Uncategorized – Uniquely Theo

No “Jumbies” at Haulover and the Unfeeling Autonomous Wheelchairs

September 8, 2025September 8, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

Friday the 11th was to be our last full day here. I had encouraged Nick and Tasia to head off and do a more strenuous hike if they chose, without having to worry about the caretaking of mom they did on earlier hikes i.e. ensuring that this mom did not fall and break her skeleton in several place. So they took off and Luke, Miriam and I enjoyed the morning at the villa and its surrounds and also worked on planning what the last hurrah would be in the afternoon.

I soon decided on a walkabout and headed first down to the beach below which was basically commandeer by the Westin Resort and littered with a large array of sea toys including lounge chairs, umbrellas, kayaks, sea fun adventure boats, SUPs, and water bikes. Though this beach and all beaches in the U.S Virgin Islands are public, their chairs and other amenities were not and it didn’t really seem too “public” to me with its attendant and all the paraphernalia. Since I was decidedly on a “walk about” I opted not to do a “swim about” at the beach especially since I did not have a towel and was not in my swim gear. Thus, I meandered back up towards the villa and about the roads beyond, hoping to find a path down to the next bay over. But it was not to be. Upon returning to the villa I was warmly greeted by a large Green Iguana, Iggy, and I was hoping that we would develop a relationship as it turned its head toward me. It looked at me like it owned the place as it was pausing in the sun and I was the interloper. Then like a flash it made an abrupt about face and charged off to summit the stone wall where it dallied a while and dared me to get closer. And then like a shot something else grabbed its attention and it was off.

Movie of Iggy the Iguana

It is Iggy Again

Nick and Tasia arrived back from a more arduous hike but were ready for an afternoon of adventure. We decided that lunch at Shambles (a very colorful Caribbean themed restaurant which we had passed on other island excursions ) was a good choice and then on to Haulover Bay for a final snorkeling adventure. This would be our last chance to have a close encounter with any of the mythical sea serpents, not very Disney-ish mermaids and sirens, sea demons and devil fish, or a“jumbie” (a mythological spirit or demon) that inhabit these waters (in the folklore of the Caribbean.

Food first! Shambles was named after the state of the proprietor’s lives following the 2017 hurricane season. If one’s preference is muted pastel shade, Shambles would be an assault to one’s senses. Stepping out of the Jeep Wrangler, I could feel the casual relaxed vibe and was totally energized by the vibrancy of the colors and relaxed, casual atmosphere. It’s not fancy but has lots of character with local art work, walls and ceilings floating with flags, old license plates and tons of memorabilia. Sitting at high tables, enjoying the breeze and just soaking ion the Caribbean vibe was perfect.

Afterward, we traveled out the East End Road with its potholed roller coaster surface to Haulover Beach. The beach is easily accessible…no long hot sweaty hikes to reach it. It was pebbly and coral strewn and more rugged than other beaches thus not so gentle on the feet when entering the water. But the water was clear, there were few people, and the photo ops abounded. It was a perfect natural aquarium to close out our St. John’s fish safari and coral quest.

It was now time to return the snorkeling gear in Cruz Bay. As we wandered the dive shop area, we encountered a peacock with its iridescent blue coloring of the upper body and many shades of green in the long tail feathers. Right above it was a playful “Mosaic Fish” with tiles shimmering in similar shades of deep blue and emerald green… all part of the charm of St. John..

The next hours of the evening and morning were spent preparing to exit the villa and packing up our stuff. For a change I did not accumulate any souvenirs and other stuff and junk to bring home, thus saving myself from any additional dusting chores. So it was: eat the leftovers for dinner, stuff the suitcases, consolidate the garbage, prepare sandwiches for the journey, take more pictures to add to the 565 + pictures I had already taken, take garbage to dump, return the Jeep Wrangler (totally unscathed miraculously), and make our way to the ferry dock.

The departure from St. John’s to Red Hook went according to plan. Arriving at ferry dock, luggage in tow, about 45 minutes ahead of time. We settled ourselves in this dockside pavilion and purchased tickets online for ourselves and our bags! As departure neared, the open air “safari taxis” disgorged a crowd of people that began amassing for the 10:00am ferry departure. Nothing was sterile about the atmosphere here. with many colorful locals, travelers from the upscale resorts each toting four of five pieces of luggage, squealing children, and even a few suited business persons. The crew began manhandling and stacking the luggage, all piled in the rear of the ferry with no “ticket” to prove that I had indeed entrusted my luggage to them.

We glided across the turquoise water, a short 20 minute trip to the Red Hook terminal where the communal taxi’s awaited. Once the luggage was retrieved , we joined the ground transportation queue to Cyril E. King Airport for our return trip to Philadelphia. The route was one last seat gripping harrowing experience of hairpin turns and winding mountain roads. The airport is not large or imposing yet funnels thousands through daily and we parked ourselves in the waiting area preparing for our re-entry into “real life”. We mused that in about 7 hours we would be back in Philadelphia. WRONG!

Then the real adventure began. Over the intercom came the announcement that our flight to Miami would be departing a little later than scheduled. With this delay we were fearful of missing our connecting flight in Miami, especially due to a short connection time of 50 minutes. By the time we left however, we had already heard that there would be a delay in the departure time for or Miami Philadelphia flight. I could stop sweating. The flight was uneventful and when we arrived in Miami little did we realize we would have 18+ hours to spare in to make our Philly flight.

Initially the flight delay was about 2 hours so we settled in and made no effort to reschedule the flight. However the departure time kept getting pushed back though the flight was NEVER cancelled and we were subjected to an inordinate amount of boarding time changes. The changes kept coming in with little explanation and we were left totally unsure of whether we should try to rebook, wait at the airport, or get lodging in the area. Miriam attempted the customer service line at the airport but it was 40 people deep . Miriam managed to get us on a stand-by wait list but we already knew finding five open seat was a non-starter. When Nick called AA the telephone queue was lengthy so he left his number as suggested to receive a return call. No return call ever came through. Eventually with the departure time getting later and later and all the attendants had left the gate area, we began to realize we were on our own for the night in Terminal D. . Talk about a stressful, exhausting, discombobulating and baffling experience.

Airports are noisy with their cavernous ceilings and the bustle of travelers shuffling through the corridors, the clatter off the luggage rolling and the chattering voices. But here in Miami there was a new sound, a high pitched beeping of the autonomous wheelchairs roaming about the concourse, a special feature in Terminal D the American Airline’s domain. Modern technology can be a wonder but also a huge annoyance when it beeps, pings, chirps, dings and these wheelchairs cruised about with their nagging beep-beep-beep. Thankfully at some point they were put to bed at their charging station.

Since we soon realized that all of the shops would be saying goodnight to those stranded, we made our last foray along the corridor to procure the libations we deemed we would need to weather the nighttime in the airport , right there in the eerie “Blue Corridor.” Miami has a color-coded system so the North (D) concourse has a special identity as “Blue.” Yes, dramatic bright blue lighting was bathing terminal D, meant to be aesthetic as well as way finding in this mile long concourse . So unless you are color blind , just follow the lighting you are matched too. . Perhaps they will soon have boarding passes that match the color of your corridor.

Miriam and Luke wandered elsewhere hoping to find a quieter more comfortable place to hopefully sleep rather than on the hard terrazzo airport floor bathed in blue light. Tasia and I appropriated the charging station in our waiting area ensuring limitless iPad power to watch movies in a blue haze. . Could I sleep? The design of the seating precludes comfort.. There is no place to stretch out on the rows of rigid chairs with their immovable dividers and thus precluding any attempt to create a makeshift bed. The only option became the industrial grade floor covering in the waiting area with its dust, dirt, stains allergens and blueness. NOT for me. I figured I would sit the night out watching movies.

About 1:30 in the morning (sleepless in Miami) Nick decided to do a long run of about 4-5 miles. I need not have worried that he would get lost in this cavernous airport because he would be able to find his way back, after running the red and yellow corridors, to the blue corridor.

At some point a text came through that the gate was changed and we then would need to make our way down the concourse to our new gate towards the far end . Thank god for the blue corridor of light or we might have gotten totally lost on this very strait direct passageway to our new blue lighted gate. When an announcement came through that our flight now had a confirmed departure time, a rousing cheer sprung forth from the remaining 50 or so passengers who had not made any other alternative arrangements as they preferred to bask in blue light .

A Jutting Ram and Domesticated Equines

September 2, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

We had three more full days to explore St. John’s and the Virgin Islands National Park and I definitely wanted to fill them primarily with snorkeling and hiking. Our choice for Day #6 was the Salt Pond Bay Coral Reefs and the Rams Head hike, accessed from the beach on Salt Pond Bay. We had hoped for a more “private” snorkeling adventure and opted to head east and south to the Salt Pond Reef in the south west part of St. John’s betting that the the driving distance and the 1/2 mile hike in would deter any crowds.

We were greeted at the trail head by a couple of the permanent wild residents of St. John’s. – a couple of stubborn and unpredictable domesticated equines (aka burros and donkeys) sauntering down the trail to Salt Pond Bay. Eventually they veered off into the scrub along the trail but I kept my eye out unsure of where they might pop up again. We made our way down the full sun, rocky, dusty half mile trail to Salt Pond Beach. We came upon Salt Pond just before we approached the shoreline with a sandy strip separating the salt pond from the bay itself. Historically residents would harvest salt from ponds like this .

In that the day was heating up and it was already 9:15am, we opted to make our way east and across Salt Pond Bay and the sand beach. This section was easy until I reached “blue cobblestone beach, ” the nickname for the shoreline here of volcanic stones that have a bluish-gray tint. Now it was slow careful steps so as not to roll an ankle on these rolling shifting stones with each step a bit of a wobble and a clatter. But once back on firmer ground the trail began to climb up, mostly in full sun, through dry coastal scrub, a plethora of the very phallic Turk’s Cap Barrel Cacti, and views of the Caribbean’s turquoise waters.

This is windswept terrain was at its best and the wind sweeping across the trail at times tried its best to blow me over. Ram Head can best be described as a dramatic headland jutting into the sea and the reward for this close to one mile hike is a 360-degree view of the surrounding waters. Salt Pond Bay was sparkling with sapphire and ultramarine hues and the Atlantic sported a shimmering deeper blue color. It was an exhilarating experience standing atop the “ Ram” with the wind sweeping across the “Head” and the ways crashing below.

Our hunch was right and we were fortunate that we didn’t have to share this bay with an overdose of other snorkelers. It was now time for snorkeling and time to face the awkward task of entry into this underwater world. It should be easy from this sandy beach but donning the gear was not without its comedic side. Do I sit on the beach and don the fins? But I recollect that when walking in them previously, I waddled like a penguin. So I waded out into shallow water at the beach midpoint and plunked myself down. It seemed to be going well as I struggled to put on penguin shoe #1 until a small wave arrived and not only moved me around but swept the other one towards shore. I somehow eventually managed to secure both flippers on to my feet, secure the mask to my face, and get the snorkel into my mouth. I quite ungracefully tried a dolphin dive into the water resulting in getting a snorkel full of water and a mask that became an indoor pool for my face. Seems I forgot to push up the forehead hairs thus breaking the seal. But eventually success! I was cruising along toward the rocky ledges of shoreline and its coral gardens and reef fish. Parrot fish and blue tang abounded and I was enjoying the metronome of sea fans. It was exhilarating.

Exiting in the middle with its grassy beds, I was quite content with my adventure until I compared notes and my lame photos with Tasia’s and my few blue tang and blue parrot paled compared to her exquisitely captured images of a Longspine Squirelfish, a Threespot Damselfish, a Gray Angelfish, a Parrotfish, an Ocean Surgeonfish with an Foureye Butterflyfish, a school of Dwarf Round Herring, a Moon Jellyfish and a Hawksbill Sea Turtle. Clearly she is the expert photographer and I definitely qualify as the inexpert…though I am quite good at using Google Images to identify the fish she captured!

Following a very satisfying hiking and snorkeling adventure it was time to cruise on to Cruz Bay heading up route 107 to Coral Bay. I kept trying to film us traversing the road to hopefully capture a video and pictures of the road as it rises and falls along dry scrubby hillside replete with its uneven pavement, potholes and washed out edges as well as the occasional donkey or goats along the roadside. Not too captivating footage resulted. Passing through Coral Bay, a quiet village, we continued on route 10 twisting and climbing and dipping up and down the mountainside until we arrived in Cruz Bay and headed up to our villa for a chill afternoon and preparation for dining out.

Our dining choice was Morgan’s Mango Restaurant which features a Caribbean vibe as well as Caribbean food. They claim a bit of a mix of Creole, Bahamian, Cuban, Jamaican, Haitian, Puerto Rican and Mayan. I am not sure which cuisine inspired my “coconut panko encrusted fresh grouper sautéed in organic cold-pressed coconut oil until crisp on the outside & moist within— served with a white wine, coconut, lemongrass reduction a unique Caribbean blend of a potato/yuca mash & fresh seasonal vegetables.” Whichever island was the inspiration for our dishes , they were exceptional…and when sated it was then onward to the villa for a swim and relaxing poolside beneath a sky blanketed with stars.

Trounced by Trumbull and Sidling to the Sea

July 25, 2025July 25, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

I was quite grateful for the air cooled bedrooms in our Judith Fancy villa but, as I emerged from it the second morning, I was so much more appreciative of the balmy breeze, salt tinged air, the wide blue sky and the blazing island sun. But no tarrying on our only other full day in St. Croix. We had decided the day’s adventure would be hiking the Trumbull Trail to the Annaly Bay tide pools and needed to get on the road if we hoped to reach the pools at low tide.

The difficulty rating of the the Trumbull Trail is a relative thing and despite reviews of it being easy ( rated a stroll in the park that young strong legs make it out to be) or moderate (rated by most middle of the pack hikers)but for an 81 year old 4’11” female it was an adventure that left me so acutely aware of the withering of my formally very strong Ironman legs despite the fact that I regularly do weights for leg strengthening. But with walking stick in hand, I was oft times sandwiched between Nick and Tasia to hopefully catch any forward or backward stumbling, skidding on loose gravel, missteps, trips or other lost footings. I have never been the most coordinated person nor been known for my graceful movements. For me it was a rough, somewhat punishing experience of a trail being outfitted with tripping roots and skidding rocks, lots of short steep up and down on a very narrow ribbon of gravel, rock and roots. I also have to admit that I did not have the wisdom to wear my hiking boots. The sign at the trailhead speaks a lot about the trail upkeep .

My walking stick worked overtime. I crept along like a determined little arthritic mountain goat and I lost track of how many times I nearly stumbled. But, Nick and Tasia were always there to provide emergency arm assists. Luke was my temporary hiking sherpa though I am sure he would have much preferred to be daypack free. I gratefully accepted any helping hand which was offered knowing I was not as spry and agile as I envisioned myself to be i.e. that vision is of a gazelle over the terrain. Thankfully the thick tree coverage shaded much of the trail but it also blocks almost any breeze. The sweat factor might be described as a full body drip exacerbated by my wearing SFP gear with long sleeves and long pants.

Many reviews of this hike suggested good footwear but heartbreakingly, mid-hike one of Nick’s old Merrill sandal straps snapped ( definitely not an ideal situation on a trail that would not be considered well groomed) . So he began joking about it, only to have a strap on the other sandal give out on the return trip. He the coined them as his “fop-flips. I am wondering if the next time I see him hiking with sandals if it will be the old Merrill’s “repaired” with string, twist ties and silver tape.

In short and succinctly put – rocks, roots, humidity, sweat . . . perfection! It was a great hike of 1 hr 30 minutes to the stony beach which would eventually lead to the tide pools. The round trip was a 4.25 mile workout.

I had to think twice about making the scramble over the lava rocks to the tide pools as I could see some very jagged rock and ledges which I would need to climb up and over to access the pool. This was flirting with danger such as a twisted ankle, a lacerating trip on the jagged lava rock, the choose-your-own adventure nature of the scramble, or a fracture of my osteoporotic bones… It would be a tough sweaty brutal carry out of my damaged body as there is no cell service and no easy rescue.

So I let my imagination run wild and decided that this could be just one bad step away from catastrophe (and for those who know me well, I tend to err on the side of reckless decisions) and opted to stay on the beach and piddle around in the sea gardens there. I also reminded myself that there was a repeat of the previous hiking adventure in reverse awaiting. Though disappointed in not getting to see the grand finale of this hike, I recalled that I had been to magnificent tide pools in Cannon Beach Oregon just last year.

The sun was intense and the marine gardens at the edge sea were intriguing. I plopped myself in the water with a rock as my backrest and sat mesmerized by the miniature pools of flickering water surrounding me. They were teeming with a variety of marine algae both glimmering pink-hued and brown algae looking like ruffled paper, shells, corals , black snails…

The family reappeared about and hour and a quarter later having had an exhilarating experience, though Nick did loose a bit of his dignity in an encounter with the lava obstacle course and was bemoaning the jarring his body took and the decorative lacerations on his appendages. Can we blame it on the “flop-flip? On the hike out from the beach we were all to glad to bail on the final section out to the official trail head, bypassing some of the jungle slog, and take the unofficial backdoor out to the car. The landscape changed from rocky sandy slopes to a “spa brochure “ walk through the Carambola Beach Resort.

With still a few hours remaining for adventure, Nick , Tasia, and I opted for a drive to the farthest eastern point on the island and the eastern most point of the US. The sole purpose was for me to say I had been to eastern most point in the US. It is a popular sunrise adventure but I did not feel compelled to be at the eastern most part of the US at sunrise. Luke and Miriam were of the mindset that a vacation is for resting and opted out. However it was much more than a bag another first experience. The vast ocean surrounded in every direction.

Point Udall was named in honor of the politician Stewart Udall in 1968. Topping this spot it is a geometric stone structure of spike-like pillars, the Millennium Monument. It is a modern looking stone compass built for the millennium to commemorate the dawn of a new century. It was the place to be on 01/01/2000 as the compass marked the azimuth of the first U.S. sunrise of that year.

After milling about for a bit, we saw the trailhead for the Jack & Isaac Trail. Needing to stretch my limits further with another hike, I was hoping my body would forget that I had already hiked today. The trail cut downward on a well worn relatively obstacle free path through windswept terrain similar to the tropical desert on Buck Island. As I trudged along what lay before me was stunning. The landscape of Issac and Jack’s Bays was a ribbon of white sand between the brilliant turquoise of water and the verdant greens of the hills. At the second egress for Isaac’s bay we doffed anything we did not want to get wet and plunged into this cool salty blue sea. Afterwards we hiked back partially on the beach. I was so grateful to have the energy to be able to experience the immersion into this postcard perfect scene.

There was one last adventure to be had which basically turned out to be a real dud. A walk to “Bio Bay” from our Judith Fancy VRBO was undertaken to hopefully experience the Salt River Bay glow. When the water is agitated the bioluminescent organisms (fireworms, jellies, and marine planktons) light up.I had seen this in the Florida Everglades and was anticipatory of a similar experience. I at first thought I saw the water light up but upon a closer look it was only the moonlight reflecting on the ripples. So Nick was glad to oblige us by wading in and agitating the water. Nothing. Throwing rocks, nothing. More agitation, nothing, So we eventually called it a day and meandered on back to our lodging.

Sucking Sea Water and Sun Sodden Schlepping

July 22, 2025July 22, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

We were departing for Gallows Bay, St. Croix from the Blyden Ferry terminal in St. Thomas ( a 40 mile trip) and arrived there with a fair amount of time to spare before our three pm departure. The terminal is definitely NOT fancy and decidedly HOT. We parked ourselves on the uncomfortable wooden benches and I could not help thinking this is more akin to a greyhound bus station in the wrong part of town rather than what my conception of a Caribbean cruise terminal would be like.

The QE IV is a high speed catamaran and as it plowed the Caribbean Sea on this relatively calm journey (per the captain, the swells were mild), I was grateful for this relative mildness. The slap of the water on the windows was very enlivening and definitely not of the sea sickness level. The vibrant soundtrack on this voyage was a mixture of the hum of the engines, the occasional creak, and the thump, splat, slap of a sheet of water as it flings itself against the window. WHAP and then it dribbles down the glass. Repeat for two hours.

Docking was at the Gallows Bay terminal in Christiansted ! By the time we collected our luggage and made our way roadside, there was not a livery service vehicle to be seen. We needed to pick up a rental car at the airport and had decided that since taxis charge per person, it was best that only Nick and I make our way there. Having had minimal luck ordering a taxi, the ferry captain arranged for an open-air taxi, aka “safaris” to come. Before long a regular taxi showed up and being opportunistic we hopped in it as there was no guarantee when the hypothetical safari vehicle would arrive.

I have had a Caribbean dreamscape over the years about it being a paradise in which I would be immersed in the salt-air, my skin kissed by the trade winds, and floating in turquoise waters above technicolor reef just offshore… a true tropical paradise. But upon arrival, the sun was intense and I was immersed in steam bath humidity. On the drive to the airport there were abandoned building, shuttered storefronts, crumbing facades, pot holed roads winding through scrubby vegetation… the scene definitely was not of the picture perfect postcard or the polished resort variety. The driver took us through the industrial area further dashing any preconceived notion I had about this being a carefree tropical island of unsurpassed beauty. In the area of Limetree Bay was the remaining skeleton of the original Hess oil massive refinery which went “dead” in 2021 because of toxic emissions, health concerns, foul odors, EPA violation resulting in devastating losses of jobs and an economic catastrophe .

Picking up the rental car, a 4-door Jeep Wrangler was seamless and Nick soon was behind the drivers wheel and getting used to the driving on the left-hand side of the pot-holed roads. I thought getting a jeep was basically a lark but in actuality a necessity given the roads. I had hope his long term memory of driving on the left in Australia was an asset and would kick in but since, unlike in the English tradition, with the steering column on the right , the steering column was in the normal American style on the left side adding another challenge on these narrow, rough and unpredictable roads.

Finally, gathering up the family at the ferry terminal, we made out way to our VRBO coined an “Island Vibe Retreat” in “Judith Fancy, ” a gated residential community built on the 18th century Judith Fancy Sugar Plantation. It was named after Judith, a free woman of color, and considered a prized and “stylish” manor i.e fancy . Ruins of the old sugar mill remain and were visible from the courtyard of the house. Similar ruins of many of the old rum and sugar plantations exist throughout the island.

This was a true Caribbean style indoor/outdoor living space with a large courtyard for dining . Off of this open-air central courtyard were 3 bedrooms with en-suites, (the only air conditioned rooms) a living room, dining room, kitchen. and laundry room all with their own separate locks and keys. From the front it would seem that this was a secure fortress but in reality one could access all of the rooms by going around the side or back. Hence, Luke became the keeper of the keys and had the sacred responsibility of opening and locking every single room every time we went out. Given that Luke can be highly anxious and extra cautious this job suited him well. A favorite spot was a rooftop patio, with its gentle breezes in the evening after the sweltering sun vanished below the horizon.

However, the main rooms did not scream calypso or reggae vibes and definitely were not of the Caribbean vibe. A striking painting that graced the living room definitely burst with color and emotion but in my mind did definitely not “fit” the Caribbean setting and I found it slightly unsettling and unnerving with its splattered streaked paint. It would best suited for a Miami art museum. I was relieved to spend all of my stay in the outdoor parts of the house as viewing it once was enough.

The premier event that I planned on St. Croix was a sailing and snorkeling excursion to Buck Island, described as a “marine garden” established by John F. Kennedy in 1961 and is designated a National Monument . It is a no-take marine protected area in the Caribbean Sea. Buck Island itself is physically protected by a flourishing elkhorn reef formed by elkhorn coral (branches fan out like the antlers of an elk and are brown in color.) With Captain Carl was at the helm, weathered by years of sailing under the Caribbean sun, and after an engine assisted sail out of the harbor on this 42-foot Trimaran (Teroro II), we sped towards our destination under sail power only. I note this because all the other companies going to Buck Island tend to use motorized vessels and I opted for the less polluting choice.

The sail was invigorating as Captain Carl pointed homes along a rocky headland, Pull Point, including one home frequently visited by Joe Biden that was owned by a longtime fiend of his and another where the physicist Robert Oppenheimer often stayed with friends …plus other interesting trivia. I would have been much more interested in learning about elkhorn coral and parrot fish than the vacation spots off famous people! The sea was various shades of blue and upon approaching Buck Island it took on that stunning turquoise color. Seems the recipe for this color palette is sunlight, water clarity, depth, and a white sandy floor! Anchoring on the western side of the Island, we would commence our first snorkeling adventure.

Our first stop was proximate to the underwater trail. Provided with snorkleing gear and with Captain Carl as our guide, we entered a shallow lagoon and followed a series of submerged plaques identifying surrounding marine life and coral formations. Sounds lovely and serene and it might well have been for the others. BUT, since I was not a skilled snorkeler, I was about to embark on a not so gentle glide through the water and definitely not an effortless and graceful adventure. My primary take away from this experience was definitely a lot of sputtering and choking on sea water.

Feeling quite fashionable in my mask and snorkel in my new swim togs, I finally managed to get the flippers on while bobbing around in the water and then, somehow miraculously, I was able to get the mask on my face and relatively water tight, thus avoiding bathing my eyes in sea water. I followed our group and guide towards the trail and naturally I was trailing the group and trying to keep up, see what was below, and keep an eye out for the red and white life ring being dragged forward by Captain Carl. Every time I saw an underwater marker I had this unconscious need to peer at it closer and plunged my face deeper and of course sucked in vast amounts of sea water. Not once, lesson learned, but several time over the course of the course!. I was desperately trying to enjoy this journey through coral gardens, grottoes and a reef teaming with marine life but secretly was glad that I did not get lost in a coral cavern and made it back to the boat.

I had resurrected my trusty Olympus waterproof and shockproof camera so I would capture dazzling the underwater world of tropical fish and coral. Seems I was better a capturing butts and flippers than fish. As for the fish, they remained a a speck in the distance.

Subsequently, we then sailed over to Buck Island’s Turtle Beach and had about 1.5 hours to spend there. Not one for lying on the beach and not wanting a repeat that snorkel experience again this day, I opted for hiking the trail on Buck Island with Tasia, Nick, and Luke. Forewarned about a massive bees nest at the trailhead which we thankfully avoided. and after picking our way across slimy rocks, the hike was short (1.28 miles) but also challenging as it winds up a dry rocky hillside through native vegetation including cacti, sea grapes and turpentine trees. I was surprised by the feeling that I was hiking in a wild, Caribbean desert and dry forest, something I did not associate with tropical islands. And as with desert hiking, by the time I reached the overlook it looked like I had opted for the bathing on the beach option. The path was narrow and a bit rugged for my tendency to find every “trippin” rock and root”but I did stay upright. . It was replete with buzzing insects and hermit crabs toting around there borrowed shells. Turk’s Cap Cactus were of special interest named for its red “cap” that resembles a Turkish fez and the crown sporting small tubular pink flowers.

Atop, the reward was stunning views of the reef, resembling a necklace surrounding the Island, rolling hills and the distant shoreline of St. Croix.. What a contrast this day was with both hiking over this cactus studded Island and swimming in coral garden teaming with marine life.

It ended at the beach with a short walk back to Captain Carl’s salt-sprayed sailing craft and a breezy ride “home” to relax, enjoy a simple dinner in the outdoor dining area , and then a short walk to a beach access near our VRBO. I had hope to dip my toes in the water as I imagined a tropical sandy beach but found it was rocky, coral strew and draped with a thick mat of seaweed (sargassum) to wade through. Not tonight. The view by night though from the beach of St. Croix glowing across the water however was quite a lovely site.