Day 23: I screw up my title by being interesting.

Today's post was going to be titled "This is the way the journey actually ends, not with a bang but with a whimper" because the plan was to go to the beach and do nothing all day.

So I got up (with the sun, one of the perks of sleeping on the balcony) and went back to sleep. Eventually I got up for really, updated my blog, bought an airline ticket and after a while set off for the beach. I swung through the grocery store for breakfast and lunch (a bag of chips that tasted a bit stale.... because they were 6 months past "use by."

I walked to the bus stop, got ADD, and then walked to Condado, the beach for the hotel district. I saw a interesting looking fort that wasn't one of the two I'd previously toured and set off up the beach / beach street to find it. And that's when I passed a 10 floor hotel... with bricked over doors. I walked around back just to check, and, well, one thing lead to another, and I found myself in the penthouse, with no windows to block the breeze and no railings on the balcony. I got some great shots of the surrounding area, but not many showing the height of it since I didn't want to be too obvious to the people in the real hotel next door. Especially since I had already paid for a plane ticket and my mom would kill me.

I left without incident (because I am a ninja), wandered through the real hotel (and out past the security guard designed to keep people like me from getting in), and found the fort. It was right on the edge of Old San Juan, so after crossing the bridge to the island, walking past but not up a tower crane with poor security, I finally got to the fort-thing only to find its gated AND guarded. Boo. Hiss.

I got the most expense-dense cab ride of my life (12$ for 1.5 miles, which is what happens when taxis charge by the zone and they fall just wrong) and went to the sea-glass beach! I love sea glass much more than I should. So I spent... two hours walking up and down the beach, reading a bit here and there. AND I FOUND SOME PURPLEish. Like I said, more than I should. Then I wandered through Old San Juan, went back to my cemetary-wall-reading spot (Little girl: "Este es un telefono grande"), and ended up at dinner in the same place I ate last time. For no good reason except Italian is hard to find down here.

After dinner I looked for more seaglass until sunset ruined my fun and caught a taxi back to the hostel. I think a few of us are going out, so maybe there will be more to report. Update: it's like herding cats and we ended up watching youtube videos instead.

Day 22: This is the way the journey ends, not with a whimper but with a bang.

After a late-night "They have bedbugs" email from my mom, I spent last night sleeping on top of the covers, lights on, waking up every hour or so to check if the dirt flecks around me had legs. When I finally woke up, the feeling that I was nearing the end of my journey was stronger than ever, but there was a ferry to Jost Van Dyke and back every hour... so I decided to end strong. I left my suitcase with the Jolly Roger Inn, walked to the ferry, and caught a boat out to the island.

It started off well, riding on the back of the boat, admiring the harbor and spotting the rock that stymied my round-the-coast hike... but then the wind kicked up, which kicked the waves up, and in perfect synergy the bowspray blew back onto the rear deck with every wave. I, and the other tourists were toughing it out until a particularly drenching burst of water, at which point the girls went in and the guys hung out just behind the cabin

There's two main beaches on JVD, Great Harbor and White Bay. We were dropped off in Great Harbor, and I walked the short (but hilly) hike to White Bay for breakfast/lunch. Amazingly, with each island I visit the water gets even more aquamarine and even more vibrant. I wandered along to a bar that had a good sandwiches and chatted with old tourists while I ate. Turns out I chose the Soggy Dollar bar, which is somewhat famous in these parts - though he didn't know which island it was on the St Croix, the guy who saved me from walking into the ghetto told me about it. The bartender was pretty cool, he had a dozen holsters (paring knife, leatherman, camera, flashlight? pens... and I don't know what else) on his belt, and a marlinspike around his neck.

Then I hiked and boated back to Tortola (and took this picture: Mmm, dieselwater) got my stuff, caught another ferry back to Charlotte Amalie (where they had five cruise ships docked), and then caught a 7pm flight back to San Juan (the only ticket available). Instead of spending $350 dollars on a ticket from Tortola, I'm spending 370$ all told on flights, taxis, and boats... but its so much more fun this way.

Our plane was a Cessna 402, a little 10 seater (including the pilot). I got an exit row! Which doesn't really make any difference. That's two wasted exit row seats in a row. Anyways, the flight was beautiful, and I learned that cruise ships - at night - look fantastic from the air. Everything the old gambling paddleboats tried to be, only with a bit more tact. The best description would be floating, glowing jewelry boxes.

In San Juan I caught a cab to my hostel. The cabbie didn't know where it was exactly, but I was prepared and had my GPS all fired up for just this eventuality. The hostel was full! A long stretch from the 3 guests last time. Luckily, the owner offered to let me crash on a couch and pay half price, a sweet deal.

Then I hung out with the other people - mostly Canadians - in the hostel. We drank a few beers, went out to a pool hall till it closed, split a bottle of wine and danced in a liquor store / bar crossover shop (I avoided it when I could, and thankfully I had a bit of swing for when I couldn't), and smoked cigars in lawn chairs outside on the street with locals till about 3am. It was great.

We ended the night with a short climb and a great view from the top of a parking garage. You know, end on a bang and all that:

Day 21: West End

Today I went to the other real "town" on Tortola: West End. I debated ferry vs taxi, but since the ferry didnt offer a price to just West End, and the cabbie came down on his fare, I decided to just go for it.

I booked a cheap room at the Jolly Roger Inn, and saved $10 by forgoing AC and a private bath. After checking in I replaced all the unnecessary things in my pack with climbing gear and set off on the day's adveture. The goal was to visit Smuggler's Cove, as the locals call it, or Lower Belmont Bay, as Google unimaginatively puts it.

So I set off on the road that I thought ran around the island, out to the westernmost point and up to cover... but the road disappeared. No problem, I continued on among the boulders, liking the plan more and more as I had to walk less and scramble - even climb - across the shore. This ended the same way over-water traversals always end: with a wet boot. But I didn't roll my ankle (it tried) jumping/sliding off the rock face, into a oncoming wave, so I feel its a fair trade.

I climbed/hiked back up the beach to a private dock, which I followed up the cliffs
to a driveway, which was about 20' horizontally and at least triple that vertically down to the opposite coast. I hiked out the driveway, over some terrible roads, and eventually made it to Smuggler's Cove, only to find beach-chair sellers and other people on what was supposed to be my private beach. So I set off for Gun Point, the rocky promontory on the west edge of the bay, figuring I should at least have that to myself.

I did. I ate lunch in a large cleft overlooking the cove, checking to make sure the ground beneath was dry and thus out of any splash-zone, and then set off to examine the point itself. I clambered out onto a corner to watch the waves crash, but neglected to doublecheck that I was standing on dry rocks. A large wave later, in less dry shorts, I set off up the rock to get a more comfortable view.


From the higher vantage point I saw a dry seat-shaped area that would make a perfect spot to read and watch the waves clash against the rocks. I set up an anchor and rappelled down. Fun, but even more fun was when I swung over a bit to rappel out over the crashing waves. I sat down and read until ADHD got the better of me, and then I set off to check out the cave at sea-level that was shooting water 20' into the air with every wave.

Luckily, the rocks were in layers, upthrust from the earth, and arrainged so that there were plentiful handholds, bomber jugs we'd call them in the climbing world. Unluckily, not all of them could be trusted. So each handhold, foothold had to be tested, and when found lacking, the rock tossed into the sea. And at 30' up over crashing waves, chucking a rock the size of a dictionary into the waves is enough to give a tinge of vertigo. I crossed over a rift, clipped out from my line, and set off over the wave-shooter, before carefully downclimbing.

You couldn't see any clearer from over here. But you could hear better, as there were two vents the size of letter-boxes that wend their way down to the same chamber that was geysering water out into the ocean. It sounded exactly as if a Gargantuan Walrus was snorting. If you ever go to BVI you really must go check it out.

I climbed even more cautiously back, and then set off to shortcut over the island back to West End. Here you can see it on a map:Map. One can draw two main conclusions from this map.
1) My gps doesn't work out here. As evidenced by my "short cut" back.
2) I'm terrible at hating hiking. 120M = almost 400 ft elevation change.

On my way back down into West End, I saw a boat somewhat beached and the wheels started turning...

I changed, rested, read, and then went to dinner on the water: a pizza burger and a bottle of Carib Beer. Carib is like a cheap Corona. Not bad, really. a pizza burger is a hamburger patty on garlic bread with cheese and sauce on top. Worth trying, not bad, but not what I was expecting... not that I expected anything. It was more a WTFMATE-lets-try-it than a "that sounds good" decision.

After dinner I set out to add another island to my creative total, for islands that pretend to be Islands. But I grabbed my bag just in case. And then, before I even got to the pseudo-island, there was a missing section of fence into the shipyard. Just asking for it AND a hole that big means no dogs. Yessss. So I screwed up my nerves and went for it.

Now I know why there are so many tales about ghost ships. Because empty boats at night are creepy as #%^&. They tilt unnaturally, the wind makes howling noises as it whips through whats left of the rigging... I took a couple pictures, manually adjusting it to look more realistically gloomy. Documentation done, there was nothing left to delay, so I forced myself to venture into the cabin to be able to say that I urbexed a boat. Once inside it felt more natural (well, less unnatural), but there was still no way I was going below decks with just a LED flashlight. Maybe if I had a maglight. And a machete.

Mission accomplished, I bailed back down the ladder lashed to the side of the boat and finished my trek to Frenchman's Cay. Today was a productive day.

Day 20: Around Tortola

I spent the day touring the island and reading at Brandywine Bay. Details to come when the mosquitos aren't out near the only free wifi on the island.

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There are certain upsides to stopping in a cruise-ship-town, including the fact that you can always find a group to split a cabbie tour of the island. So I walked down to the massive pier with a skyscraper docked next to it, and allowed myself to be herded to a tour bus after doublechecking that they were saying fifteeN and not fifty. In islander they sound nigh-identical.

The tour buses are f350/f450 superduties with benches and a canopy on the back and a PA system in the front. They have 25 seats and fit "any number of people" - but I sat up front with the driver, where you get a commentary with the commentary.

The tour was good, we took the ridge road so we had great views of most the bays on the island, and all the other islands - which he pointed out and told us fun facts. Like beef island, where pirates would steal cows until the woman who owned the cows invited them all in for arsenic tea.

We saw the highest point on the island, 1780 feet (too far to hike, I decided) and stopped at Cane Garden Bay - one of the nicest beaches on the island. Well, it would have been except for the fact that it was carpeted with people. I found a empty spot out of the rain that found us right as we got off the bus, and had lunch.

In the afternoon, I caught a publico to Brandywine Bay, a small empty bay 4 miles up from town. It was nice, much better than Cane Garden. I sat in some wet sand (oops), finished my book, and watched the locals race RC boats.

Back in town, I finally found a wifi hotspot, caught up on email, and then got attacked by mosquitos... So I had dinner in a pub and called it a night.

Day 19: Brice Skips the Country

,Today I found someone even less comfortable with me not knowing where I'm staying than my mom is: Customs agents. I got up early (enough to get the continental breakfast*), and caught a "Fast Ferry" (30ish knots?) to Tortola, one of the British Virgin Islands.

I think I like the British Virgin Islands, even though they speak an even more eclectic mix of languages. The plants are even nicer here, and the fact that it was cloudy all afternoon made it beautiful out. I checked in to a hotel recommended to me by a cabby, wandered most of Road Town, and had a late lunch*. After reading a while on the shore of the bay (and watching dozen types of fish that had congregated where the stream drained into the harbor). I wandered up the shore line, out of Road Town.

Since it's Easter, most everything is closed, but I still got to see a few neat-looking hotel complexes and the (somewhat depressing) swim-with-dolphins center. Eventually I got to the sea, where you can see several other members of the BVI. If you ever look at it on a map, it's amazing how many there are. After reading on the shoreline I decided to go find dinner*, and found the oldest restaurant on the Island, built on the ruins of a fort taken over by the English from the Dutch in 1666. Good lasanga, and a good view of the harbor.

Then I went for a swim in the somewhat-dirty (cabbies always know the cheapest hotels), showered off the pool-water, and decided to crash for the night.

*Look Ray, 3 meals! For the first time this vacation, but still, I did it!

Day 18: St. Thomas

A little too built up, but a great jumping off point. Pics and the difference between PR and VI ferries as soon as they dont want me to pay for internet.

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I got up, almost walked into the projects, turned around, and got onto the ferry to St John. The VI ferries are unsubsidized, so it was a little different. Some of the diferences: AC, an extra hull, 15 more knots, and 48 extra dollars. But it was smooth enough to read, so it was totally worth it. I did go outside for a little bit, made a girl scream (by spotting some dolphins, what did you think?), and went back in.

In St Thomas I went to the Galleon House, and was rewarded yet again for waiting till the last minute. I ended up getting a bayview room at just over the hostel rate. Take that, conventional wisdom. Then I collapsed onto my bed because it is oppressively hot down here. I, um, read somemore. And learned things. Things like: If I replace meals with honey roasted peanuts they will be gone in 18 hours. Freezing yourself in Carbonite is a viable escape from deadly explosions... you know, useful things.

After it cooled down a bit, I headed out to go to Blackbeards Castle! Its not actually Blackbeard's castle, its a old observation tower that's they turned into a tourist trap... that was closed today. Maybe becaue it's Saturday? Yeah, I dunno. AND it was up the historical "99 steps" - an odd name for 103 stairs. They built it out of bricks the Dane's brought over as ballast. Other than that, it's nothing special. To get from the street to (the restaurant to the pool to reception to) my room is 93 steps up the same hill.

Then I went to go look at the old fort... also closed. (Y'all should be impressed, I've not jumped so many fences recently) and gave up walking in the heat. I settled down in the park to read and watch the homeless guys feed pigeons/chickens. I saw two pigeons court (Tip to guys: make your neck fat, cut them off whenever they walk anywhere, then puke on them) and saw one chick chase its brother for an hour, intent on stealing the bug the former had caught. The hen just watched.

I walked through some (overpriced) stores, checked out a few restaurants, and went back to my room to shower and change before heading out to dinner. I set off to eat some dead cow. It's good to have achievable goals. Dinner was during happy hour, which means they doubled my beer... and I started planning a soap-box podracer, and then podracer-type jet-engines for a soapbox cart. You know, achievable goals and all that.

Day 17: St Croix

I got up, searched for a new hotel, and found the Comanche Club. Not only was it cheaper, it was also just across the street. When I saw the elevator was a cage-type and roped off at that, I knew I found a place to stay, regardless of the rate the receptionist quoted. That it was well less than what the internet said, even after taxes and fees, was just icing on the cake. She made up for it by giving me and my heavy bag a room on the fourth floor.

Then I went out and explored the old dutch fort. It was odd seeing cannons on only one of two water-facing sides, but when you look at the bay, reefs limit entrance of anything large than a canoe to one narrow channel. Reading up on it, it was more to protect against slave uprisings than foriegn invaders and/or pirates. A rasta went out to the lawn to sing easter songs while I visited the old church and scale-house, a nice touch you'll only find in the Caribbean.

Then I caught a cab and asked for the Cruzan Rum distillery. The cabbie reminded me it was Good Friday (one of my favorite holidays) and that everything's closed. Tip 42 for carribean exploration: avoid Easter by a week. So I went to the hotel to clean the bay out of my clothes, read, read, went to late lunch with Qui-Gon, read, and then set off for my other planned adventure for the day.

I caught a cab to Cane Garden Bay, dropped off on someones driveway. What can I say? They had an old sugarmill in their yard. I cut across the edge of their property to the beach, where I took a few pictures of the oil refinery, realized I forgot my kindle, and read tourist magazines waiting for sunset. After a while I headed back to the sugar mill ruins and took pictures as the sky darkened further and further, trying to get a good picture of the old windmill, the steam vent, and the volatiles flames all at the same time. It didn't work, but I got a few sweet pictures elsewhere, then set off to get a different angle of the refinery. I ended up walking a mile and a half across the side and front of the plant, not even covering the whole of it. The refinery is huge. I ducked into a trucking yard, an open gate, and the corporate office visitor lot to get some pictures. Even though a few spots were begging for a run for the fences, I decided that the triple-threat of homeland security, immigration police, and corporate security made it not worth trying.

I walked back to the highway, meaning to catch a cab, but there were none being caught.... so I ended up finally walking coast-to-coast on a state, from the surf by the refinery to the docks in Christiansted.