Flotsam
Only a couple of days left, it’s gone so quickly. What will we miss ….
The people. So open, friendly and welcoming. A simple “Good Morning” or “Bonjou” at the bus stop or shop will start a conversation. “Where are you from?” …. “Do you like St. Lucia?” Before tackling the dreaded stairs up to the highway one evening we stopped for a beer at Sharon’s pub (had promised her ages ago that we would). As we sat sipping our Guinness with some of the locals, Terrance, a jolly businessman whom we’d met some days ago collapsed onto a barstool, gasping that he needed a drink. He rushed over and greeted us like long lost friends … introduced us to his cousin and her friends … then proceeded to tease us that he regularly saw us staggering up the hill after a couple of Pitons (beers). The tables were turned when an English couple jokingly did a ‘search’ of his name online and proceeded to ‘read’ an article about him having been arrested in the UK …. completely dead pan. The look of horror on Terrance’s face was a picture, and his cousin almost fell off her stool cackling with delight.
The bananas. Unbelievably flavourful and sweet – a far cry from the tasteless Cavendish ones back home. The skins are more delicate, however – making them unsuitable for export – other than to neighbouring islands.
The climate, of course, but even more so our view from the balcony.
Watching Atlantic Ghost Crabs on the beach. This little fellow was industriously cleaning his burrow right in front of us. Eyes on stalks give him a 360o field of vision … one eye would suddenly dip as he blinks to clean. He was building his tunnel a little too close to the water line, and waves would send him scuttling at the speed of light … diving into his burrow at the very last moment … only to reappear, wet and dishevelled … and having to start clearing his tunnel all over again. I could watch them for hours. https://1drv.ms/v/c/4271e9d208527f11/EXhiMOGamplAsAcnLKQTHwoBE2oAwElT-ELvxXW_vLVrrQ?e=qeolOS
Our neighbour’s billy goat. He’s usually on the other side of the yellow fence, weed-eating his way through the undergrowth, but this time he was greeting all passersby. He’s quite sociable… at least we haven’t been head-butted yet.
As we were walking on the beach one evening around 5pm, two fishermen with a large cooler full of freshly-caught Dorado (Mahi Mahi) and Tuna asked if we wanted some. Pretty soon locals and people staying in beach-front apartments showed up and he was doing a roaring trade. The fish — so fresh all you could smell was the sea — who could resist. He cleaned and filleted a small female Mahi Mahi for us and we had it less than an hour later for dinner. Magnificent. Only the males take on that Dolphin-shaped head, giving rise to their other name — Dolphin fish.
A horse ride one morning took in a shady trail through the mangroves … sweeping black sand beaches … and high, wind-swept cliffs with crashing waves. Past Calabash trees and large holes where the land crabs lived … through knee-deep ponds (horses’ knees, not ours) … with grassy hills and views of the Pitons in the distance. Because Yanik didn’t want us walking the 20 minutes back along the highway (which really wasn’t a hardship), he and Brandon insisted we rode into town in style. Too bad Zeb was not baking today, or we could have done our shopping on horseback! These two started their business back in 2017 and have 19 horses – offering 1 and 2 hour trips plus tours of local places of interest. It’s obvious they have a great rapport with the horses, and they’re fun, knowledgeable and very personable guides. A hugely enjoyable 2+ hours (maybe a little saddle sore the next day!)
Sadly, it’s time for us to leave. We’ve had great excitement and adventure over the last 6 weeks, but wonderfully lazy, sun-filled days of doing very little as well. Now, however, it’s time to trade in the puffer fish for puffer jackets … and return to a chillier north. Perhaps it won’t be long before Spring shows up ….