Lest anyone get the impression that it's all about the booze, I never let a buzz get in the way of my responsibilities as Galley Wench. While I do all the provisioning, cooking and clean-up for meals and drinks afloat (it's a trade for getting out of the boat chores -- I'd much rather make bacon than check the oil), I also coordinate meals ashore. We did all breakfasts aboard (cereal, yogurt and granola, bacon and eggs) with the occasional bagel on land, with most lunches on board and a couple of dinners. For lunches, I lean towards tortilla wraps (easy to handle on a boat, tortillas keep better than bread), though we did have barbecued chicken one day, and the forbidden pleasure of hot dogs another. An attempt to eat chef salad one day was a mess, as the wind kept picking up lettuce leaves and depositing them all over the cockpit and fellow crew. Dinners usually feature grilled meat (steaks, jerk pork).
Ashore, we mixed it up between tried-and-true American-inspired food, and forays into down-island food. We tested chicken wings at just about every place we ate, as they are a favorite of TJ's (no clear consensus winner, though Pusser's is in the lead), while Rick and I tested conch fritters (the Soggy Dollar wins on this trip, though I will maintain an overall preference for those at De Loose Mongoose, which we didn't visit this trip). At C&F our first night, I ordered my favorite curried conch appetizer (melt-in-your-mouth tender), and eschewed -- as I always do -- barbecued chicken or pork for grilled whole fish.
Our meal at Myett's was quite memorable. The setting was, as always, lovely. Somehow, the northeasterly winds hadn't penetrated Cane Garden Bay, and it was almost calm here (though I was not convinced that it would have been a good overnight anchorage as I watched the few masts in the bay swaying back and forth). Sunset here is always a treat for the eyes, offering up layers of color. The restaurant itself, while squarely on the beach, is also apart from it, cocooned in a grove of sea grape trees. It was, however, the food that made the evening so noteworthy. I ventured off the main menu onto the specials page; at the very bottom was an offering of curried mutton, which the description made clear was NOT lamb, but goat.-- I couldn't resist, and was rewarded with tender chunks of meat (with bones) in a rich brown curry sauce. This you definitely can't have at home!
Our last night's meal was at Pirate's, in the Bight at Norman Island. I had read that there are attempts being made to make the menu upscale to match with the tenor of the planned development on the island. As such, the menu was a combination of casual beach food, as well as high-end continental stuff (beef Wellington, rack of lamb). We sampled both ends of the spectrum, and found that they were done reasonably well, though noted that the Island Time pace of service did not match the food. As a natural destination for last night dinners, there was a number of charter groups celebrating the end of their cruises, so the atmosphere was rocking. It was only a matter of time before we found ourselves barefoot on the dance floor.
Our final BVI meal was at the ferry dock at West End. We had a few minutes before our ferry to get some lunch, but Rick and I passed on the ladies offering something (under foil) outside the door, as well as the lunch counter just across the parking lot (there was a line). We walked a little further to a place called Rocky Willow. The food was behind glass, under a heat lamp clearly not made on the premises. We were the only people in the place and ordered up a chicken roti and a conch pattie. Both were fantastic -- the roti made with all parts of the chicken (no bones, though), not the tame chicken-breast-only versions offered up for tourists. The conch patties was savory and full of tender conch meat. It definitely pays to walk a little on the wild side.
Cruise Ships: Here, There and Everywhere
This trip was our first ever at the peak of high season. While we'd encountered cruise ships at other times of the year, they were out in full force this trip, with at least one ship in Roadtown or elsewhere every day. I realize that the topic of cruise ships is the subject of fierce debate, and I recognize that everyone has the right to travel in the manner they see fit. However, the cruise ships, and the masses of people they drop on locations not equipped to handle them, infringes on my right to travel in the British Virgin Islands in the manner I see fit, and has me rethinking whether the BVI -- especially in high season -- is a place that is right for me.
The early morning light shows off the magic of The Baths. But, if you are a late sleeper, you'll not only miss the golden light of the morning, you'll also share The Baths and Devil's Bay with conga lines of daytrippers and loads of t-shirt vendors.
Some examples. On our first full day of sailing, we made a special effort -- we even set an alarm -- to arrive at the Baths in the early morning, to ensure getting a mooring and having some relative peace at the Baths. But as we made the passage from Marina Cay to Virgin Gorda, we could see the "sail-assisted" Club Med 2 already making its way to Spanishtown, where it anchored just offshore. We did have a bit of quiet time at the Baths; after all, it is a place that inspires awe and communion with nature. To me, it demands the reverential hush that a cathedral does. Yet it wasn't long before the daytrippers arrived, dozens upon dozens of them making a slow-moving conga line through the Baths with their guides loudly describing the site and their chattered conversation breaking the silence, forcing us to stand in lines we didn't bargain for. The magic evaporated.
The episode at Bomba's, where we felt like museum exhibits in the peering eyes of the safari bus passengers was a real turn-off. But the scene at Cane Garden Bay the next day was even more disappointing. We had gone to Rhymer's for lunch, knowing to expect an invasion, but not appreciating how disruptive it really was. The roads and parking lots were filled with safari buses (one had parked us in at Soper's Hole marina, and rather than moving, forced Rick to maneuver out of his spot with barely an inch to spare). We took a seat at Rhymer's with a beach view, but the beach was covered with lounge chairs which were filled with bodies. This is the beach scene I came to the BVI to escape; if I want crowds like that, I've got Ocean City. The daytrippers trooped in and out of Rhymer's to get to the beach or use the restrooms, but with the exception of one pair who bought some drinks, did not stop to spend a penny or acknowledge or greet the people working there. In this case, instead of being zoo exhibits, the denizens were invisible.
Crowds at Cane Garden Bay: not what I had in mind.
At White Bay, the cruise ship launches drop boatload after boatload of their charges right in front of the Soggy Dollar. Luckily, they all walk right on by the bar and head to the end of the beach, where they congregate in great clots. Seemingly, they are waiting to take turns on ATVs, where, decked out in matching helmets, they noisily traverse the twisting roads of Jost Van Dyke. While I delight in the sight of goats, donkeys and roosters on the roads, the sight of a centipede of ATVs is just too jarring and unnatural on this tiny otherwise-idyllic island.
Trip Summary
Our trip left me with mixed feelings. Of course, the weather cannot be blamed on the BVI, so I keep that separate from my other thoughts. There were, as always, many great experiences. Over the many visits we've had to the BVI, they have grown familiar and beloved. But, changes are inevitable, and they may not coincide with our own wishes for a place. We'll stay tuned to see how things develop.
