St. Lucia

Lush ... that's the word for this island. Such abundant flora. Multiple shades of green splashed here and there by the occasional flame of the Flambant tree. And so many mountain tops to catch the view from. St. Lucia is an island of variety: mountains, flatlands, rainforests, volcanoes, hot springs, pitons, banana plantations, picturesque fishing villages, spices galore, beaches, history, art, higher education, and, of course, tourism. And thanks to a terrific taxi driver called simply Anius, we saw it all.

We arrived at the "big" airport in the south and were treated to a one hour scenic drive up the east coast to Dennery, then across the island, right through the heart of the rain forest, to the east coast just south of the capital, Castries.

We stayed at Sandals - St. Lucia, an all inclusive resort, which included boating, snorkelling trips, tennis and even golf.

The beach and ocean: - lousy.
The room: - adequate.
The public areas and pools: - very nice.
The activities: - tops.
The entertainment: - so-so.
The bars: - excellent.
The staff: - very friendly and helpful.
The food: - outstanding, gourmet, world class.

We got there Monday at dusk, got the lay of the land on Tuesday, went on a snorkelling trip on Wednesday, deep sea fishing on Thursday (I caught this great big huge barracuda), and set out for an island tour on Friday with Anius.

He started with a brief urban tour including a bit if history (the island changed hands in the 1700's many times). The French built with the local black lava rock and the English tended to build with brick and mortar. Many of the old buildings still exist and you can see where the British repaired their own damage to the french buildings and vice-versa. Then higher up is the Eastern Caribbean University where the students have a great view of the city and ocean. What a campus!

Moving south through the banana plantations we came to a mirador overlooking the harbour of Marigot. A million dollar view.

As we continued along, Anius would stop spontaneously to let us see, touch, sniff, and taste local spices, fruits, and nuts. (Bay leaf, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace) At one point he plunged his thumb into a green pod, about the size of a small mellon, and pulled out a few chestnut-looking things from the fleshy inside. He called them bread nuts. Goats and chickens abound along the roadside. There is no speed limit here but you could rarely go faster than 30 mph safely.

We come to the fishing village of Anse La Raye. This is authentic - no yuppies here - they still use actual dugouts - granted with outboard motors on them. (They range far out to sea typically catching flying fish. Fish wings, anyone?) Proceeding across the one-lane bridge over the Grande Riviere De L'Anse La Raye, Anius points out, in jest, the "local laundromat" - and sure enough there were the village women scrubbing their wash on the river rocks.

Past Canaries, through the rain forest, up Mount Tabac and down the other side to approach the small bay-side town of Soufriere. We just had to stop to take in the view. It was fabulous.

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Later, in town, sitting at a shaded lunch table in The Still, our vista takes in the town, the beach, the bay mouth, the harbour, the yachts, the pitons (two perfect mountains), the steam from the sulfur springs, and the blanket of the forest holding it all together. It is no longer a view; it becomes a feeling.

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We visit the Botanical Gardens, Diamond Falls, and the Sulphur Springs but there's not enough time (2-3 hrs.) to climb the Petit Piton.

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On the return trip we come upon an accident (head-on) on the one-lane bridge at Anse La Raye and, I swear, the whole town showed up to have a look. It took longer to clear the crowd than the cars. There was even laundry left on the rocks. :-)

Anius got us back right on schedule at 5:30. Just enough time to clean up and head for yet another gourmet 5-course meal. What a great day.

The next day we went north to Pigeon Island (more history; beautiful beach) and checked out the town of Gros Islet. That area of the country seemed to be much more "settled".

Castries hosts as many as 5 cruise ships a day. It's a real tight harbour and there is a nearby airport. A plane could not go on "final" while a ship was entering the harbour.

The official language here is English but don't kid yourself. The Creole Patois spoken here by all the locals is probably as close to Parisian French as Quebecois. A local English-Patois translation book showed:

              GOOD MORNING    -    BOZU (BAW ZSH OO)

 ---  not that far off from the slang pronunciation of "bonjour".
And how do you say "thank you" in patois --- merci.

I was amused to see that whenever you'd see a cow, there would be a duck tending it. The white bird, with long neck and beak (not really a duck) would feed on the parasites that would otherwise plague the cow. The bird, white and clean, always standing in front of the cow, dark and dirty, always seemed to be in charge.

The people you meet on the street  ---  very friendly and approachable. And when they smile, they absolutely beam.

The old graveyard in Castries contains the main road and a virtual sub-culture of squatters' shacks built literally on top of the old tombs. Bizaar!

The beach at our resort is steep and faces almost due north. There is no protective reef and the prevailing winds are from the north. The waves would pound that beach with a force that would sometimes shake our bed. Carefree frolicking was out of the question.

The captain of the fishing boat suggested/recommended the Royal St.Lucia resort. It did look quite nice.

Did I mention that I caught a HUGE barracuda. It took all my strength to reel that sucker in. They said it was the biggest one caught that year (by anyone in a railroad hat :-).

On Sunday I walked into Castries. (That's when I took the graveyard picture.) Went downtown  ---  the proverbial village green. Just about got rolled for "just a few coins". Went to church. (Yes, I did, mom.) The whole island is about 78% Catholic. Couldn't hear the priest for the constant murmering. Walked up into the hills at the "back" of town. The streets are windey and narrow and steep and wet. Hundred dollar shacks with million dollar views. I was out a long time and I had to get back so I grabbed a hack. This spaced-out cabby had 2 gold teeth right up front. He talked nonsense all the way, and when we got there, he says, "You want to go anywhere you just ask for me. Everybody knows me". He grins with those 2 big gold teeth and hands me his card. Off he goes. I look at the card. It says,"Goldteeth Taxi". :-)

There's something about doors there that I didn't quite get. Front doors on houses are usually very well presented. But what blew me away was that many tumble-down shacks, that hadn't seen paint in decades, had finely finished cedar doors with beautiful half-moon windows in them and gleaming hardware. Very curious!

Old hulks of wrecked cars are abandoned at regular intervals along the roads. All roads. They are stripped of everything useful and just the steel shell remains. Clearly there is no market for scrap steel.

Cars are very expensive there. I'm told that a very basic car of 12 years old in good condition, costs about $12.000.00

Most houses are built on stilts because either it's wet and flat or dry and angled. I saw wooden poles supporting concrete block houses. I'm told that their attitude is; build it high, it's easier to expand down than up.

St. Lucia is an island located in the south east Caribean with Martinique 26 miles to the north and with St. Vincent 26 miles to the south. One of The Windward Islands. My Garmin GPS 12 MAP showed a surprising amount of detail for this tiny little place in the world.

That's about it. We went with another couple, Mike and Lynda. We ate and drank ourselves silly; had a wonderful time; and came home.

Oh, the trip home was horrible. First, we had to fly Royal. Second we got stuck in an row of 3 seats with a big fat guy who smelled bad. We were delayed for an hour on the tarmac with the engines off and no air conditioning. We breathed the primordial soup while being abused by a cantankerous old stewardess. The pilot flew slow deliberately all the way home (370 mph ground speed). I got on the plane healthy; got off it 7 hours later sick as a dog.

But the trip was grand. We loved it. St.Lucia is one beautiful place.

Terry Ryan
February 17/01.
A last look at Souf'.

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Anius and the Tour Taxi.

   The Pitons.

Our little beach resort.