We enjoyed Nevis, but one of the highlights of the year was our opportunity to sail to Chris’ namesake island, St. Christopher, also (properly) known as St. Kitts (just don’t know it as St. Kitts in front of Chris!)  We arrived in sparkling sunshine in the secluded harbor of White House Bay on the south side of the island.  It was a lovely day for snorkeling the wreck, swimming, and taking it easy (after schoolwork, of course).  Porter worked on learning the bowline knot and I played with some extra line, making decorative knotwork.  It was a quiet day, with just the five of us together.  As much as we love being “out there” and experiencing all that this world has to offer, we know that quiet days like this are what our kids will remember when they think about how much we love them.  That and the fact that their dad squirts Redi-Whip directly into their mouths from time to time!

The next morning was overcast and drizzling.  We didn’t quite know what to do as the weather has been picture perfect since the day we left North Carolina last November!  We moved the boat to Port Zante, a small marina in Basse Terre.  The dockmaster hooked us up with Wayne, who came down to the boat and took our 60 pounds of laundry.  It had been awhile!  We were happy with the $1.50/pound rate.

Chris and I left the kids on the boat and headed to customs to check in.  Afterwards, we went through the ridiculous cruiseship shopping area, looking for a t-shirt that said “St. Christopher”.  They don’t make them.  All they have is “St. Kitts”.  I had one unhappy camper on my hands for the rest of the day.

On the way back to the boat, we met “Up 2 De Time” and scored us a tour guide for the next day.  Still deciding what I’m going to paint across my windshield when we get home…

 

That night, we took a taxi to the hotel area to check out the beach and to have dinner at Mr. X’s Shiggidy Shack.  We didn’t see my friend the ambassador, but we had a nice dinner and met a great family from New Jersey.  They were on vacation and we enjoyed exchanging stories about our journey and their many trips to St. Kitts.

The next day, we took a leisurely drive around the whole island and enjoyed the many different areas.  This first picture is not very clear, but we were not able to stop due to traffic.  This public square and park was once the slave market of St. Kitts.  It was horrible to drive by it.  I could feel the pain in the ground.  I could see it in the air above the park.  There were trees there that were definitely old enough to have seen the horrors that took place there.  I am reading a book called A Concise History of the Caribbean.  First of all, it is NOT concise.  But more to the point, it speaks at length of the slave trade in the Caribbean and it was just as active as that in the colonies.

Here is the rest of our tour, in pictures:

We pass a tree that was FULL of these graceful birds.  I caught this one as he prepared to take off.

This is the government housing.  Our tourguide says that the incumbent politicians build these houses right before election time, in order to win voters.  I think they are cute.  Can’t beat the view!

Garbage is burned in the Caribbean.  Back home, a sight like this would be cause for alarm.  We just drove right on by.  We are used to seeing smoke curling up through the sky from the hills above the towns.

We stop at a botanical garden but it was closed.  This bush stood next to the main gate.  Reese looks so small next to it!

A pretty stone wall surrounds the garden.  Wish we could have seen the inside.

We drive through a small village on the west coast and find that it is the site of the earliest settlers on St. Kitts.

Just up the street are a group of rocks with petroglyphs by the Amerindians.  (The outline of the petroglyphs is filled in with paint.)  St. Kitts was previously known as Liamigua, The Fertile Island.  It has been inhabited since 2500 B.C.  In 1623, Carib Indian Chief Tegreman welcomed the first European settlers on Old Road.On the lighter side, a few locals with a good sense of humor made this “Rum Tree” for tourists who ask how rum is made.

We visit the remains of an old sugar plantation.  As usual, a rum distillery was located right next to it.  These were the most intact remains we have seen. 

Porter looks tiny next to these Tarzan vines!

This 400 year old Saman tree rooted itself in our hearts.  It is Nature’s majesty at its best.  You can’t help but wonder what this tree has born witness to in it’s lifetime.

…like little boys climbing on its branches!

Porter looks at the sky through the treetop branches.

Stone steps.  Strewn with flower petals.  Pink flower petals.  And an ivy covered wall.  Just kill me now.

My big guy….

And my little guy.

The iconic Caribbean colors and architecture on display at Caribelle Batik, a traditional batik studio.

Newly dyed batiks drying in the breeze.

The stunning gardens near the Saman tree.

Are you up for listening to me talk about yet another Caribbean fort?  The Brimstone Hill Fort on St. Kitts was the biggest and most impressive one we have visited.  We were there for hours and didn’t scratch the surface of the extensive grounds.

Ruins of the soldier’s quarters.

Driving through the wet, winding roads of the countryside.  Is it lunch time yet?

We love roadside restaurants.  Coopers was no exception.  Falling apart building, flies everywhere, an actual outhouse for a bathroom, and incredibly slow service.  All made up for by the incredible food, cooked with fresh natural ingredients and recipes handed down generation to generation by people who love to cook good food.

Is it bad if your kids just sidle up to a bar and order themselves a drink?  Have we been in the Caribbean too long???

Happy to be here.  Right here.  Right now.  Ram Dass would be proud of me.

Here is our friend making Conkies for Easter weekend.  Conkies bear a large similarity to tamales, though instead of having filling rolled inside the dough, the cornmeal is mixed together with grated sweet potato, pumpkin, coconut, and a few other ingredients.  After wrapping the dough in banana leaves, they’re boiled rather than steamed.  We hoped to try some before we left, but we never found them.  I’m going to try making them myself.

A couple of goats check us out as we drive by.

Last stop: the Black Rocks.  Pretty spectacular views.

St. Christopher is an amazing island, rich in history.  There is a lot to do and it is close to Nevis.  We would visit again and spend more time.  But Anguilla was waiting for us, along with the scare of my life…

We got to Nevis after a 50 mile trip from Antigua.  Along the way, Chris caught a barracuda and a skip jack.  We threw both back.  We took a mooring off of Sunshine’s Beach Bar (home of the Killer Bee) and wondered how loud the Saturday night music was going to be (very).  I took the dinghy into town to check in at Customs and Immigration, but they had just closed.  Darn.  And the next day was Sunday.  Who knew if anyone would show up on a Sunday?  I met a taxi driver named John, who offered to give us a tour of the island the next day.  We agreed to meet at 1000 after we cleared Customs.  Hopefully.  I went back to the boat and we Quarantined ourselves until the next morning.

We arrived at Customs on Sunday morning and weren’t surprised to see that the door was locked.  I poked my head into the Immigration office and asked what I should do.  The officer told me that Customs always showed up late on Sundays and suggested I come back later.  I explained that we were leaving on a tour at 10 and would be gone most of the day.  We would not be able to return to Customs before they closed at 12.  She wrote down my name and told me it was fine.  I could come back on Monday morning.  Um.  Okay…

We got into John’s van (feeling like total rogues for driving around the country willy nilly without being documented) and we toured Charlestown, the biggest village on the island.  John pointed out various points of interest: old churches, the first town hall, a statue of some important leader, etc, etc.  Then he pulled to the side of the road to allow traffic to pass by and pointed to a small cemetery.  “That’s the Jewish Cemetery.”  “Really?” I exclaimed.  In all our historic tours of the Caribbean, we had yet to encounter any cultural references to Judaism.  I asked him to wait while I got out to take a look.  He seemed surprised.  I am guessing that most tourists just nod when he passes this point of interest.  I entered quietly and read the sign that explained the short period of time in history when Jews came from Brazil to introduce the technology of sugar production.  It is a Jewish custom to place a stone on the grave when visiting a cemetery, so I chose a smooth one to lay down.  As I leaned over, I thought about the brief period of history when Jews lived on this island and wondered if some of their descendents are still living there. (In case you’re wondering, I’m not Jewish, but most of my friends are.  If there was a Jewish-Pride Parade in NYC, I’d be the shiksa cheering on the sidelines.)

Our next stop was the hot springs.  We have visited a few hot springs in the Caribbean.  The ones in Nevis are conveniently located in town, providing easy access to visitors and residents.  We met some Nevitians who explained that they try to bathe in the waters once a day.  The government maintains the modern tile hot tub that we were in.  We stripped down to our bathing suits and stepped into the water.  My first foot was not even one inch into the water before I yanked it out and yelped.  It was HOT!  The other springs we had experienced were pleasantly warm, but none were even as hot as our hot tub at home.  We keep that at 102 degrees Fahrenheit.  These springs were 105 degrees.  Wow.  Chris went right in.  His shoulder and back bother him so much that he was willing to deal with any amount of heat to make it feel better.  I made my way in very slowly and still only made it up to my waist.  Before leaving, we checked out the other areas of the springs, which have been left in their natural state.  These natural pools are used by locals as well.

We drove out of town and stopped briefly to see St. John’s Fig Tree Church, where Lord Nelson married Francis Nisbet.  If you don’t know who these folks are, Lord Nelson was like the George Washington of the Caribbean.  Every place you go in the Windward Islands claims stake in being an important place where Lord Nelson “slept”, “visited”, “got married”, “ate his first bagel”, you name it.  The Hermitage Greathouse was next on our tour.  Built in 1660, it is one of three remaining earthfast houses left in North America (the other two are in Virginia).  The Hermitage is operated as a hotel and restaurant today, but visitors are welcome to walk through the house and view the gardens.  We admired the woodwork in the house, especially the ceiling.  Chris and Bryson lifted the heavy wood beams that were used in construction.

It ain’t a proper island tour unless the conwaysailors are hiking miserably for at least an hour, so John dropped us off at the bottom of the trail to The Source and we picked up a (badly) hand drawn trailmap at the office of The Golden Rock Plantation.  We admired the pretty buildings, gorgeous landscaping, and the dinner table set under a gazebo.  We reserved the table for lunch and figured it would give us the inspiration we needed to hike this challenging trail.

We should have stopped before we began.  It took us five minutes to get out of the parking lot because the map was all wrong.  I hoped it would get more accurate after we got underway.  I really like maps, so it gets me kind of irritated when they are done incorrectly.  We trudged up a dirt road, passing houses once in a while.  I was confused as to why someone would build a house here.  We were half way up a steep hill, with no agriculture nearby.  The houses were small, dilapidated, and told us of the poverty that must reside within.  It was sobering and sad.

 

 

We finally hit the beginning of the trail and enjoyed the vines hanging down from the trees and the various types of plants along the way.  We noticed that a pipe had been laid under the trail and realized that it must have been laid near the watersource at the top of the mountain and piped down the hill for the local homes to use for fresh water.  Let me tell you something.  It was not an easy job to lay down this pipe.  The trail went on and on.  It was quite steep at points and curved and turned along the hill.  I couldn’t believe how much work it must have been to complete this project.

Finally, Porter, Reese, and I had had enough of the heat and stopped dead in our tracks.  We refused to walk even one more step up the hill.  Bryson and Chris continued onwards in an attempt to reach “The Source.”  According to the map, it was just around the bend.  I had long since lost faith in the map.  Thirty minutes later, they returned.  They found a nice overlook, but no water.  Our return trip was much easier, knowing that lunch was waiting for us at our special table.

 

Our lunch more than made up for our continued forays into hiking.  We had fresh salads, creamy squash soup, and the kids had well-made burgers.  We couldn’t stop remarking on our beautiful surroundings.  A koi pond was constructed around the stone walkway that led to the gazebo.  We looked out over the hillsides, lush with palm trees.

After lunch, we hit the pool.  I swam 50 laps and then chillaxed on a lounge chair while the kids made friends and splashed around.  It was lovely.  We dragged ourselves to the parking lot to meet John for our ride back to the harbor.  On the way, John offered to lend me his bicycle the next day.  I took him up on it, but first we really had to check into the country!

We checked in the next morning and had to explain several times why we had been in Nevis so long without clearing in.  It all went well so we walked down the street and found a bunch of fire trucks and a crowd.  Instead of a fire, it was the annual fireman’s contest.  Firemen from Nevis and St. Kitts get together to go head to head doing all kinds of fireman things, like uncoiling hoses, putting on their gear, and dragging a person to safety.  It was fun to watch except that I was nearly melting in my skin just contemplating putting on full fireman gear in the Caribbean heat.

Chris took the kids off to the museums and the book store while I hit the road for my cycling tour.  Could I circumnavigate the island?  I set out on John’s mountain bike.  You can take a look at the map of Nevis if you want.  I will agree with you that it doesn’t look all that big.  I got from Charleston to the northern point of the island and knew I had pushed it to my limit.  Even if I turned back now, I would probably suffer the rest of the day with heat exhaustion.  Man I miss my super-fast road bike.  I probably could have done it if I had my bike, bike shorts (!!!), and some company.  Even so, I really enjoyed being on a bike again.  I loved the breeze in my face, the views of the sea, and that perfect pace that allows you to see the world around you with more detail than driving and yet covering more ground than walking or running.

On the way back, I stopped at Sunshine’s.  I walked out to the beach to look at Patronus.  Our dinghy wasn’t tied to the back, so I knew the kids and Chris were still in town.  I sat at the bar and had a Coke with Sunshine himself.  When my lunch arrived, he insisted that I join him at what he called the VIP table.  We sat down together and he introduced me to His Excellency Delano Frank Bart, the United Nations Ambassador for St. Kitts-Nevis.  I thought about my sweaty, hot face, which was probably purple from my cold-loving Norwegian complexion.  Bart was gracious about it and asked me about my ride.  After explaining about our trip, I peppered him with questions about his job.  This was the second diplomat I have met, the other being Mr. Phillip Scanlon, the Australian Consul-General to New York, whom I met in Boothbay Harbor, Maine at the Edelson party.  I really enjoyed talking to Bart and hoped we would bump into him again at his favorite beach bar in St. Kitts later that week.

Unfortunately, we learned later that day that John, our tour guide, is a total con man.  Someone we trust that night told us that his claim that he has just been diagnosed with cancer is bogus and just an attempt to get us to give him money.  He had lamented half the day about the cost of his treatment and how he had spent all his savings on his wife’s cancer treatment the year before.  It was a let down to know that we had been duped.  I prefer to live my life with an open, trusting heart.  After a few minutes of frustration, I decided that he must be doing the best he can with the wisdom and resources that he has.  We did give him a nice tip for the tour, but we decided not to pay him for the bike rental as a way to even it out.  I hope that he finds a happier way to live.  In the meantime, find a different tourguide if you go to Nevis!

Back at the boat, we went in to enjoy the beach and met Kim and Lonne Salling from s/v Moana.  The Sallings and their three children are from Denmark.  We hit it off with them immediately and spent the rest of the day together, moving over to Sunshine’s for drinks on the beach as soon as it was late enough to make it acceptable.  The other three adults enjoyed Killer Bee’s, Sunshine’s signature drink.

The four of us talked about cruising, boatschooling, children, and seeing the world.  The kids dug in the sand and splashed in the water.  It was almost scary how strongly I felt for this family after just a few hours.  Maybe it was the Scandinavian thing.  We had dinner together at Sunshine’s, not wanting the day to end.  We were leaving for St. Kitts in the morning and Moana was heading for Antigua.  We would not cross paths again, but it did not stop us from enjoying every moment together.

The next morning, we dinghied over to s/v Moana for a last goodbye and were gifted with clothing for Reese, movies, books, and a special letter from their daughter.  We waved goodbye, wishing them fair winds back to Denmark.  We will not soon forget the Sallings.

As we readied to leave the harbor, Chris’ flip flop flipped into the water, so I flopped in to rescue it.  Back on board, it we continued on with our daily fun:

Next up, the island they named after our captain….

 

March 15^th, 0400

On night watch.  Still sad about leaving Dominica.  We are on our way to Antigua.  We pass Deshies, Guadeloupe and I consider popping in for some crepes (hey.  It’s not easy getting yourself to chuckle out loud at 4am).  Just the thought of crazy Guadeloupe brought a smile to my face and helped me get through the long night on watch.  Apparently, enough time has lapsed to make our mis-adventures in the French islands seem funny.  At 0550, Chris came on deck and we changed watches.  Chris sailed us into Falmouth Harbor 5 hours later and found a secure spot to anchor off the beach.

Falmouth is so pretty.  As a bonus, it is full of gorgeous classic boats and megayachts.  The first boat we saw was Bryson Hall’s old boat, s/v Abracadabra.  We raced on this boat back in the 90’s.  We had a particularly rowdy time doing the Nantucket Gold Regatta with my friend Stephanie Altman, to whom we introduced racing, mudslides, and “afterparties”.

The next boat we saw was the world’s 15^th largest yacht, “A”, a 390’ 5” boat owned by Russian billionaire Andrey Melnichenko.  The hull design is unique.  We noticed the retractable surveillance cameras and wondered how much just that one feature must have cost.

Around the corner sat beautiful Talitha, a 1929-built 247’ sailing yacht.  It sits at spot 94 on the Top 100 list, but must have been pretty high up there for a long time!  We have now seen 6 of the top 100 largest yachts.  Read more about them on: http://www.boatinternational.com/yachts/the-register/top-100-largest-yachts/.

We headed to the dinghy dock and walked down the road to nearby English Harbor.  I silently hoped that the bakery I had read about would be open.  And the ice cream place.  We checked into the country at Customs and Immigration and I got in a Mean Stare Fight with some rude French women who insisted on standing 3 centimeters from me while I entered our information on the computer.  I’m thinking about getting a t-shirt that says, “I Love Crepes”.  Just to confuse them.

The English Harbor waterfront is seeped in history.  This harbor was a major port for hundreds of years and was carefully reconstructed and restored to preserve its memory for future generations.  The museum near the docks displayed artifacts found in the area, furniture, paintings, and displays that explained the roles of big shots such as Lord Nelson and other famous captains, admirals, and leaders during the time of England’s naval dominance.  We got our fill of history and then wandered around, looking at all the restored sail lofts, homes, and shops.

 

On the way back to the boat, we found the local produce lady on the side of the road.  I almost screamed with delight when I saw a mound of gorgeous avocados.  “Take a picture!  Take a picture!” I screamed automatically.  Then I realized we could actually buy some.  Happy Conways!  They still aren’t in season, but we are north enough in the Caribbean to get produce that has been shipped in from elsewhere.  Our days of eating completely local were over, but we were going to have guacamole that night, so it was kinda hard to care!

We took the kayak and paddleboard into the beach and enjoyed playing and swimming all afternoon.  We were thrilled when we learned that our Salty Dawg friends on s/v Evenstar and s/v Troubador were in the harbor.  The kids were excited to play with their friend Danielle and the next day we baked muffins for breakfast, they did school and we had more beachtime.

 

 

 

I had threatened the kids that I was going to throw away their lifetime supply of Bazooka bubblegum if they didn’t start eating it.  It was taking up too much space in our snack cabinet and wasn’t weathering the salt air well.  Reese hid herself behind a blockade and surprised us with a glitter-lined contest board, challenging us to eat as much gum as possible for the week, with bonuses for the biggest bubbles blown.  Chris won in all categories!

I had come down with whatever strange virus had caused Chris to miss Carnival back in Carriacou.  I was utterly exhausted and missed big chunks of our time in Antigua.  I did manage to pull it together so that we could rent a car and take our own driving tour of the island.  First we went zip-lining, for we had found a place that would allow Porter to try it out.  After the first zipline, which sent screams through the tops of the trees, he decided he loved it.

 

Next, we drove through the south part of the island, enjoying the views of the turquoise waters.  I thought to myself how funny it was that we had rented a car to see the island and we were drawn to the coast, enjoying most the views of the water upon which we live.  I laughed as I thought, “We could have just sat on the boat and looked at the water!”

 

Driving on the left side of the road, on the right side of the car is hard enough. I kept panicking when I saw this sign, thinking I’m NOT supposed to be doing “something”. Turns out it means “No Stopping”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We headed on to the town of St. Johns, stopped at a field to watch a cricket game, and then traversed the country to see Devil’s Bridge.  This forlorn piece of land juts out into the ocean.  It is pummeled by the waves day in and day out, as it has been for thousands of years.  The water, in its strength and persistence, has carved the land into jagged edges.  Blow holes shoot water skyward when the swiss cheese rocks create a suction from the waves crashing into the shore.

We all loved the raw, powerful beauty of this spot and it was worth the long drive to get there.  Once again, I smiled as I looked at the map and realized the transformation that had occurred.  An hour before, Devil’s Bridge was a just a little red star on the map of Antigua; a line in the cruiser’s guide under “Attractions”.  Now it was a real place.  A real image was burned in my mind, complete with sounds and smells and memories.  When I look at a map of Antigua now, I recall that place in my memory, but I also stop to think about how that place is still there, with the waves pounding away at the shore.  Right now.

 

 

 

After lunch at La Tortaruga, on a resort-filled beach, we headed back to the boat to shower and dress in our St. Patrick’s Day finest.  We met Evenstar and Troubador and drove our rented car up the hill to Shirley Heights.  We were all keen to check off another “Must-Do” from our cruiser’s guide.  Every Sunday, tourists, locals, and cruisers meet at the top of this hill for socializing, steel pan music, and a great barbecue.  The views and sunset rival that of Key West.  It is truly spectacular to watch the sun disappear beyond the harbor, town, and the sea.

We listened to the best steel pan music I had ever heard.  The kids ran to a wide green field and found a gang of instant friends.  We sat at the edge of the cliff and enjoyed a cocktail as the sun began its slow descent.  Time slowed down in order to allow us all to soak it in.  Not a bad way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.  After the sunset, we mosied over to the barbecue and got plates of ribs, burgers, salad, and rice n beans.

Usually, when I am in a big crowd, I get a little overwhelmed, especially if food is involved.  “Where are the kids?  Did everyone get food?  Where are we all going to to sit?  Oh man, there’s no place for the five of us to sit.  Now what are we going to do?  I’m NOT eating standing up.”  I’m not sure where this little quirk comes from, but it’s pretty annoying.  I noticed that feeling coming up, and decided that the night was just too lovely to get all bunched up inside.  I decided to think positively and just go with whatever happened.

We couldn’t find seats to sit with Troubador and Evenstar, but we did find a picnic table with exactly five seats available.   I breathed a sigh of relief.  The folks at our table ended up being soooo lovely and we enjoyed eating together and chatting.  Within minutes, we discovered that Erica, in addition to having a totally awesome name, is also from New Jersey, and her husband is from Long Island, like me.  Erica grew up about 7 minutes away from our house.  Small world!  The rest of the night was fun and relaxed, with the kids playing and the adults conversing about future sailing plans.

 

The next day, s/v Cascadura sailed into town and we had a great time with them, going for ice cream and getting dragged behind their dinghy on a tube.

We moved to Jolly Harbor for a night so that we could hit the good grocery store and check out of the country.  The kids did schoolwork while I rested.  I still wasn’t feeling well.  Chris surprised us with steak for dinner.

 

Deep Bay was like going on vacation for a few days (believe it or not, we work really hard to make this lifestyle work. I leave out a lot of the details about that!).  We pulled into this picture perfect, quiet little harbor, making sure not to sail into the shipwreck that slightly sticks out of the water in the center of the harbor entrance.  We anchored and took a deep breath as we looked around.  A fort lay on the high hill to the left.  Giorgio Armani’s beautiful home sat on the well-groomed hill to the right.  A white sand beach stretched out in between the two hills.  This was going to be a lovely place to stay…

We snorkeled on the wreck of the Andes, dinghied to the beach, and climbed up to the fort.  That night, we had tacos and celebrated Bryson’s half birthday with a half of a cake and singing the first syllable of each word in Happy Birthday To You.

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, we raced through schoolwork.  I swam from the boat to the beach and back.  It was a long way in and I felt great completing such a big swim.  Chris did some electrical work and topped off the oil in the water pump.  We packed a picnic lunch and hiked back up to the fort to enjoy our food while looking over the bay.  The kids raced around and then we did some daring yoga poses on the edge of the cliff to appreciate our sense of balance.

 

 

Back at the beach, Chris and I parked ourselves on beach chairs with our books, a rarity while cruising with kids.  We played music on our portable speakers.  The kids built sand houses, complete with shell furniture.  Porter practiced his swimming.  We watched the Swedish family down the beach and I contemplated walking up to them to practice my Swedish.  But I was just too comfortable to move and my book was out of control good (At Home, Bill Bryson).

We had experienced it all in Antigua: historic seaports, pristine beaches, an awesome party, and spending time with friends.  Our time in Falmouth was busy, interesting, and vibrant.  Our time in Deep Bay was relaxing, serene, and full of beauty.  In both places, we experienced what Antigua had to offer together-enjoying each other’s company, laughing together, and talking about all the new things we were experiencing.  Everything about our time in Antigua symbolized the reasons we embarked upon this journey.