British Virgin Islands: Road Town and Spanish Town

Speedy’s operates an international ferry from St. John to Tortola, which is to say from the US to the UK.  Yes, you cross an international frontier, your passport is checked (and stamped with the number of days you are allowed to stay), and customs duties are assessed if needed. I just assumed the ferry went to Road Town, the principal town of Tortola, but I was wrong. It went to West End, which is not really a town, but a landing site, which is to say the ferry drops you off in the middle of nowhere. A few open-air safaris were stationed around the terminal, though, so $12 bought me on a scenic ride into town.  It was Sunday. Nothing was open on Tortola, and I didn’t have a place to stay.  As I stepped out of the taxi, I asked the driver to point me toward a hotel.  “Jump back in,” he said. Around the corner he took me to the A&L Inn ("an oasis in the heart of Road Town") right between main street and the traffic circle, which was still decorated for Christmas. Up on the second floor, I found the son of the owner taking care of business, as if there were any on a Sunday morning. I got right into a room, and back out I fled.  Great room, but I wanted to see as much as I could. First impression of Road Town: I liked it. In fact, it looked more like a real town than either Charlotte Amalie or Cruz Bay.

I hit the waterfront, which was all but closed down for the day. The yacht hands were around, however. It was their day off, a day to begin congregating by mid-morning, a day to guzzle rum, the classic drink of the cane-growing Caribbean islands.  They were a happy bunch, and invited me to have a drink with them. (Won't say whether I did or not!) They weren't really in charge of the harbor, but said that, of course, I could wander up and down the piers and gawk at the yachts. Tomorrow, they would be out on the sea, along with lots more yacht hands, I suspect. Road Town has a huge harbor, and lots of the them need crews.

Road Town is also the territorial capital of the British Virgin Islands. Government House is right on the water. The security officers listed my choices for lunch. Only three eateries were open. I had jerk chicken barbeque, and was left with most of the day to fill.  Since nothing was doing in Road Town, I hopped the ferry to Virgin Gorda ("Fat Virgin"). Before I knew it, I was disembarking at Spanish Town, the first capital of the British Virgins. There I found yet another yacht harbor and little else, not even a real town. Two angels were soon to appear, however. Do you believe in angels?  On Tortola, I had already met two: that safari driver who dropped me off at the A&L, and the son of the Methodist minister who gave me a lift back to the hotel after my early lunch.  Here on Virgin Gorda, I met two more.  One, a tourist, was walking along the road leading away from the harbor:  he on one side, me on the other. Across the road I headed. "Where's the town?" I asked in my naeievity.  "This is it," was the reply. He was walking, so I asked what he had been doing. Coming back from The Baths at Devil's Beach. Not far, said he, about 40 minutes walking time. Even though I was thinking about my 6 pm ferry (last one of the day), off I went toward one of the three national parks on the island. Yes, I was off to another national park, but this one British.  Now for angel #4: Two young guys in nice cars were talking by the side of the road. Hoofing it was taking too long, so I made the offer. "I'll give you $5 if you drive me to The Baths." One agreed, and soon I was there.  At the end of the trip, he actually declined the money, but I gave it to him anyway. It was Sunday, and I had been lifted up on angel's wings four different times. When I got to the park entrance, the first thing I did was make arrangements with a taxi driver there to take me back to the ferry landing when I was finished! Second thing I did was pay my $3 and enter the park.

I loved it. For this, I would come back. The Baths are a boulder field right along the coast. To get from Spring Bay to Devil's Bay (with their scenic beaches), you climb over, duck under, and jot around the boulders, while wading through the pools and ducking to get into and out of the caves.  It's fairly isolated, and sometimes you are all alone! Really cool. It was the granite that I couldn't figure out, however.  On my geologic mental map, granite does not belong on the coast of the Leeward Islands; it's a rock of continental origins. In fact, granites are the buildings blocks of the continents, and Virgin Gorda is not a continent.  I will research this later.  For now, though, climbing, wading, and shutterbugging are going to have my full attention.