Land of Beautiful Waters".
Today Charlestown is the capital of Nevis, but back in 1690, a huge earthquake and tsunami destroyed the then capital, Jamestown. History reports that the whole city sank under the sea. Might make for some good snorkelling ??
Alls we saw along the coast as we drove by trying to find the "perfect" mooring ball were beautiful sandy beaches, and home of what looked like quite the luxurious Four Seasons resort (sort of empty at the moment, but their WiFi way too prominent for much of Wirie's scan mode). Dommage. Apparently, in the building of the Four Seasons, a bacteria was introduced that killed many of the palm trees. Double Dommage.
Ok, so, back in 1882 Nevis and Saint Kitts and Anguilla were all one big happy family, or to be more precise, they became an associated state with full internal autonomy in 1967. Anguilla seceded in 1971. Saint Kitts and Nevis became independent on 19 September 1983. Nevis now wants to leave as well. Not one big happy family anymore huh ?
So given all that, Customs and Immigration is a big you know what in the you know what !! We had cleared back St Kitts, and get a boat pass so we could travel the one hour, a measly 7 nm, across the expanse of water called "the narrows", only to have to report back in with them. And they close at 1:00 on weekends. Dave made it with 2 minutes to spare, the agent a tad "late" as he had been clearing the ferry passengers through, thank goodness for that.
It being Sunday, Charlestown was deserted,
with everyone (but us) at Church, which is probably just as well, we weren't quite dressed for the occasion. And speaking of Churches, this is what is left of the Cottle Church, established by estate owner and slave holder, Thomas Cottle, it was the first church that allowed "mixed colours" to worship together. It was ok to worship together but still own slaves? Sometimes I wonder...
It feels like we've come a long way, sometimes, not so much.
We visited the remains of one of the sugar mills that made this land very profitable way back when,
I was surprised to learn that it was the Sephardic (spanish) Jews that came to Nevis from Brazil that introduced their way of making sugar to the island.
You could feel the stifling heat that must have enveloped this mill, as these giant wheels turned,
producing the fine white crystals we call sugar,
and although sugar cane is still grown on the island of St Kitts, all that remains that we saw were these steam driven cane crushers and huge bowls, called coppers, which were used for boiling up the juice.
Most impressive to see was the jungle-type vegetation that has enveloped the crumbling stone ruins.
Part of me wanted to go in with a machete and see what secrets might be revealed of the peoples that lived inside.
Might this be the cotton silk tree where Horatio Nelson married Frances Nesbit ?
as evidenced by this,
the fluffy cotton balls falling from the branches, like snow on a cold winter's day, and so soft to the touch. We were told that this was actually the Kapok tree, producing a type of fibrous cotton that with its natural oil makes it waterproof, making clothes that seamen wore, as well as for comforters and pillows.
although, my favourite part of the whole day, was seeing these
not to mention the many flowers, Deadly Trumpet Angels and the gazillion mango trees. Being fruit deprived as of late, I was drooling at the thought of some fresh luscious mangos, but D.J. said
"they no ready, man, you stay here, and maybe in 6 weeks, the leaves will be hanging to the ground as the mangos they be heavy, you come back !"
Thanks to D.J.
we learned alot about the island, getting a quick feel for what was what back when, and as with all places, there's a bit of everything when one leaves the well travelled touristy road and heads to the other side of the road... there's the very luxurious estates as well, this one amazing view at the Golden Rock Plantation Inn.
to the homes that dot the roadways,
Can't finish off the day without having visited to very famous Sunshine Bar on the Beach for a Killer B,
What a view as we enjoyed the wings that we ordered along with it.
This is a place to visit again, go hiking, and explore some more, and although our hurricane season deadline has us moving on...
...our visit to Nevis be sweet, mon, no doubt about it.
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