Pictures that tell Stories. Carved in Rock. Petroglyphs.

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Deep in the mountainous island that is St John (USVI), lies Reef Bay Valley where there is a fresh water pool fed by a river called Living Gut.



If you stand here, on the edge of water, you will hear nothing, for there is an eerie silence that settles deep into your bones. Below you, the water lays undisturbed except for the dragonflys flitting above it. The heat of the sun beats its intense rays down onto your head, your arms, your eyes as you shield your gaze and look around you.

The pool of dark water with the many fallen leaves floating in it, is surrounded by large boulders. And if you wet the boulders by splashing water from this pool on them,



you may notice some symbols appear out of the rock, as if by some unseen magical, or perhaps even superstitious nature.

The group of us left Maho Bay that morning, hiking along the main road to the shortcut that would take us into the woods and up (and up and up) the hill.



It wasn't much later that we reached Centreline Road, but we were hot and we were sweaty and we were out of breath. And we hadn't even begun our actual hike yet. Not funny that.

We crossed Centreline Road and down the steps to merge with Reef Bay Trail.



The trails on St John are extremely well maintained, wide, and easy to follow with markers every so often to show the name and distances to go. This was definitely not a muddy, hold on to your hat type of Grenadian Hash.

We came across enormeous root systems of trees,



with a descriptive panel indicating to look for an image of an elephants head on the trunk somewhere,



Do you see it? We're not sure we do.

The Rum Bay Tree held petroglyghps of its own, carbon dated to today, telling of a society that leaves an imprint wherever it goes.



The airplants sprouting everywhere.



And look at this tree trunk, a surefire way to not lean against anything in fatigue, right?



The forests seemed endless and quiet,



with some scurrying of deer somewhere there, behind some trees. Perhaps you can almost even envision an ancient tribal chieftain, hiding, watching, memorizing you as you walk by? He might be tall and dark and lean, with oblique eyes, wearing earrings and nose rings and necklaces.

About halfway into the Reef Bay Trail, there is a sign that points the way to the Petroglyph Trail,



where 15 minutes later we find ourselves standing in awe.



Petroglyphs. From the Greek work "Petros" which means stone, and "glyphic" which means "to Carve".



And so these are Carvings in Rock. Made by tirelessly pecking on the rock surface using another stone. Can you even begin to guess as to how long it would take to carve a beautiful spiral shaped image into rock?? And Why?



The symbols usually represent some sort of religious meaning or acknowledge an event. Look at them again. Can you even begin to guess what meaning these images were trying to convey. What event had these people seen? What were they trying to tell of?



Incredible. Mystical. Detailed Craftsmanship in Blunt Form.

Who were these people? What had they seen? What do the symbols mean?

The descriptive panels tell that these were the Taino People, part of the Arawark Indians. They had created themselves into a developed culture with hierarchies, a language, and prayed to dieties that lived in the sky.

If you spent some time googling them, you would be quite fascinated as you might read about their culture, and it is a shame that they were totally annihilated by Mr. Columbus himself. All that we have left of them today was the story they were trying to tell us, proudly carved on those rocks. Those very rocks we were staring at in awe.

We continued our hiking taking trail after trail, sweating, clambering, enjoying (and perhaps even complaining!),



Stumbling upon old sugar mill ruins



where rum was the end result after passing through vats such as these,



that held monsters of their own on both the abandoned walls,



or hanging upside down from rafters.



Eventually after going up more hills,



and down to the beaches,



we reached Cinnamon Bay Campground.

Our legs were shaking. Our feet were sore. The trackers our friends wore calculated we'd walked an impressive 11 miles. Or 18 km's. We'd seen stories left behind of ancient peoples, and we sat there sipping our beer, where we noticed that someone had left behind something,



that the wild creatures of the forest were quickly laying claim to. Would this speak to future generations about our world of today? We brought it to the front desk in case the owner might come back.

And I will sign off this technology and leave you with our story. In plain word form. With Actual Time Photos.



That tell tales of the World we Live In and the Trails we explored today. And all of it more Magical and Mystical than we can even begin to Guess At.