The British Virgin Islands

Its cheaper than you think to open a burger and beer bar in an American Expatriate colony somewhere. Sell cold beer to boaters, rent out a few slips, buy up a few bargain boats and put them on long term charter.

Quote: Tomspur

Great travelogue Face, I really enjoyed it.

I need to head on over to the Caribbean again poste haste!!

Thanks for the memories!!!

Thanks, Tomspur, and you're welcome.

Babs mentioned that same road trip over Tortola. I didn't get to check it out. Our road trip upon reaching Road Town was all of 3 minutes.

St Thomas didn't really impress me. It reminded me of the gulf coast of Florida. Just too damn busy. Granted, I only saw a very little slice of it, but what I saw didn't strike me as a "destination". It was more something to tolerate and get through.

I dunno where St Barts is, just that it's froggy ;) I do want to check out St Vincent on the recommendation of Paco, but that's surely not something we could "just pop over to" from Tortola. Looks like a 2 week sail just to go there. Maybe I can convince The Fed to try some new waters sometime...

Quote: Evenbob

He was an early riser nut. His favorite saying was,
he'd seen every sunrise of his life. He was rarely
up past 10pm.

Ugh. We surely differ there. I was getting up at 8:30a and thought I had accomplished some great feat.

I think most of the sunrises I've seen, lifetime, are the result of still being up when the sun rose. Without a job or responsibilities, my natural groove is to bed at 6a and up at 2p. Dunno why that is, but I can't seem to fix it. Been like that since I was 16.

Quote: Fleastiff

Its cheaper than you think to open a burger and beer bar in an American Expatriate colony somewhere. Sell cold beer to boaters, rent out a few slips, buy up a few bargain boats and put them on long term charter.

Pfft, forget all that. We already got it all planned out.

Wings. Their "hot wings" suck balls. They're not the least bit spicy. Here in WNY, we know wings, and ours would kill down there. Plus, there's chickens running around everywhere. So wifey is gonna be the next chicken wing magnate.

Me? I'm gonna be an ice baron. Ice is the biggest racket I've ever seen, this coming from a decade long junkie. Fresh water is so precious, and it wouldn't be nothing to fashion up rain water collection stations, filters, and pump out the frozen cubes of goodness at mind boggling profit.

I'll own one of those islands down there someday. Paid for $10 at a time =D

“A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.” - Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim

Day 8.

stam·i·na - ˈstamənə - noun - 1. the ability to sustain prolonged physical or mental effort.
en·dur·ance - enˈd(y)o͝orəns - noun - 1. the fact or power of enduring an unpleasant or difficult process or situation without giving way.

Being a life long athlete, I am familiar with both of the above terms. My little posse of fellow warriors have expounded on them both to give them detail that fit our life style. Stamina, we decided, is your tank. It's how much energy you have right now at your disposal. Drain the tank, and you can go no further. Endurance, we went on, is how well your tank refills. When you drain that tank and can go no further, how long is it before you can go again?

I'm a low stamina, high endurance type of fellow. Stamina I always reach the end of. It's common. In my 54 seasons of competitive sports, I drain the tank several times a game. I drain the tank fishing. I drain it playing with my kid. I drain it tending the yard. An empty tank is a common affair.

I've never once in my life reached the end of my endurance. But on the morning of Day 8, I surely had some wonder.

I woke and just laid there. I didn't feel rested. I didn't feel healed. I felt like I was suffering from sort of poison, some sort of concoction that was partly natural; maybe the toxins from some exotic bacteria coursing through my blood, and partly unnatural, like some man made nerve gas that's never seen the light of day. I couldn't sit up. I couldn't even think of sitting up. It was as if I was under some sort of mild paralytic. There was really only one word that made sense, one word that with it came the deepest desire I might have ever felt in my life. One word that registered and set off that tuning fork in my being - water.

I've never needed something so badly in my entire life. I've never known an urge, a desire, so strong before. The drinking, the sweating, the exertion, the ingestion of salt water, the non stop presence of Vicodin... it was as if my body harvested all the need from every single dehydrated cell and gave it to me all at once. WATER. I've never known thirst like that before. Never knew thirst like that existed.

I couldn't even croak to someone to bring me any. I just laid there and focused on the one, clear, sparkly, cold word - water. I heard the waves lap against the boat. I heard someone taking a piss. I heard coffee bubbling in the pot. I needed a goddamn drink.

I hauled myself out of bed with my stamina tank already dry, found the first 80* half bottle of water laying on the counter, and downed it. Even hot water was the most magical thing that's ever touched my lips. I felt the heaviness in my gut, waited to see if, like my last alcohol poisoning episode, this was gonna set off 7 hours of furious emesis , and found the water to settle in like a baby penguin into mama's down. So far, so good.

I knew this day was gonna be like every day before it. I knew it wasn't the last day, either. I knew I had to prepare. I crawled above deck and had my breakfast. I made sure to get a banana in me, swapped the milk for OJ, drank some more water. Some 30 minutes later I was functioning, but nowhere near serviceable. I needed desperate attention, and so desperate attention is what I gave myself. I stowed the Vicodin for a moment, took a break from the cigs. I sat, I drank water, and I stretched. Granted, my stretches are pretty pathetic as I'm too crunchy for anything even resembling yoga, but I did my best. I kept drinking and kept stretching until I was mildly pliable, and then I took my ass back to bed.

I laid there, spread eagle, and tried to meditate my everything back to working again. I tried commanding all the little stabilizer muscles to loosen, to flex, to stop hurting so goddamn much. I tried willing my disks to realign. Tried willing my hip flexors to stop being engulfed in fire. And most of all, I tried willing my endurance pump to unclog and start filling that tank. Somewhere along the way, I did enough to find comfort and fell asleep.

I woke up maybe an hour later and I felt terrible. That was good. I always feel terrible, so I was close to being back to normal. I came back above deck to drink my water and smoke my smokes and see what everyone was doing. The girls were all sunbathing on the bow, The Fed and Paul were milling about on deck. My nose had restarted its incessant running, so it wasn't long before The Fed reached down, dug in the cooler, and handed me a beer. Well... yeah. I guess I might as well.

The plan this day was to take a taxi over the mountain and across the point to White Bay and The Soggy Dollar bar. Pretty much after my second beer, we hopped in the dinghy and headed to shore to do just that. I was up, I was moving, and I was starting to buzz again, but I was missing something. Something in me was still hollow. Disconnected.

We hopped in a pickup converted into sort of an open air bus, and went up this long, one-way-width road consisting of corners and grades that I didn't think were legal. He stopped at the top where there as a cut in the trees looking down on White Bay below and allowed everyone to take it in and snag a pic.



And a short, only mildly terrifying ride back down the hill, he was stopping and dumping us all off at the end of a dirt road. I wasn't sure what was going on or what we were to do next, but as it turned out, we were already there.



The weather was quite perfect for my mood. It remained cloudy and a little windy, so I didn't have to keep getting up to hide from the sun, nor deal with sweat making my nose run even more. We grabbed 6 lawn chairs and set up at the beach, waiting just 10 minutes before we all needed a drink. We chilled and drank our first round, the ladies commenting on all the "competition" we were surrounded by, and the guys not saying much at all. We sat there for two rounds before making some reservations at the beach side pub for lunch.



After lunch, we went back down to the beach to do nothing in particular. Ash kept making beer runs for me, and I obliged by continuing to sit there and drink them. The ladies eventually got restless and wanted to walk and play games and frolic, but neither I nor apparently The Fed were in the mood for it. The foursome took off to find some fun while he and I remained on the beach.

We sat there for five hours.

About the only thing I did the whole time was on the way for another round, I thought I heard the local musician playing Johnny Cash. I got to the bar into listening distance in time for him to chat with the crowd and prepare for his next song. As he began strumming it, I remember think that 1) I really wished I could find a honky tonk, and 2) I swore I knew that song. Sure enough, dude sets into some David Alan Coe. That was right in my wheelhouse, so it didn't take but half a verse until I stood right next to him and sang along for the whole thing =)

My impromptu performance over, I returned to my chair by The Fed and finished off our five hour sit. That entire time, The Fed only told me once to "settle down and not be so wild", at which time I told him I was "just following his lead". That's it. Two sentences, five hours, and who knows how many beers. I took a moment then and will take one now to thanks the gods that I'm a guy and can just sit in comfortable silence with other like minded guys=)

And that's pretty much it. The Fed and I just sat there all day, getting hammered, saying nothing, and watching a mob of college girls flock in the water in front of us. That was Day 8. That's all I did. I sat and got smashed.

Ash did eventually pull me out of the chair before we left to go for a walk with her. I staggered down the beach, watching some local kids build a sand house for 3 crabs they caught. I saw a flounder in the surf and pointed it out to Ash. But other than that, I just sat and drank for so long we had no cab ride back because they were closed and had to hop in the back of a local's pick up to get home. A ride that found 9 of us crammed back there as she drove up and down the hill as if she was training for the Dakkar rally.

Day 8. I suppose that was our "day of rest".

Quote: Face

The Fed reached down, dug in the cooler, and handed me a beer. Well... yeah. I guess I might as well

some possibilities here:

1] you know how funny this is stuck where it is, and are proud of your humor writing ablilities

2] you are unconscious of how funny that is, since you imagine everyone drinks beer like you and The Fed

not possible:

- relating to how unappealing beer is to me when I am actually thirsty. [not dry - thirsty]

that was a man-crawling-on-hands-and-knees-in-desert level description of thirst. I'm going to get a drink of water right now. Not a beer.

Rio Dulce in Guatemala just had a BBQ Store open...Meats imported from all over the world.

Its only fifty dollars to enter Guatemala for three months, the beers are cold and cheap.

Quote: odiousgambit

some possibilities here:

1] you know how funny this is stuck where it is, and are proud of your humor writing ablilities

2] you are unconscious of how funny that is, since you imagine everyone drinks beer like you and The Fed

not possible:

- relating to how unappealing beer is to me when I am actually thirsty. [not dry - thirsty]

that was a man-crawling-on-hands-and-knees-in-desert level description of thirst. I'm going to get a drink of water right now. Not a beer.

LOL! You're close with one, but it's more "none of the above".

I am very aware of the things that will put me out of sorts, and obviously did my damnedest to avoid them all. Things like sun-sickness. I'll get terribly nauseous and generally icky feeling whenever I get sunburn. So although I nearly loathe the greasy, everything-sticks-to-you feeling of sunscreen, I kept it liberally applied the whole time.

About the only thing as bad or worse than sun-sickness is a hangover. And I didn't have a single one the entire time I was there.

I know my limit. It's right about the time my saliva begins to taste like old beer. And every time I got to that point, I chased it with something good. Water, OJ, sometimes milk, maybe just sucking on ice cubes. Between the salt, sun, and the sauce, hydration was an ever present chore.

So that thirst I woke up with was just that - thirst. It wasn't hangover thirst (although I wondered upon waking), it was just a very, very, very insane thirst.

Also, while I do take some artistic liberties here and there, I do try to keep things true and make my deviations absurd enough to see as humor. The hard part, and what I think you missed here, is time. Although it only took but 3 minutes to read from man-in-the-desert thirst to grabbing a beer, the actual time elapsed was probably closer to 4 hours. Granted one of those was napping, but the other three were guzzling and then constantly sipping water and juice.

I totally get the thirst and beer concept (although my dislike of it probably isn't as bad as yours). But by the time beer thirty came to be, I wasn't thirsty no more =)

Was it an expensive trip? Was there a casino, I never
go anywhere if there's not a casino.

Quote: Evenbob

Was it an expensive trip? Was there a casino, I never
go anywhere if there's not a casino.

The British Virgin Islands has a population of under 30,000 as opposed to over 100,000 in the US Virgin Islands. BVI is very expensive and there is no casino.

BVI is still a territory of the United Kingdom. They use the dollar as the pound is inconvenient. Most of the European territories in the Western Hemisphere are expensive.

Quote: Evenbob

Was it an expensive trip? Was there a casino, I never
go anywhere if there's not a casino.

To me, it was god awful expensive. Of course, paying $3 p/beer at a hockey tournament is something for which I nearly have to remortgage my house =p

It was about $2,500 per person, but that's including everything. Flights and parking, boat charter, fuel, extra fuel, fresh water, extra water, full stock of food, extra food bought, dinners and drinks, mooring fees, fishing licenses and equipment, tips to the cabbies and bartenders, garbage delivery, ice, souvenirs, .... everything. So I suppose when you break it down and find it's but $250 a day, and then compare that to a casino vacation, NASCAR weekend, or repair bill to a vehicle... I suppose one could convince themselves that it was "cheap". I can say that while I thought it was "god awful expensive", that I got more than my money's worth, for sure.

Here's a casino list...

Island	Casino Allowed
Anguilla	No
Antigua	Yes
Aruba	Yes
Bahamas	Yes
Barbados	Yes
Belize	Yes
Bermuda	No
Bonaire	Yes
British Virgin Islands	No
Cancun	Yes
Cayman Islands	No
Curacao	Yes
Dominica	No
Dominican Republic	Yes
Grenada	No
Guadeloupe	Yes
Jamaica	Yes
Puerto Rico	Yes
Saba	Yes
St. Barts	No
St. Eustatius	No
St. Kitts	Yes
St. Lucia	Yes
St. Martin/Maarten	Yes
St. Vincent	Yes
Trinidad and Tobago	Yes
Turks and Caicos	Yes
U.S. Virgin Islands	Yes

The closest casino was a full day's sail, one way, open sea, to Puerto Rico, and then drive to wherever the hell it is. Not to mention returning to American soil and the custom's nonsense that entails (as well as more custom's fun on the way back).

If you ever want to go and need a captain, I'll captain for free. There's all sorts of stuff on the water we can bet on to keep you busy =)

“I must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on.” - Samuel Beckett

Day 9.

I woke up feeling just about terrific. My illness had all but passed, and I always feel like a million bucks when it does. Today was no different. It wasn't so much an energy thing; I was still tired enough to die. I just felt good.

The plan this day was to meet The Fed's buddies at another beach on Jost. They were on a cruise and this was one of their stops, so we motored on over to where they would be. I'm not sure exactly where it was; I think it was maybe Manchioneel Bay on Little Jost, I dunno, but it was a total tourist spot. A huge beach, tons of bars and restaurants, you couldn't walk 10 steps without running into the next bar. There were people everywhere, it was very open,... you know, a tourist stop.

I dunno what got into me, but as soon as we hit land at about 10a, I wanted a beer. So I got one. And since I started drinking, everyone else did, too.

We met The Fed's friends, and it was weird as hell. Almost all of them I recognized. Some from hockey, some just randomly around town, some as mainstays at the local bar, I was surrounded by "home". It was a weird clash as I almost only ever see them in the dead of NY winter, yet here we were.

There wasn't a ton for me to do there. I wasn't about to go swimming for the sake of swimming. There was nowhere to fish. There wasn't much natural to look at with it being so busy, and I didn't much care to just walk around and stare at different bars and souvenir shops. So I found a bar with a lawn chair, a sun umbrella, and had myself a seat.

I got up once for lunch, at which time I went back to the boat to drop off clothes and pick up more for the rest of the crew. I got up to go piss. But other than that, I sat in that chair and drank from 10a until dark. I dunno wtf had gotten into me, but I went balls out that day. I didn't even care. I wasn't getting sick, I wasn't getting a headache, people kept bringing me beer and I kept drinking them fast enough that they didn't get warm.

The Fed eventually came by and put a few hours in the chair next to me, teasing me every time I went to the bathroom as it took a good 10 steps before I stopped the out of control swaying I was doing. Paul joined sometime later and I kept warning him to get his pasty ass out of the sun, but he was hammering the rum punches even faster than I and said he was "fine". Ash would stop by every now and then to try to coax me into the ocean, but I wasn't having it. I'd get up and dance to the Marley that was blaring, but I didn't want much else than that chair and my cold beer. I was comfortable.



I kept waiting for the "beer spit". It never came. I waited to feel dry, waited to feel sick, waited for the headache. It never came. I had broken through the wall, and it was on

That's all we did all day. We sat on that beach and drank for 12 hours straight. By the time we returned to the boat, I had to all but carry everyone but The Fed into the dinghy (he mostly just dove in). We got to the boat and the party raged on. The girls were dancing, Paul was singing, The Fed did his best to keep the rhythm on his air guitar. It was a riot.



Shortly thereafter, The Fed tried his hand at Jamaican Steak, and he killed it. It was damn near the hottest thing I'd ever eaten, and also one of the best. It was SO GOOD. After dinner, which was at 10p-11p, I just had a feeling. It was one I haven't had in a long time. It reminded me of youth, that wild, hormonal time. That feeling of the first real day of spring, that day when you can finally drive down the road with the window down. When the dirt and grime of winter gives way to the bright green of new life, when the air loses its bite and becomes soothing. I felt new. I felt peace. Real peace. I felt at one.

I went to the bow of the boat, leaned against the jib, and just stood there in reflection. I heard the tone change in the boat as the island jams gave way to darker rock, and it didn't touch me. I watched the boats bob in the harbor, the beach fall under a blanket of quiet, the stars twinkle in the sky. I stood there, and I gave thanks. I reflected on life, how a guy like me got to a place like this. For 45 minutes, I just stood on that bow and opened my heart to existence. I had my alone time, and it was good.

I returned to a disaster lol. Ash was inebriated to the point of silent crying. Paul was the same. Kristin was trying to take care of him. Mrs Fed was blasted, The Fed... I don't even know what he was doing. And I came down from my time in the clouds and had to wonder, again, how I'm always the last one left that has any sort of control.

But things were fine. Let them have their moments. I'll have mine. On top of the world. And with not a wisp of the spins, I laid down and went to bed.