U.S. Virgin Islands: From Saint to Saint

The morning brought a sunny view of land and water, and I got to see a cruise ship threading its way between the islands that guard Charlotte Amalie's harbor. I later got to see the ship's tourists: in the jewelry souk, of course. Following a nice breakfast on the patio at Galleon House (home cooked and thankfully not a buffet!), I headed off to the city cemetery (my hobby). I had passed it on the taxi ride into town.  Burial vaults are all above ground, sometimes stacked three high.  In fact, even the single-story vaults have ribars on top, suggesting they are ready to expand upward. Above ground burial is necessitated by the water table at this low elevation.  As the land rises to meet the adjacent neighborhood, however, some graves are below ground. There is nothing commercial about the appearance of the memorials. Most are simply concrete vaults, usually painted white, with some Caribbean colors showing up here and there. Inscriptions have typically been hand-etched in wet concrete, and there is very little granite in sight. The dates are often prefixed by 'Sunrise' and 'Sunset,' reminiscent of New Orleans. The most polished and least interesting memorials were the VA-supplied headstones for veterans. What life there is in this cemetery is provided by the tree lizards, which dart around everywhere. All over these islands, they are as common as insects.

The Galleon House couldn’t take me for another night, so I hit the road to Red Hook, on St. Thomas’s East End. Red Hook is the site of a yacht harbor, and, more importantly, the ferry landing that links St. Thomas to St. John ($7 each way). I had half an hour until the next ferry left, so I spent an hour and a half looking around Red Hook. (Yes, you read that right: I missed the 1 pm ferry). There is a new Senior Frog’s in Red Hook, which suggests there is not much to see. In one of the street-side shopping centers, though, I did find something I was looking for: an optometrist. I had been thinking about getting new glasses for at least six months, so why not on St. Thomas? How many residents of Virginia Beach can say their optometrist is in the Virgin Islands? As I was to learn, Dr. Friedenberg grew up in Richmond and arrived on St. Thomas the year I moved to Virginia Beach, 1980. It was meant to be.  The doc took me in right away, gave me an eye exam, wrote a prescription, and sold me a pair of glasses, all done on Caribbean time. We will see if I the lenses are back for me to pick up before I return stateside. The downside:  I missed the 1 pm ferry. So, I just caught the next one.

After a rainy morning, the sun came out and proved to be a perfect perfect companion for the 4-mile ferry ride to Cruz Bay on St. John.  Most of the island's 20-square miles is a national park, and there are well under 5,000 residents.  I had already formed some opinions about the island: The people of St. John were friendly; the town of Cruz Bay was nicer than anything on St. Thomas; and living conditions were better than anywhere in the Virgins. Whenever I told someone I was on my way to St. John, these were the appetizers they fed me. Thanks to Dr. Friedenberg's advice, the first thing I sought out was Connections, which was a post office/internet point/bulletin board/tourist information center/and more, all in one. There was nothing like Connections on St. Thomas: but there should be.  The busy women behind the counter spent a lot of time trying to find me a place to stay. For a while, it seemed hopeless. There was nothing in town and maybe nothing out of town. Everything: fully booked. But, finally, the Noreaster that hit the Northeast worked in my favor. A cancellation meant that there was an opening, but I would have to travel five miles out of town to the north shore of the island.

Most of St. John is occupied by the Virgin Islands National Park. I wish even more of the island were protected. As you pull into Cruz Bay, the island’s chief town, you can see the housing frontier moving up the hillsides: everybody wants a view of the sea. An expansion of the National Park would stop that, but it is probably already too late. Nevertheless, so much of the island is protected that St. John will never succumb to debilitating development the way St. Thomas has. As you leave Cruz Bay on one of the 12-to-20-person safaris (shared taxis) that congregate around the ferry landing, you pass almost immediately into VINP and then across the islands's mountainous spine and downhill to the Atlantic. I was heading to Cinnamon Bay, a section of the national park where there was a campground. That’s where there was an opening. I was promised a tent for two nights thanks to some poor family (probably from Boston) who a had to cancel their reservation.  Everyone on St. Thomas and St. John was talking about the cold, snowy weather up North. 'Polar Vortex' entered the island vernacular while I was there.  A large part of the visitors here seemed to be from New York and New England, and many were repeat customers. Campers and cottagers from Germany and Scandinavia were common, too.

Tent #2 (with my orange shirt drying outside) was in the woods, but only about 300 feet away from Cinnamon Bay beach. As I arrived, the day trippers were leaving and the concessions closing. Despite the fact that I had no electricity in my tent, only the promise of an internet signal at the check in area, and nothing to eat but the cheese and crackers I bought in Cruz Bay, I proclaimed myself lucky to be in such an enchanting place. I bought a flash light (regretting I has deliberately left mine at home just to lighten my pack) and proceeded to the so-called restaurant (an open-air pavilion which eventually did fill up) just so I could get something to drink while I charged my computer and camera for the day to come. Before the night ends, I may also hear some African drumming. The day began on St. Thomas and ended on St. John. In my tent, I slept peacefully. Not even the mosquito corps dive bombers disturbed my slumber.