My Tropical Birthday Vacation!!! - U.S.V.I Part 3

January 20, 2013
Happy birthday to me!!! When I get up in the middle of the night, Nick sings me Happy Birthday. :)

In the morning, a parade of soldier crabs traverses our campsite; you have to watch where you step. I think they are returning to the forest after their nightly foray to the ocean. 

It’s a short drive to Francis Bay, where we snorkel in the turquoise blue water with a blessedly mild-temperature. I fully expect to see turtles, based on someone else’s experience, but not a one. A small disappointment. The coral is mostly dead, but there are some large and small schools of fish swimming about, and some colorful, tropical fish, too. 

East End is just that - an end. No beach, no bay, no nothing except private drives and property, so we turn around. We keep driving across the island, down any road that’s paved. Eventually, we end up in Cruz Bay, and we decide to stop for lunch. Next up, is a short, downhill hike to Honeymoon Beach from the Biosphere Reserve parking lot, but we don’t stay long. And it’s a good thing because it starts to rain as we trek uphill back to the car. A small disappointment. We wait out the rain in our car and then spend some time laying out on Hawksnest Beach. It’s more cloud bathing than sunbathing. Today, the weather has been more of a dreary, drippy, overcast day, than a sunny, tropical beach vacation day. A small disappointment. We eventually give up and return to Cinnamon Bay, where we don’t find any sun, either. So, we give up on beach time and decide to just go start drinking instead.

I’ve come to a realization: Not only do I extremely dislike cold showers, but I don’t like tolerating them either. I would rather skip showering, but that’s hard to do when your hair is full of salt and sand. On my next beach vacation, I think I might splurge for an actual hotel room, so cleaning off is refreshing, rather than torture. But I survive, and it does feel good being clean.

The restaurant I chose for my birthday dinner is mysteriously closed (it’s normally open on Sunday). A small disappointment. There are a few other restaurants nearby, but nothing that captures our eye tonight. The only other option is to drive over to Cruz Bay, on the opposite end of the island. We take Centerline Road, which runs down the center of the island. We’re about a mile away from town when we turn a corner and traffic comes to an abrupt stop. There is a long line of red brake lights glaring back at us. We never get close enough to see what happened, but after about ten minutes, cars begin turning around, and we do the same. I guess the roads are so narrow that if an accident happens, it become impassable. So, we have to drive all the back to Coral Harbor where we can cross over to North Shore Road, which runs along the coast. And then we still have to drive the entire length of this road before we reach Cruz Bay. Yet another disappointment. My stomach is growling and grumbling and voicing all sorts of dissent by the time we park almost two hours later.

It’s during this third cross-island commute of the evening when all the little disappointments of the day swirl unbidden in my mind. The bay devoid of turtles and the dead coral. The overcast weather and rain. The closed restaurant. Too much time in a car. And it hits me: oh my god, I have the TRAVELER’S CURSE. Basically, the more you see and experience as you travel, the more you discover beautiful little bits and pieces of our world. The problem is, they’re never all in one place. So I find myself, on this beautiful tropical island vacation that every single person I know is envious of, comparing the dead reefs to the vibrant coral I snorkeled through in Hawaii; the yucky weather to the warm, sunny beach days I experienced in Costa Rica; the dingy cot and frigid shower to the big, comfy bed and warm shower I could escape to at the all-inclusive resort in Cancun. I’ve had so many incredible experiences that I can not simply enjoy a new one without comparison. Hmmm, this will have to change...

Dinner is lovely (and the two drinks definitely perk up my dampened spirits). As a birthday treat, I get to order my own dessert! Yay!! (Of course, I eat some of Nick’s, too.)

Sometime during the middle of the night, my eyes open and I’m wide awake. I silently step barefoot to the beach and sit in the sand, a starry sky above and the high tide almost reaching my toes. And I discover that I’m ready to cultivate an inner calm, a state without positive or negative. I’ve learned this, but I’ve resisted in the past, because I didn’t want to give up happiness. Who wants to let go of that high? But now I realize that happiness is a dangerous emotion. It’s difficult to perpetually sustain because if I honestly judge my circumstances and experiences, they don’t always evoke happiness. And when the door is open for this positive emotion, it provides space for negative emotions to fill the void when it’s missing. They are yin and yang; one can’t exist without the other. I wouldn’t understand the pleasure of happy if I never experienced the devastation of sad. Happiness is based on judgement, altered by expectations, founded on preconceived notions. I don’t want to live in a world of judgement and expectations anymore, where I can be disappointed as easily as I can be elated. Instead, I will strive to create an inner calm, a contentment with life, an acceptance of being as I am and as things are at that moment. I am grateful to this journey, to the cloudy skies, for helping me learn this lesson.

My Tropical Birthday Vacation!!! - U.S.V.I Part 2

January 19, 2013
We’ve arrived! The weather is warm and tropical, and the easy sound of an island accent floats in the air. The man working the taxi area officiously takes charge, informing me that there’s not enough time to catch the ferry from Charlotte Amalie, so we’ll have to go to Red Hook. Taxis are done differently here; instead of a meter charging you for the duration of the ride, each passenger pays a set price depending on your destination. So, taxis accommodate eight to ten passengers going to the same destination or somewhere along the way.

Cruzy Bay, the main port of St. John, is filled with shops and restaurants, but it’s a compact town and easily walkable. After picking up some food and drinks (we plan to fix our own breakfasts and lunches to save money as well as prevent interruption of our beach time) at the Dolphin Mart, we pick up our rented Ford Focus. It’s easy to drive around the island, since there are only a few main roads, as long as you remember to stay on the left side of the road. In case you forget, they’ve considerately painted arrows on the street every so often to help you remember.


And I would definitely recommend a car on this island; while not large, the towns and bays and beaches are separated by steep, twisty roads that makes everything not as close as it would seem if you’re just looking at the map. There are taxi services available, but if you are planning to spend more than a day here, I think you’ll appreciate the flexibility of deciding where and when you want to go.

Along the way to Cinnamon Bay Campground, we stop to walk the short distance to the top of Peace Hill, where we’re treated to a beautiful view, and to check out Hawksnest Bay, where we’re treated to a beautiful beach (you’ll begin to notice a theme soon, if you haven’t already). 

The amazing view from Peace Hill

Hawksnest Beach

We’ve rented a furnished tent for three nights (campsite # 21), and we’re delighted to discover its close proximity to the beach, a short path maybe twenty yards long. The tent is sparse, but it has the necessities: four cots (our biggest surprise, we laughed when we realized we wouldn’t be sharing a bed), a bin and a cooler for food storage, and sheets/towels. Outside, there is a picnic table, and a propane grill with a lantern attached. Cinnamon Bay has it’s own beautiful beach, of course, so we doze in the sun for an hour or so, feeling a little tired from our lack of sleep the night before.

It’s late afternoon when we drive out toward the east side of the island (Cruz Bay is on the western point). The road is crazy steep with hairpin turns and barely enough space for two vehicles to pass each other. Feral donkeys are moseying around and munching grass on the side of the road. We take the road to Salt Pond Bay and watch the sunset from the empty beach, the silhouettes of moored sailboats swaying in the sea, black against an orange horizon. 

Driving back to Cinnamon Bay later that night, the radio plays the electric slide, reggae-style. Laying on my tiny cot, the coqui frogs are singing in full force, and that’s when I realize that they’re actually singing, “coo-kie, coo-kie, coo-kie.” I  must have been one of these frogs in a past life; it explains why I like cookies so much. Another voice adds to the cacophony; it makes me think of a woodpecker banging against a steel drum - tink tink tink tink. The crashing waves lull me to sleep, but every now and again I’m jolted by a thunderous, booming wave.