Carambola beach

Flash floods subsided, sunshine returns. October and it is 85 degrees. For us, this seems a long, lingering summer. Weekend days spent, where else, the ocean.

St. Croix beaches are public, unlike St. Thomas, for example, which only has one public beach and all others require usage fees.

One beautiful beach sun seekers may visit is Carambola beach home to the Carambola beach resort. Named for the locally grown five-sided fruit, the carambola (or known state-side as star fruit), this stretch of beach lies on the sparsely populated northwest coast. At the end of a curvy, mountainside road Carambola beach forms a semicircular cove of quiet sand among the rocky cliffs. Bordered by lush tropical forests and mountains, Carambola beach creates the illusion of island isolation. (photo 1)

Bathers enter the beach on the far west end near the base of a mountain to avoid spiny urchins hiding amongst the reefs. Note the lack of fellow swimmers: discounted rates and reduced traffic are two bonuses to traveling during the off season. (photo 2)

Although maybe not the best place on island to snorkel, the beach chairs, hammocks, and beautifully manicured resort make a day at Carambola a perfectly lovely day at the beach. (That’s what Chuck says, anyway, photo 3)

While I cannot attest to the lodging at Carambola, I can confirm that the menu features a mighty tasty conch fritter with coconut sauce. Weekend nights feature sumptuous buffets with live entertainment. To find out more, visit Carambola Beach Resort.

Stranded Part 3--Goats on the Loose

No power this morning. The electricity ceased sometime early this morning before our alarm sounded at 6:30 p.m. The rains create swells to yesterday’s levels, so the main road was passable. Good thing, because I had to visit the Department of Revenue located mid-island to complete some business related to our move.

While taking our dog, Chuck, out for his morning walk, I learned from neighbors that the water was out now, too. A generator keeps the water pumps working once the current goes. The transmission in said generator burned up more than likely from overuse during the pass couple of days. “You can use water from the pool (located in the center of the condo complex) to flush,” a neighbor yelled.

About six hours later and after I’d decided a dip in the pool was all the bath I would get today, the power and water returned. I jumped in the shower and readied to visit the Department of Revenue. On the way the rains picked up and roadways filled. I made to the office, located behind the Sunny Isles shopping center (see yesterday’s post).

In the lobby a crowd was gathered opposite the door. A herd of brown and tan goats, wet and shaking, had gathered under the eaves of the Department of Revenue and huddled against the south facing glass wall.

From the upstairs waiting/cashier area, I could see the loading dock area of K-mart where a pond was beginning to form. One lone goat was attempting to cross the lawn toward the others.

I filed my paper work and hurried downstairs with the plan to call animal control about the wet and frightened goats. Once outside, the goats were no where to be found. With water rising and herds of goats disappearing, I decided I needed to get home quick.

Later that evening as the drizzle continued, I relayed the story of the goats to a St. Croix native. He explained that the shopping center and government offices had been pastureland before development, “in their defense, the goats were there first.”

Others navigating the storm: photo 1, man in golf cart is sideways on underwater service road, note flooded golf course behind him; photo 2, gekos usually stay at bug level on our back porch, this one scrambled to the ceiling to avoid water; photo 3, white heron thrilled that this maintenance compound is flooded creating a new feeding ground for him.

Stranded--part 2

Day 2 Flash floods and no power

Power ceased early this morning as a torrential downpour and thunderstorm boomed outside. We readied by hurricane lamp unaware of the storm damage.

Our driveway out of the neighborhood where we live was flooded this a.m. and we were not able to exit to the main road. A deluge of rainwater covered the roadway, eroding the shoulder and spilling over into a usually tranquil pond. Any car attempting to cross the road risked floating away into the now swirling pond. (photo 1--driveway the day before when still passable)

A bottleneck developed as residents attempting to go to work debated the flooded crossing. A gentleman in a gleaming Excursion generously offered that if my husband and I would go first in our Jeep Wrangler that if stuck, he would pull us out. Rather than end up as fodder for dummy of the day on the evening news, we decided instead to back track.

Eventually we made it out of the complex on a service road used by maintenance men and the garbage truck. The little paved drive was completely covered by water and had become the bedrock for a rushing stream, but not too deep to be passable.

En route to work my husband mused that we were probably just overwhelmed because we are new residents. Blasé locals would snicker at us. Then we noticed a local man video taping the storm damage. This was not, we learned, typical.

I have no Internet service at home (not available) so I take advantage of a hot spot at a café just up the hill. The night manager there said she’s lived her entire life on St. Croix, She’s lived through hurricanes and never experience such flooding. Roadways becoming rivers with tree limbs, coconuts, chunks of asphalt—all swept away.

It’s not a tropical storm; it’s a low pressure system that has settled. In short, a rain cloud is squatting over the island and shows no sign of departing. (photo 2--brief lull in storm)

Stranded--part 1

If one lives on a tropical isle, one should be prepared to be stranded. . .

The longest power outage yet, (again I’ve only been on island a month an a half) occurred yesterday. Previous power outages lasted only an hour or so; however, yesterday’s lights out stretched from 1 p.m. on Tuesday to about ten minutes after 9 a.m. on Wednesday.

Besides the inconvenience of having an electric stove and worrying about overheating milk in the refrigerator, the greatest torment results from lack of circulating air when ceiling fans are silenced. St. Croix experiences two seasons: wet and dry. October is part of the wet season complete with humidity and mugginess. (see minor flooding on golf course near our home photo 1)

Our temporary lodging is located in a valley and does not reap the full benefits of trade winds that residences in higher elevations do. While we refrain from using the air conditioning, since electrical costs are exorbitant, ceiling fans are a must have to remain comfortable.

The outage affected only a small area, lucky us, so we were able to buy a supper of kingfish and stewed chicken at a local West Indian restaurant. We mulled over the idea of seeing a movie at the Sunny Isle shopping center, the local retail heartbeat and general traffic snarl of the island, but decided instead to return home and light the hurricane lamps. (photo 2)

A generator is a necessity here. Short-term outages occur with some frequency, I’ve been told. Should a hurricane make land fall, one may be without power for some time. A local resident told us that post Hugo she was without power for 6 months.

I am surprised that the island has not invested in either wind or solar power or both because of the high cost of traditional power. However, I do not know how wind turbines or solar panels fair in tropical storms. I’ll be curious to learn if any other islands use these methods.

Introduction

What is life really like on a tropical isle? Azure beaches, palm trees, sun, sand and surf…the consummate daydream.

A scant month ago, I gained the opportunity to live that dream.

An occupational transfer prompted our relocation from urban America to an island in the Caribbean. My husband and I, dog, Chuck, and cat, Gus, moved from the heart of Washington, DC to St. Croix, twice the land mass of the District of Columbia and a little more than one-tenth the population.

Welcome, to a new continental’s (a common reference to state-siders) perspective on life in “America’s Paradise.”

St. Croix is the largest of the U.S. Virgin Islands with two main towns: Christiansted on the northeast and Fredericksted on the west coast. Farther south than the other Virgin Islands, (U.S. and British) St. Croix lies about two-thirds of the way down the archipelago. The chain of islands begins with the Bahamas at the north and ends with Trinidad at the south, just off the coast of Venezuela.

Before moving to St. Croix, I visited neither the Caribbean nor any other island destination and, thus, have no frame of reference for comparison. We consulted guide books and questioned friends and family about experiences in the Caribbean.

I learned the following observations (with more to come) do not apply to St. Croix.

Overrun with cruise ships and tourists
St. Croix, known as the “Quiet Virgin” fulfils that moniker when it comes to tourists. I have been to the beach when we were the only swimmers for a mile of sandy shore. Yes, certain areas of the island are busy and traffic jams do occur, but only in the commercial, day-to-day business sectors of the island that would never be destination spots for visitors.

Accosted by people pushing you into shops
The pushy shop people are known as “barkers” and illegal in St. Croix. The profession is legal on St. Thomas and originated to encourage tourists to leave the main street and visit shops in side-streets and alleys.

Accosted by hair braiders
I haven’t had one person even attempt to braid my hair. I haven’t notice an extraordinary amount of braided hair among locals. This must be some other Caribbean island’s hallmark or just a ruse to take tourist’s money. I did however get a dynamite haircut (one of the best I’ve ever had) from Trinidadian-born Petal of Petal’s Beauty Studio.

Besides a great stylist (which as you know ladies is no small feat), I’ve found a beautiful, rich, diverse new temporary home. The flora and fauna (photos and descriptions upcoming) continue to amaze. With some frequency, heavy rainstorms gather, descend, abruptly dissipate and the power goes out--like right now (thank goodness for batteries).

The pace of life is slower, but then one is forced to relax. My intention is to make the most of this sojourn.