Travel of the Norte

Jet lag from the West to the East Coast should make it hard to get up early, but no, I decided to get up at 6 EST. So 3am my time. Why? So I could work out (ever so quietly in this cozy, creaky apartment!), make coffee, and wait several hours for the rest to get up.

We did get an OK start time though. We decided to stay somewhat local and see the Lower Manhattan area, starting with the 9/11 Memorial. It only took about 45 min to walk there, and we passed the first of many restaurant recommendations, which we had to try. Zucker's Bagels, and it was all about that smoked fish. We ate those in a park and continued on to the Memorial, passing by the Oculus Center along the way. 

I remember when I first saw this memorial. I found it so powerful and moving - literally to tears - a first. Though I have appreciated the memorials for other tragic events, this one was in my life, clear as day in my memory, painful as ever to look back at what it did to alter history. We found the museum was sold out for some hours, and opted to keep walking instead. 

We passed a church, the Wall Street bull, and the TriBeCa Festival which was going on in Battery Park. We enjoyed the history and the views.

It was getting really hot, and we all decided we could go for a nice breezy ferry ride, so boarded the Staten Island Ferry at Whitehall Terminal. It's a free ride and worth at least 3x that.

 The views from both the boat and the SI side were incredible, as was our experience at Flagship Brewing where we sampled everything, played bar games, and bought a twelve pack of their Italian Ice flavored hard seltzer. 

My first post-covid flight was also our first trip with our college friend, and the first time to New York for everyone but me. I myself have only been for work, and always for a conference in Times Square that kept me in that area for most of my time. I have gotten to venture out to many of the sites over the years though, including trips to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, the 9/11 Memorial, Chinatown, the Highline, the Brooklyn Bridge and Williamsburg, Coney Island, Yankee Stadium, and always, always Central Park. 

I didn't know how it would be traveling with this particular friend, since most of our time together has been spent barhopping or dorm room-style chilling at one of our homes, never on 'activities.' Her personality as I know it is decidedly indoor. She only has two cats, but embraces the label of Crazy Cat Lady, and so I will be abbreviating her to the CCL. Most of my experiences overnight with her involve me being ready to go freakishly early and she being a bit slower to get going. Knowing me, if I was in a brand new city with someone who moves slow or, Heaven forbid, gets hangovers, I would get anxious and annoying. And by would, I mean do. Have. Sorry Champaign! Sorry El Norte!

One thing was true for all of us on this trip - we were ridiculously excited for it. All of us quit work by noon Friday, drinking mimosas remotely and boarding our separate afternoon flights. CCL came from Seattle and we from SF, and we landed within 30 min of each other around 10pm. Still plenty of time to check out the neighborhood, even after the hour-long spendy Uber ride.

We stayed in an Airbnb in Soho, surrounded by brunchy cafes, clubby rooftops, cutesy dessert cafes. and the divey little pub we found. After grabbing three 99-cent slices, we stopped into Toad Hall for our first beers and said cheers to vacation. This beer is from SF, like us, but certainly got some NYC vibes on the can, and ultra refreshing too. Though it was only about 1am, we were tired and headed back to our place to crash. 

Our last days on the island were predictably uneventful. As soon as we had cleaned and unloaded the boat, and got that all returned, we took the noon ferry back to St. Thomas. We had an Airbnb for the night and supposedly flights out early the next morning. Naturally, because of COVID, our flight was canceled at the last minute. We hung out in various bars and cafes, luggage in tow, using the WiFi and trying to figure things out. Got rebooked on a different flight through Atlanta.

The joys of being out during the earliest of COVID lockdown include extra hospitality from establishments. Like this diabetes-inducing presentation.

Drinks were 2-4-1 for HH, so N ordered a painkiller and I a dark&stormy or some such thing. We didn’t each get one, we each got 2. Then, someone didn’t want 2x margs, so those came our way too. We ate some extremely weird sliders, saving one in a box and handing it to the first homeless guy who asked us for food money. 

St. Thomas itself seems to revolve around cruise ship traffic, which it didn’t have. There were tons of resort wear and jewelry stores, and very few were open. Bars were even more limited, causing us to eat 2 meals and happy hour at the same place pictured above. We did get to do some exploration on foot, passing by the outside of Captain Blackbeard’s Castle, and the lovely gardens below, featuring this statue of three women who led an insurrection against the exploitive Danish government.

After a sleepless night of constant rooster crowing, we had a quick and simple breakfast and headed to the airport. Unlike our other travel companions, we got through security quickly, only to discover our flight to Atlanta had been moved to the following day. We despaired at the thought of having to spend another day just whiling away the time with nowhere open to go, but it was easier than ever to get moved to a different airline, fly through DC, and make it home a couple hours ahead of our original schedule. 

When I woke up at the marina in Road Town, I was hung over. Luckily, it was also the roughest sea we had yet faced. Even better, half the crew had already departed because of the ‘Rona. 

The sail to Norman Island seemed quite a lot more wretched than the first time we took that path. That was the first day of our trip, with an amped up, cheerful crew. Now, it is one Captain and three others trying to make the best of a day in BVI, and at least one of us trying to hold down breakfast. The Captain had to Captain, Norte had to do stuff with the sails, and though I struggled mightily, I did my part to tie up to the mooring ball.

I can’t complain. It is in fact quite easy to make the best of a day in BVI. On the first day of our trip, we had moored in Kelly’s Cove, home of Willy T’s. On this last day, we were in The Bight, home of this glorious Pirate’s Bight beach bar and snorkeling spot. The most glorious part of all was seeing the turtles dining on sea grass on the left side of the beach.

After snorkeling I took a walk by myself up to a viewpoint at the north side of The Bight. I thought I might be able to see over to Soldier Bay and Benures Bay, but the trail didn’t quite crest the hill.

After a fairly unsatisfying night at Leverick Bay, we were up early the next morning to immediately sail away from it. Sorry Leverick, it's not you, it's the ‘Rona.

We actually didn't sail away. We motored all the way back to the Marina on Tortola. Half the party was going to the airport to see if they could evacuate this place before COVID closures set in. The other half of us waited around on the boat. I went to shore and worked out a bit since there was a lot of time, and I could get some sort-of privacy for it.

After making lunch on board we learned the other half was probably going to stay at the airport all afternoon, and made the decision to call a cab out to one of the beaches on the North side of Tortola, Smuggler's Cove. After waiting about 45 min for the first cab, and drinking all the beer we had packed, we called another, and were shortly on our way, new beers in tow.

The drive was quite glorious, circling clockwise around Tortola, through Road Town, past marinas, beaches, and a steaming trash pit, over the hills and down into an absolutely perfect cove. The weather was touch and go, switching between full sun and light rain. Snorkeling was tough with the strength of the waves.

The bar was one of the best things about this particular stop. We had fun chatting with the other patrons and especially the proprietor Nigel. First he gave us a hard time for sitting on the beach chairs without ordering drinks, then he gave me a hard time for finishing that first painkiller too quick and coming back for more. But we had a fun conversation, and he told us where to go out in Road Town that night.

We tried, but it wasn't to be. The Other Half who'd been at the airport all day was understandably not in the mood. The bar Nigel suggested was hard to find. Then, it was not a 'dance club' as we imagine it, but a strip club. I wasn't willing to pay cover, and I could tell some of the group was uncomfortable in general. After all, they work together. Not that this usually stops people, but maybe coworkers AND their wives is a different story.

Our third day at sea gave us the highest highs and the lowest lows. 

First thing in the morning, we set sail from Cooper Island to a national park called The Baths on Virgin Gorda. We got a mooring ball, threw snorkels and cameras into the dingy, and then tied that up directly to a buoy line and swam to shore. 

It was a completely different shoreline than any beach I’d ever seen. Soft sand dotted with huge boulders. These formations continued out into the water, creating perfect little fish shelters and snorkeling opportunities. We followed the trail, which eventually became fully enclosed by rock. 

I’ve been in plenty of caves, but I’ve never seen anything like the Baths at Virgin Gorda. You have to crouch down and crawl and sometimes swim to get through, but you’re never in a dark cave. There is always bright Caribbean sun streaming through and soft sand underfoot. I didn’t know this was coming, and I was completely blown away by it!

We emerged from the rocky trail to another spectacular beach, but didn’t have time to lounge as half our group had split off and was waiting for us at the hilltop bar. The trail up from the beach to The Top of The Baths bar and restaurant was just as beautiful as the rocks. There’s a crazy mix of tropical flowers and cacti, and of course the view gets better and better as you climb. Our meal at the Top of the Baths was quite good. N and I split Roti and Plantains. But, the attitude of the group as a whole was shifting. Half had been waiting and impatient to get going to the next stop, and people were starting to worry about the COVID news. We rushed back to the boat a little more urgently than I would have liked, as the view was still blowing me away. This is the last photo for the day, as the rest isn’t worth looking back on.

Four of our party had flights out of Tortola, in BVI, while the Captain and Wife, N and I were leaving from St. Thomas in USVI. As we sailed toward Leverick Bay, everyone leaving from Tortola received messages that their flights were canceled. There was no alternative presented, so they were now extremely eager to get to our mooring ball at the bay on the North side of Virgin Gorda. They needed to get on WiFi and figure out their next moves.

N learned something about himself on day 2 of a weeklong sail. He gets seasick.

So yesterday wasn’t just a hangover, or if it was, it was an epic one that crossed the boundaries of a single day. This morning, after a whole day of rest, he tried a little breakfast, and immediately threw it up. I found the Dramamine and that seemed to help. 

We all dingied to shore for our SCUBA adventure. There were 8 of us, and we believed we had 5 spots. N decided to sit out because of his delicate condition. All three of us girls were offering to sit out too, and basically fighting over who wouldn’t. I was offering for the sake of keeping N company while he snorkeled. Plus the Captain’s Wife seemed a little interested, though trepidatious, and the Late Addition said she wanted to, though I feared she was being pressured. In the end, neither of them did it, and I got to take one of the spots.

When you SCUBA without certification, you go through a very standardized training. Having done it just a month before, everything was easier for me to understand this time around. We did the practical dive at the beach, not a pool, and I found it easier anyway. 

We had a boat ride from Cooper Island out to neighboring Salt Island. We believed we were going to a shipwreck, but it was actually just a reef. JUST a reef. I actually loved it. It was less colorful than the Great Barrier Reef, to be sure, but a protected sea compared to the open ocean was just so much more relaxing. In Australia, I was being pulled around by the current and our guide. Here, I was in control. And it wasn’t me this time who panicked as we got ready to descend, it was some other guy. And he actually quit, where I had just longed to. 

After SCUBA I was truly exhilarated. I wanted to celebrate. Everyone else wanted to sleep. I tried to work out on the boat discreetly, but learned that’s impossible. Eventually, everyone was ready to go drink. It’s St. Patrick’s Day, after all!

Sleeping onboard a boat isn’t so bad when you just pass out. I slept long and hard the first night in Kelly’s Cove. Well, maybe not long. I was probably up at 7, and the Captain and First Mate were already planning the day. I knew it was gonna be a lucky one, because we saw this full rainbow as Iz’ song about them happened to play on whoever’s Spotify station.

We made some coffee and some scrambles and decided on taking the dingy out to The Caves, a popular snorkeling spot. The dingy had other plans, and after at least 45 minutes of trying to start it, we gave up and called the Charters. 

El Norte was sick, but he’s a sailor, so he dragged himself above deck and did his job. We untied and sailed over to another snorkel destination, The Indians. The Charter guy was going to meet us there to check the dingy and we were happy to spend the afternoon snorkeling in this amazing spot. I had just been on my first SCUBA trip a month ago and here I was marveling at the all the life teeming just below the surface. You may not be as immersed when snorkeling, but you get so much color!

Once Charter Guy had confirmed that the dingy was fine and we were all idiots, we set sail once again. Captain’s Wife and I made sandwiches en route and we had a quick lunch after mooring at Cooper Island. We took our perfectly-fine dingy ashore and spent the afternoon lounging on the beach, snorkeling more, tasting rum and setting up a dive trip for the next day. Yes! A month after my first dive trip I will be going again! Somehow equally nervous to the first time.

Today we will start our very first live aboard sailing trip with 3 people we know and 3 we don’t. Got up bright and early to get there as early as possible, after the daunting task of provisioning for 8 people whose eating habits I can’t predict. 

Both of us have that eager-to-please, afraid-to-offend mentality that meant we spent too much time, too much money, and bought too many things. We managed to tuck them all away in the boat’s genius storage nooks, and we set sail!

A Captain from the charter company sailed with us as far as Brandywine cove, where he taught us to anchor, moor, and lower the dingy. Then Our Captain dropped off Their Captain at a dock, and on his way back, somehow lost his wedding ring. It vanished into the sea grass in the shallows of the cove. Five of us searched through the grass, being stung by god-knows-what, for some time before giving up. Uh oh, Captain’s Wife says her uncle lost his wedding ring in BVI, and 20 years later got divorced. I told her she still has quite a while with him then.

That night we were planning on having a chill evening aboard the boat, but instead we went full on drunken sailor with a night at the famous Willie T’s. We had sailed over to Norman Island, and searched for a parking spot in The Bight and Kelly’s Cove before finally finding a mooring ball in the latter. It was late to cook dinner, we were fearing we were going through the beer too fast, so we took the dingy out to this floating bar / restaurant. There were some birthday parties and some blunts being passed. We went straight for the food and the painkillers. Lots of em. El Norte jumped off the top deck, not once but twice. Video documentation failed. I myself chickened out, siting temperature, though the liquid jacket should have been sufficient.

It was a train-plane-taxi cab-AND ferry kind of day, starting with a red eye from SFO to JFK, and then down to St Thomas, in the US Virgin Islands. 

While waiting for the ferry, we tried our first painkiller, meaning he did and I stole some. I had a Bloody Mary. The ferry ride was hot, and we eavesdropped on a huge group of Canadian girls traveling with their ringleader who had apparently lived in BVI at one point. Customs at Tortola was slow, especially with added health checks for this virus that is going around... A global pandemic that ended up shaping our trip into something different entirely than we had planned.

But we made it through. We walked about 10 minutes to the saddest hotel, with the absolute saddest front desk girl, and with a dusting of hair from the last guest’s shave on the bathroom counter. It used to be a fort, first Dutch, then English, and about 300 years later, converted into this treasure.

We needn’t spend time in it so we don’t care. We walk the length of Road Town, stopping at a BBQ food truck we had passed near the ferry dock for the jerk chicken they had advertised. It was good, but not as good as the brisket alongside it. The box, a single meal, must have weighed 4 lbs. So late lunch converted into early dinner and dinner converted into tropical drinks at one of the few open establishments, on the cruise terminal.