We have somehow always managed to by-pass St Croix (one of the U.S.V. Islands) as we've explored the Caribbean these last three years.

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As always the weather was pointing the way. We were off to St Croix for a wee little while.



And not only was the weather pointing us to where we wanted to go, but one of the Must-Do's on the list of 59 Things To Do when in St Croix before you Die or Have Supper, whichever comes first, is to be here for Art Thursday.



Art Thursday happens in C'Stead, on the Third Thursday of every month (from November through June), and the day of our crossing to St-Croix was Thursday so we barely had hours to spare.

The crossing was a fast spirited and comfortable sail and we were here within a few hours, anchored in the choppy and bouncy waters of Gallows Bay.

The first order of business was to check in (which in hindsight and with more time, would have been smarter to do back in the USVI, then only requiring a simple phone call on our part). Oh well.

Dave called Customs. The Agent was at lunch. Took our information and said, "call back in an hour or so. When the Agent comes back from lunch."

So we had lunch. And 59 minutes later Dave was picking up the phone, looking for the number.

"Why don't you wait a few more minutes" I smiled, "Island time and all?"

So we did. Had a wee bit of a siesta. And then Dave called back.
"Agent is still not back, Sir" he said to Dave. "Chill out. No worries man, have a beer!"

And I quote. So we did, and laughed about it all.

Our friends Sunny and John (SV Notre Vie) were ready so we headed ashore to explore a bit.



Would you believe that this was one of the islands that Mr C.C. visited, and was attacked by the Kalinago indians way back in 1493? In the years after that, the island was controlled by a variety of nations, among them Spain, Netherlands, Great Britain, France, Denmark and finally it was sold to the United States.

We immediately fell in love with the relaxed and friendly vibe we found here,



not to mention the views,



and the architecture.



First order of business was to check in at the Yellow Fort, which is where you need to go to request a permit to visit Buck Island. Bring your ID and boat papers and while the permit is free, it can take UP TO 5 business days for administrative processing.

Limited number of seating perhaps?



The streets are quaint and the locals (called Crucians),



not quite sure about this Art Thursday deal. So we stopped to have an arrival beer at the local IPA brewery.

And then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening walking through the various artsy shops in town, chatting with the artisans, admiring the views, and having a fantastic time. Every single shop has a bottle of bubbly and some snacks and you can meander, and linger and wander for as long as you like, while listening to the sounds of jazz wafting through the windows from the street.

One day we rented a car. And visited the Cruzan Rum Distillery,



where the hefty price of admission allows you a guided tour of the facilities,



and some pretty aromatic smells. "No touching please !"



Of course, upon return, one can buy bottles upon bottles, or cases upon cases of Rum, and the price of admission allows you as many rum punches as you want.

John had drawn the short straw and was driving (which was a GodSend asgiven his British heritage he was used to the left side of driving life), we were doing our best to be supportive in his endeavour to limit our rum intake.

We arrived too late for the guided tour of this estate,



but were told we could walk around as long as we didn't touch anything.



All across the island we noticed the now empty fields of what would once have been extensive plantation development, housing many sugar mill ruins, and wondered about life way back then.

Driving along the roads that made no sense, we were impressed by the vegetation, unimpressed by our lack of direction, until in the midst of the rainforest, we finally spotted this sign.



We stopped, parked the car, and entered the thatched roof jungle bar, the silence around us deafening, and had ourselves an ice cold refreshment. And asked about the Drinking Pigs.

Legend has it that the farming family who lived here owned some pigs. And one day someone walked by one of the pigs, with a beer in his hand. The pig grabbed it, guzzled it, and the rest is, as they say, History. A star was born, and sadly, later died, possibly due to alcoholic liver failure.

This is Gem.



Today you can buy her a can of (non-alcoholic) beer, hold it up a certain way (watch your fingers) and she somehow manages to rise all 600 pounds of her pink hairy self up on the wooden enclosure of a fence, grab it in her large yellowed canine teeth, shake her head once or twice as she watches you with large brown eyes, pierce the can which allows the now frothy cold contents to spew their way down her throat, squeezes the tin flat with her jowels once she's drank all the contents, and spits the the flattened piece of tin out on the ground.

And a day on St Croix wouldn't be complete without some live action whoops and hollers while naming our very own Crabs in a Bucket.



We bet and we lost. And laughed till even the Crabs Ran Away.

The anchorage being rolly and bouncy had us moving South to F'stead looking for a good nights sleep. A charming and relaxed and lovely town that comes to life only when the cruise ship comes in.



We hear the best snorkelling is right under the cruise ship pier, but with the cruise ship docked alongside we may have posed as a high level security risk if we opted to snorkel under her bow.

So we opted for a walk through town instead. And got to visit with Eric and Lynne of SV Amarula, and walk along the pastoral lands that embraced the mahogany trees that lined Mahogany Road and some amazing Victorian style abodes.

A local lady named Elizabeth, who is the artsy hand behind many of the murals that line the streets of the town, lives in a blue-roofed house on the beach. And has built a sculpture garden of sorts to explore in the waters off her beach, and rumour has it she has a pet turtle, that she feeds a tin of sardines to. Sure enough the turtle came by to say hello, and Dave managed to capture this National Geographic photographic moment.



The sculpture garden interesting,



and the Thinking Man continues to Thinketh.



Sunny and John called us. They'd received a text informing them that they had been granted access to Buck Island Reef National Monument. They had applied 30 minutes after us. As of today, we are still waiting for our permit.

Buck Island is a small 176 acre island just by C'stead and is stupendously beautiful.



A hike around the island was gorgeous,



the thorny bits always out to bit a piece of skin off,



and the Cactii sprouting bits of soft cotton.



Don't touch those either, thorny bits protrude from the cotton !!



We cannot even begin to describe to you the idyllic beauty of this place. The blues of the sky, the greens of the vegetation as we climbed up,



with the signs telling us where to go,



until a dead end had us scrambling along the jagged edges of black volcanic rock to reach our little piece of home on the beach.



Where we watched the sun set,



in a blaze of colours that lit our souls on Fire with Memories of our wonderful time on St Croix.