12/17
I woke up to a quiet morning on the mountainside. The Guadeloupe Channel in my view was deep blue, the air was cool and breezy. Today would be the last day of hiking, and tomorrow I’d try to leave Dominica and go to St. Lucia. As I went down the mountain, I fought with myself. I came here to clear my head and think but the difficulties which came with hiking/camping, and everything, seem to have gotten in the way. I remained somewhat confused/frustrated! Or something. So I said, okay, well now’s the time for some thinking then! What was beautiful was that after eight days of hiking, hiking had become easy. I walked though some of the nicest villages on the island, Vielle Casse and Pennville where I talked to and made friends with dozens of people as always.
The trail left the towns in favor of the bush. There is was a well maintained trail, wide, dirt and good for walking on. Sweeping views showcased the super blue ocean and the large, volcanic island of Guadeloupe. I figured out my mind and yelled loudly to God about exactly what I wanted to happen, what would be the best scenario for the week in St. Lucia that was about to come. I laid out all the details for myself, but basically what I want is to find a boat sailing to the Pacific/ Australia who will take me. I know the place to look – Rodney Bay, because there’s a race there starting January 9th called the World ARC, with 37 boats all leaving and racing to Australia. The rest of my day was spent happy. I was in no pain.
The trail came to the island’s Caribbean coast at the Capuchin where it walked along the beach. With a long stick I whacked a coconut off the tree, drank the juice and ate the abundant jelly. Then later I whacked a cacao fruit off the tree and ate that, so delicious! It has strange large seeds which are bright purple and coated with white slime, you suck on them and eat the slime, it tastes like a mango. If you chew the seeds the taste is extremely bitter. I didn’t know it at the time, but learned later that this is actually cacao – as in chocolate. Those purple seeds are chocolate, and when I learned that it blew my mind. I found guava trees and picked the guavas, they are completely filled with hard inedible seeds. You have to suck on them and somehow free the fruity pulp from the seeds (haven’t quite figured them out yet.) I talked to two children for a long time and eventually set up camp on a beach, hidden out of the way of the small town among palm trees and bushes.
12/18
Big day…
I dreamed crazy all night, including one part where I mentioned in a large crowd of people,
“I’m trying to find a boat ride to Australia…”
The man yelled, “Hey everyone, he needs to find a boat ride to Australia!” and everyone around started cheering and chattering helping me locate the person in the huge crowd who would take me. I was so happy and in awe of the kindness and then someone yelled, “HEY!” and I woke up with a start… but it was no one…. The morning was quiet and serene… A good omen, a good sign. 5:30AM on the drizzly tropical bay. It rained off and on all night but now I had figured out my system and I stayed dry. Cozy in my shelter in the palm trees and bushes, I woke to face the perfect day. I walked the morning streets of Dominica, around here you meet someone and they immediately say, “Well the next time you’re in Dominica make sure to come find me, and you can stay with me and I’ll show you around etc. etc…” That’s like the next line to come after, “Hello how are you.”
I walked the final length of the Waitukubuli trail to reach the northern terminus. It was the perfect ending at Cabritz national park, a large hill in the ocean by the city of Portsmouth. Portsmouth bay was beautiful at 7AM, alight with sunshine and scattered rain squalls. I made it! So I kept walking even though the trail was over. I saw boats in the harbor and thought, “Oh, maybe there’s the ride to Australia.” I looked for boating people to talk to, and scanned the harbor many times to see if Shalom was by chance anchored there. You never know… Then I began the task of hitchhiking to the city of Roseau. I had my ferry ticket, 1:30PM to leave Roseau, Dominica bound for a 5:30PM arrival in the city of Castries, St. Lucia on Monday December 21st. Today was Friday December 18th. I was going to ask if they could change the ticket to today, supposedly they do that. Before long I was picked up by a totally overloaded truck. They pulled into a gas station and I said ‘never mind you’re clearly full.’ But they said nah, you can get on anyway, and they were going all the way to Roseau. So I climbed on the precarious boards and other equipment in the back and off we went.
Sunshine over Portsmouth
I grabbed onto this yellow strap with a strong grip on my right arm and held a large hose with my left. And I held on! The truck flew around the sharp corners of the mountain roads, gunning it up the mountains, then speeding down and I just held on tight. I laid back on my backpack so comfortably and watched the palm trees pass overhead, or watched the ocean as we soared majestically high above it. Or watch the little towns as we passed through and all the people who always want to talk to me, but they can’t because the truck just keeps driving! I rode like that in a state of total bliss for over an hour, 45 kilometers on the winding ocean/mountain highways.
It was a shame to have to arrive in Roseau and end that wild ride. I had to walk to the ferry and wait in some lines. A stern, rather angry lady was to tell me, “You can’t change your ferry ticket, all the ferries are totally full and booked up through the weekend. You will have to wait until Monday the 21st” (3 more days). She was the authority on the matter so I stood there for a while wondering what to do, then growing upset. I would have to go south to Scotts Head or somewhere, get out of Roseau, and spend the weekend back living in the bush. But I didn’t want to do that, I wanted to go to St. Lucia. I was very unhappy to think of all that time being wasted where I had already wasted all this time to hike across Dominica in the first place! I wandered aimlessly away from the ferries and down the colorful alleyway streets of Roseau. Then I slumped onto the side of the buildings between the parked cars and cried.
I kept walking and soon ran into somebody I recognized. He asked what my problem was, when I told him he was outraged by the ferry. “Go up to the office, it’s on the second floor above the grocery store. Tell them you have a family emergency! They are responsible for you! They need to at least buy you a hotel room.” Figured I’d give that a try but I got lost first and bought an ice cream, then saw him again and he said, “What’s wrong with you mon, go talk to them, get on that ferry!” So I went up there, told them it was a family emergency, and they said there was nothing they could do for me. Yeah, okay, I’m getting on that ferry damn it. So I went right back to the ferry dock and told them it was a family emergency and that the man at the office said I could get on the ferry. They didn’t believe me, but eventually some nice security guard decided to help me. I met a friend who had the exact same ticket changing problem I had. He handed us a piece of paper to write our names on, so that was the ‘standby list’. I broke my rule and got a second ice cream (I’m only allowed 1 per day max).
Mind you this whole ordeal of ferries began at 9:30AM, now it was 1:30PM and they decided to let us get on the boat! One problem though, I had this one way ticket to the independent country of St. Lucia. They don’t like that, remember what happened to Antoine with his one way ticket to Dominica? The police took him away at customs. I was planning to buy a plane ticket to St. Thomas BEFORE heading to St. Lucia, to have proof I was leaving the country eventually, but 5 days without internet made that impossible. So I was pretty much screwed. But, oh well, at least I’m on the boat.
It was an extremely rough ride to Martinique, the stop before St. Lucia, the ferry was dropping with stomach churning descents off the waves to crash thunderously into the troughs. We pulled into the tragic city of Fort de France where this mini-adventure of mine began. Then they spent hours loading luggage onto the boat, and soon we’d see why they said the ferry was full. The people came in hordes. There soon became more people on that boat then I had ever seen on a boat before in my life. Babies screaming, people laughing, chatter, noise, every seat full, everything max capacity, luggage piled in the aisles. It was insanity. The ship Liberty of the L’Express Des Iles, scheduled to arrive in Castries at 5:30, was ridiculously over capacity, and pulled away from Fort de France at 6. We laughed about it, my friend and I and two French girls, “And they said the titanic was unsinkable… just imagine what customs is going to be like with all these people.” I told my friend I was expected to be detained and carted off at customs, but I figured since I planned to sleep on the streets somewhere anyway, it wouldn’t be all that bad to sleep in the police station. Who cares, just got to enjoy the ride.
The ferry boat met the channel and raw Atlantic Ocean and with the first set of waves it rode, the whole screaming, laughing boat yelled “WOAH,” with shrieks and screeching calamity. The hilarious racket of people terrified or excited had my friend and I laughing hysterically in our seats. Then the ride continued, the sickening, nauseating rollercoaster of seasick slamming continued. Soon left and right people were puking into plastic bags! The poor guy working on the boat was handing them out and collecting them. It was the funniest ride of my life and the only smell in the air was of the perfume the ladies spritz. Night fell. It was 7:30 pulling into the twinkling city of Castries. I just laid in my seat and let the horde get off the boat. I had nowhere to go anyway. Maybe if I go last through customs they’ll be tired and just let me through!
Finally I stood with the throng of islanders behind customs in the dingy concrete building, feeling like I was at Ellis Island or some great immigrant gathering. Ages past, and at 9:30, after a 12 hour day with no food but the ice creams, I stood before customs. They asked me where I was staying and I said, “Ah, I dunno, a hotel somewhere for tonight…” Apparently an answer like that would usually get me thrown back on the boat to Dominica, but no more ferries ran for the night. “I have all my camping gear with me too.”
“Well, camping is frowned upon here on St. Lucia.” The guys seemed tired. “To be responsible, you should arrange where you are going to stay before you travel.” He didn’t ask me about a return ticket, just asked “How much money do you have?”
“I don’t have much on me…” I said truthfully, then thought, “but I have over 10,000 US dollars in my bank account.” I said very untruthfully. Okay, that worked and he let me through. Haha, I’m free and in St. Lucia!
So these people of St. Lucia… they cohersed me into a taxi and brought me to a hotel. Something like 245EC$ was suddenly parted from me, and I had a comfy bed. But happily I was in Rodney Bay, the place I needed to be to find boats. I told the taxi driver my story, and he told me where the street party was that happened every Friday night. There perhaps I could meet boats going to Australia. The hotel clerk also pointed me to the party. I was tired, but all signs pointed to the party, so I went.
I walked down the street into the ghettos. I hesitated. I turned back and walked away. I got my courage up and walked back. Some people mocked me as usual, “Hey mon, I got two beautiful ladies here for you, I’ll give you a good price!” he says after she asks me, “Do you need a wife?” I keep walking, a little apprehensive. Then suddenly I see crowds of people. I see… FOOD. Chicken! I see vendors. I see white people. I hear music, and between the music some people talking with Australian accents! I start to glow, to become happy. This is a good party, this is where I should be. This will be the next phase of this trip. The music was loud, people were smoking pot. Then I ran into my dreadlock rasta man friend from Martinique! I talked to him for a while. Then… as I walked through the crowd… I saw Lou and Tom… the International Crew! It took a moment to recognize them but then memories came flooding back. Here was my family! I ran up and she screamed and we had an extreme hug! I hugged Tom too and was just so happy, I never could have expected to see them, but in the back of my mind I had hoped it. All the original crew is gone (Petra, Ciaran, Alex, Robbin, etc…), everyone onboard Joshua-Shalom is new, but I lived with them for 3 days as 14 people onboard and that was long enough to make a real connection.
Lou said wonderful things to me, that she had voted we go to Dominica to pick me up and that it wasn’t the same without me there. I was overjoyed to see them We hung out and ate chicken and talked about everything that had happened in what had been 12 says since I left them. But then I saw the captains, Claes, Francisco and Silvia. They didn’t see me, then I walked to Silvia and for a moment she didn’t recognize me. Then she did and it was a beautiful moment and we kissed in the streets. She said to me, “I thought I might never see you again.” At some point I told them I’ll spend the next couple nights onboard and we’ll go hike the Petit Piton together.
So, Dylan talked all about the 1000$ sailboat I was planning to buy, but only I had the mysterious contact info for Daniel the pirate. He figured me showing up was destiny and convinced Lou and I to buy the boat with him and sail the Caribbean like I had originally planned to do with Ciaran. Meanwhile, Silvia tried to convince me to rejoin Shalom’s crew and she could get me the discounted rate. Finally I checked the internet and a Swedish man named Jorgen had contacted me. I met him at a bar in Martinique, Petra had introduced me to him and he was sailing to Australia. He asked if I’d be in Rodney Bay January 5th– 9th (the dates the ARC race leaves). Sounds like he’s offering me to join the crew! So I was suddenly presented that first night in Rodney Bay with all my options for me to take what I choose. Either buy the tiny boat, travel again with Shalom… or possibly go to Australia. The rest of the night was perfect.
Sailboat off Rodney Bay
12/19
In the morning I got no sleep and left the hotel at 7AM because I couldn’t sleep. I ate at the grocery store sitting outside in the sun. I sat at Café Ole in Rodney Bay and used the internet all day. I met up with Claes and rejoined the Shalom crew. I took a nap. I posted my name, “Crew Posting- Looking for a boat ride” on the bulletin board. I tried to network with people here and there. And finally, I swam off the boat in crystal clear water. It’s been slightly cooler here lately, or rainy. It’s winter! But still as I write this blog entry into my journal nearly naked at midnight on the breezy deck of Shalom I’m not cold. We had dinner of rice and veggies and were all sleepy, drained from the previous day and night. I will rejoin the crew for now because I love them, and if I can swing it maybe I’ll go back to Bequia with them for Christmas. Assuming Jorgen will take me to Australia, otherwise I should spend more time here in Rodney Bay getting to know people and looking for a boat ride. It’s hard to plan around here living spontaneously like this. “It’s funny how things work out… when you want them to work out right.” At this time things are happening like magic.
Pitons in the distance…
