A trip to our little cottage is unlike most trips we all take.
Usually, we visit one location for a day or two before going on to another
spot. In our case we spend "X" number of days, mostly sitting on the little
porch overlooking Drakes' Channel and, beyond, seeing Tortola. 6 years
ago on our first visit to Cooper we only spent a week and immediately realized
our mistake. A week barely gives you a taste of what this island has to
offer. You find you crunch everything into time slots in order to "get
it all in."
You shouldn't have to do that here. You have to have those lazy mornings
where you stay in bed reading and dozing and choosing not to get up until
noon, just in time to make lunch. Or have those quiet mornings watching
the boats come and go; seeing if the air will support a kite; THINKING
about finding another trash novel to read. Those are as important as strapping
on the gear and going diving.
This year we planned 18 days in that little nest. We left on Easter
morning and returned on the 5th of May. We knew that would be perfect length
of stay. It wasn't.
Our plane was a VERY early 6:15am. Last year when I booked the flight
it was scheduled at 7am. Throughout the year it just got earlier. We arose
at 3:45 and the car arrived at 4:30. Steve was NOT happy. Here are my hastily
written notes from that day:
3:45am Alarm rings. Steve's eyes open but he isn't sure where he is.
4:30am Leaving the apartment building, Helen realizes that she can't
see. She returns to the 19th floor to find her glasses and pet Christopher,
the cat, one last time.
6:30am Sun is seen to rise - from seat 21A
9:15am In the air over "someplace." Steve refuses to talk to me. Must
rethink this departure hour.
11:35am On our second leg of our trip out of San Juan we sight the new
airport terminal being built on Beef Island, Tortola. Might be nice to
have AC while waiting for customs but it will be BIG! We'll miss the old
cement building and its 40 plastic chairs in the waiting room.
1:05pm Walked down into town from our room at the Sea View Hotel and
ordered lunch at Pusser's. Everything else is closed since its Easter Day.
Dire Straits on the stereo, playing the theme from "Local Hero." Very weird.
3:45pm Steve is asleep in the hotel. Don't dare budge him for another
couple of hours. Waiting to hear from the Cooper Island Beach Club about
the departure time for the boat that will deliver us to the cottage tomorrow.
They will probably leave early since Easter Monday is a bank holiday.
That's where I stopped.
That afternoon while Steve was asleep I went to find the unmanned desk
to call the club. On route, I ran into Ishma, the owner of the Sea View
Hotel, who was having a worker weigh her huge hands of bananas that are
grown on short trees all over her small property. 20lbs, 13lbs, 14lbs………..
a total of about 200lbs are finally weighed out and ready to be delivered
to a local market for sale. I wish I wasn't allergic to bananas. I'm sure
these are the best.
We had dinner at C&F, renown for the best ribs on the island. Got
there early to beat the crowds and returned to the hotel with an extra
order of ribs for tomorrow night along with the balance of the ones we
couldn't finish in the restaurant. This affects the brilliant menu and
shopping planning I have done and would, unbenounced to me, simplify my
life!)
Monday morning we arrange for a cab to shadow us around Roadtown. We
are trying a new market this year on Ginny's recommendation.
Bobbie's is smaller than RiteWay but I find it's a much better store.
Steve goes on with our cab driver to shop at a wine store on the other
side of town. The meat (which we were unable to bring with us from the
States because of the H&M scare - more later on that) at Bobby's is
a much better quality than at Riteway. The lamb chops are from New Zealand
and I know they will be too gamy for my palate.
I am finding everything I need in the produce section when Steve appears.
The wine store is closed. Holiday. But he is more than thrilled with the
selection here. We finish and check out having spent $365 - mostly on wine.
The rum he has chosen is expensive because he has decided that the plastic
bottles will travel lighter. $9.45 for 1.75 liters. Are you kidding????
We'll take 3! Or was it 4………… We pack all the goods into boxes and put
all the meat and dairy in a separate bag with ice and then into a box.
We arrive at Prospect Reef and find the beach club boat. It is empty.
We load our boxes and bags onto it and go off to have cokes. In a few minutes
there is some activity so I leave Steve to his sipping and meet the club's
new boatman. He had arrived from Glasgow only 4 weeks earlier. Brandon
volunteers to put all our meat and sour cream and butter, etc in the club's
freezer while we wait for the other travelers. He will stow them in the
boat before we leave.
Finally, everyone is located and 11:30am we head out into the channel.
From the boat, I immediately can see our cottage on the island. It is
unmistakable. That Caribbean Blue roof is my beacon.
I visit with Brandon. He is from Glasgow, as I have said. I tell him
a have a dear friend who lives not far away, in Troon. He laughs and says
he has an aunt who teaches at a school in Troon. This surprises me. The
owners of the club are Brits and usually have two or three folks on staff
from Scotland.
(Since returning home I have had a conversation with Marsie and she
tells me that her daughter knows Brandon's aunt. I shouldn't be surprized,
right?)
In the middle of our visit he turns to me and tells me that he has left
our box in the freezer. I laugh and tell Steve that we will be eating dinner
at the beach club. Brandon promises to deliver the box to us the next day
when he returns to Tortola to pickup their daily ice.
We arrive on Cooper and are greeted by Curt. Curt manages to restaurant
and we've been friends for years. Hugs all around. He asks about our friend
Crisy who stayed on Cooper at the club two years ago. Steve and I then
head down the rocky path to our little bungalow.
We find that the damage from the "Backwards Hurricane" Lenny in 1999
is being replaced by Mother Nature.
To those who don't remember it, Lenny started in the western Caribbean
and traveled back toward the West Indies. Hurricanes DON'T do this. This
one did. It was November. The leeward sides of islands that never get damage,
got damage. The storm surge was so great the all the trees, upwards to
50 feet from the shore line, that got washed with salt water, died. This
was amazingly evident on our Millennium Sail to the BVI and last spring,
our last visit. This year the pencil cactus is prolific.
We climb the stone steps to the cottage. Brandon delivers our food and
duffles to the beach and helps Steve bring them up.
Ok, this is where the trip report changes. No daily reports. Many days
were identical.
THE COTTAGE
Ginny Evans has two properties on Cooper. One is the House on the Hill;
up a stone path and perfect for a family. It has a spectacular view. The
other is a little beach cottage called the Pink House. It is a studio-like
bungalow. It can't be more than 20 feet square and is complete with a kitchen
and a porch that wraps the entire front and side. We are within 30 feet
of the beach on Manchioneel Bay.
This year has been dry. A lot of the trees aren't blooming when we arrive
and when we check we find we have only about 2 feet of water in the 100
sq. ft cistern. This is all the water there is so we will have to be very
careful with our usage. The meter on the solar panels reads HIGH. This
is good - we will be able to run the fan in the afternoons and use the
CD player whenever we want. Brandon had promised to deliver us another
full tank of propane. The fridge and stove are power by the gas. I find
extra pillows and unpack a few items (change into one of my pareos) and
we adjourn to the porch for peanut butter and preserves sandwiches.
THE FOOD
Ah, the food. People look cross eyed at me when I tell them I cook on
vacation. But the kitchen overlooks the bay and trees. It hard not enjoy
the process of putting simple meals together. This year Steve and I made
an agreement. I would cook and he would do dishes. This works well. Almost
too well. I found myself secretly washing dishes after some of the dinners
that he grilled. After dinner who wants to do dishes??
I have a program called MasterCook into which I have inputted my Cooper
Island recipes. These are very simple meal plans that have minimal ingredients
and processes. It's taken me a lot of time to do this but in the end when
I create menu plans it spits out shopping lists. And they are more than
helpful. How many onions do you need for 36 meals?? It's all in there.
The interesting thing was that our planning was interrupted by the fact
that we were invited to dinner by the neighbors in the Hill House and we
had all those extra ribs from C&F. In the end I found that we were
able to eliminate our last trip to the mainland for provisions. We simply
had a couple more PBJ sandwiches and an extra meal or two at the Beach
Club. Note: I DID get tired of cooking. I found myself dreaming of ordering
out Chinese…….
Caribbean Pork Kabobs, Filet Mignon with Horseradish Sauce, Pasta Pesto,
Lemon Caper Chicken, Steak with Bordelaise Sauce, BBQ Chicken, Pasta with
Sundried Tomato Sauce. These were some of the things we cooked for dinner.
Lunches were sandwiches or pilafs or Chicken Waldorf salad or Sesame Noodles.
Or the Beach Club where they make the most wonderful play on a BLT with
melted cheese. Steve loves their Chicken Roti. I even had their world famous
Conch Fritters (which used to give my stomach fits but my taste buds would
dance). Truly, people come from all over the Caribbean for them!
THE BEACH CLUB
Just down the beach and over some rocks from the Pink House is the most
intimate little beach club. Cooper Island Beach Club just celebrated their
20th birthday and is a perfect place for anyone who wants the simplicity
of our cottage with the luxury of running hot water and switch-on electricity.
The folks there tend Ginny's property and are able to make the two houses
ready within 3 hours for the next visitors.
We have never stayed there but we would, instantly, if we ever decide
we need to be cared for. They do that well. There is a sweet beach with
lazy palm trees that protect those who recline below them. The staff is
well trained. So well trained that those who have worked there immediately
find work elsewhere in the BVI should they decide to stay and work in the
islands. I think that it is probably the most professionally staffed small
resort in the BVI.
Every year when we return we greet those staff members who remain from
year to year. They greet us by name and remember our friends as well. It's
like a reunion; we ask and hear about the latest BVI gossip and news of
former staffers. Toby and Chris seem to run the Club effortlessly.
A DAY IN THE LIFE
Morning comes about 7am during April. I awaken to the rhythmic clanking
of the halyards on the boats in the bay and lapping of the little waves
on our beach. I get up and make a cup of coffee or get a glass of iced
tea and sit outside. Steve has permission to sleep until he is willing
to wake up. That could be 10am or it could be noon. The first year we visited
I made breakfast every day but I soon realized that Steve would prefer
to sleep so sleep he does.
After I have finished my crossword puzzle or a chapter in my book, I
consider the wind and go down below and put my kite out for any wind it
might find. I wonder what all these boaters must think about this grown
woman who flies a kite! Well, she loves it and does it well. I think it
only landed in the water only once in three weeks.
As I play with my kite I look for offerings that the night's waters
have delivered to me on the beach. I find another Flamingo Tongue, or a
Carrot Cone, or another piece of pretty coral. The water is still quiet
with the boaters waking up, making their coffee and silently releasing
their mooring lines and slipping out of the bay. Many times I never even
realize they are gone until I hear the flap, flap, flapping of their uncoiling
jibs hundreds of yards away. I bring the kite in and go up to pour the
last of yesterday's ice tea and prepare to make more.
Some things must be done first thing. A new pot of tea must be made
and set outside to cool so it is ready by lunch. Ice cubes must be cracked
out and added to the plastic bag in the freezer. Fresh ice must be made
so it is ready for the next day. Lunch needs to be considered. Does it
need to be cooked and then cooled? The solar bags must be filled with fresh
water so the sun can heat them for showers later in the afternoon. That's
all. Then you sit down and watch.
You watch the birds. You watch the boats. You watch the clouds as they
approach and give light showers to the islands and then offer you rainbows.
One morning I saw a rainbow that curved into another. You watch the Beach
Club boat leave to go into Roadtown for ice and provisions. You watch the
hermit crabs as they scarf up the remainder of dinner that was dropped
the night before from the porch for their hunger. You watch to see if any
buds have opened to present the flowers they hold inside. You watch. Hours
go by……………and you don't even notice.
Before you know it Steve is awake and lunch needs to be served. The
Scrabble game needs to be pulled out and set up. Or lunch is spent silently
reading.
After lunch you consider a dive or a kite fly or a beach stroll or another
nap or more of that trash novel you swore you would NEVER buy but, hey,
it's here so you read it. No one will know unless you tell. I will never
bring
good literature again. Just more trash to leave for the next visitors.
Before you know it is time for that first rum punch of the day. At 4:30pm
you make sure dinner is defrosted and the various ingredients are ready.
You find that radio station from San Juan that plays the oldies or put
on another Jimmy Buffet CD to sing along with knowing that these are the
islands he wrote a bunch of these songs about. In fact, rumors have it
that "Cheeseburger In Paradise" was written about Cooper Island Beach Club.
You even hear the music coming for the boats STILL trying to anchor for
the night.
Now THAT is part of happy hour. Yours not theirs. Manchioneel Bay is
nearly impossible to anchor in since it's mostly sea grass and the grass
provides a really bad holding for anchors. Some boat charter companies
tell their clients that if that can't pick up a mooring ball there they
are forbidden to anchor. We have seen more than one near disaster there
involving folks who didn't take the time to assure that their anchors were
well set. Steve has been known to shout instructions from the porch.
Someplace in here we shower. In the flowers. Long palm fronds threaded
through a lattice fence, block everyone's view of your body. The outside
shower has everything you need. But I brought with us a lovely bar of soap
from The Body Shop. Oceanus. How appropriate is THAT? After a sunny day
the water in the solar bag is hot. After a cloudy day the water is warm.
I love being subject to the environment. I put on a fresh pareo and clip
my towel to the laundry line and return to the porch to comb out my hair.
Dinner is finally started. We need to determine whether we want to eat
in light of candles or the setting sun. Most times it's candle light. This
year I brought with us a case on citronella votive candles. I have placed
small glass hurricane lights around the interior of the cottage. They give
the room a golden glow. It looks like a romantic set for a movie. They
also kill all the few BAD bugs that chew on my dear Steve.
Throughout dinner we review the day. Perhaps we had been snorkeling
the various sites just off the island and have discovered new fish or bright
coral. Perhaps we had spent the day on the mainland marketing and exploring
dear shops and visiting with the shop owners. Perhaps we had simply lazed
around. We spy lights in the sky and then watch as those light turn into
planes landing at the airport. We watch any latecomers to the bay trying
to find a spot to anchor. Between 9 and 10 we blow out the porch candles
and retire to read in bed before floating off to sleep.
Then we do it all over again………..18 days this time.
NOTES FROM A SMALL ISLAND
Ginny has left a spiral notebook in the cottage so visitors can leave
notes for each other. Everyone always tells about the snorkeling or the
Beach Club or the boats out front. I've done that year after year too.
This time I knew I would need to do something different. I figured everyone
would find that reef out front without my two cents worth. There were some
things they wouldn't notice without me.
At 5am Tuesday morning I heard a woman's muffled cry as her boat swung
into another in a strong southerly. No damage from what I could see.
The vine by the shower that always looks like it is dying, is actually
going to bloom on our departure. I guess we have had enough rain for it.
But not for the cistern.
The airport searchlight goes out between 9 and 10pm, sometimes later.
Doesn't seem to be a schedule. The first morning plane is a LIAT about
8am. From St. Martin?
Had my first Salt Fish for breakfast at Midtown Restaurant last week.
Was really good but watch for bones. It did sit on my stomach all afternoon
but I'd do it again, instantly.
Six short, one long, pause -- Signal light on Beef Island.
We had a lot of rain showers but could use more. The Oleander is blooming
white and pink. The Plumaria is blooming as well though I can't quite reach
the flowers to smell their sweet syrup. The Banana Quits are drinking and
bathing in the bowl by the shower but have also enjoyed the big puddle
on the porch up at the Hill House. That's why we haven't seen them as much
this year. The Pearl-eyed Thrasher is a pest but holds a decent conversation.
Have really enjoyed getting to know Don and Jerry from the Hill House
who are also from NYC. We had dinner up there and later cocktails here
and we all talked and talked, and talked. Got a rather poor digital pic
of the four of us that I will send to Ginny. Spent an evening with them
after too much rum punch hanging the dive light off the pier into the water
and watching the fish we attracted -- lots of creatures. Saw a wonderful
neon green needle fish. We will no doubt be seeing D&J in the city.
I'll get a better pic then.
Steve found a scorpion in the mop bucket. Fed him to the crabs and lizards.
The planes are landing from the North today. I feel dizzy seeing this
reverse direction. I can't see them approach anymore.
Bobbie's is best for marketing. I don't know why I have never listened
to Ginny about this before!
We bought too much Guava Nectar and rum. If I never see another rum
punch again it will be TOO SOON. What will I drink for two more days. The
tonic ran out Sunday. More rum punch, I guess.
Got the kite all the way out today. Brandon stopped by today to visit
as I fought the thing. Took forever to reel it in. Steve says there must
be 150 feet of string on it. I got sunburned.
I have gotten sloppy for the past week and have forgotten to make iced
tea 1st thing in the morning. This island time has really gotten to me.
Tonight I successfully lit 4 candles with one match. And to think we
are leaving in two days…….such wasted talent.
DIS is real. I have experienced it. Dreaded Island Fever has overtaken
the Pink House.
GOING HOME
At 5:45am the alarm rings. We haven't heard an alarm since our last
daytrip to the mainland for marketing nearly two weeks ago. I have been
awake since 5:30 knowing we would be leaving soon. I was on the porch once
to look at the dawn grey bay. No one is up in the harbor from what I can
see.
Steve and I spent the afternoon before packing away everything we wouldn't
need in the final hours of our holiday. He had gone back to the Beach Club
to pay our tab there. We always ask if they have more days available at
the Pink House and they never do. Today they will be receiving their next
tenants at 11am.
I unclip my travel dress from the clothesline and get dressed. I put
on some make up and rebraid my hair. Steve is checking drawers and cubbyholes
for lost items. By 6:15 we are nearly ready.
I empty the fridge and pack bags of leftovers for our newly arrived
neighbors up the hill. One of the fellows is on the beach watching the
morning. I call his name and he comes to pick up the offerings. Guava nectar,
some rum, OJ, cheese, bread, some lettuce, a pepper, peanut butter, some
rice pilaf. They had failed to do enough food shopping on the way over
and hope that these things will tide them over for the rest of their week.
We can always tell the newcomers - they only booked the island for a week.
Once they get here they realized their mistake. We understand. 6 years
earlier we had made the same error.
About 6:30 we drag our duffels over to the dock. Chris from the club
will bring his dinghy over and pick them up. Somehow I thought they wouldn't
be so heavy but they are. On the way back down the beach I find one or
two more shells. I also find a very small sea urchin shell and knowing
it will never make the trip back home without breaking, I place it on top
of the radio that the new guy has left while he takes the bags of food
up to the Hill House. I smile when I think of their childlike glee as they
put their heads in the water yesterday and discovered snorkeling for the
first time.
I pick up my French ticking bag and bag of Sunny Caribee goodies I had
bought and Steve and I close the door, step quietly down the back steps
and walk up the path to the Beach Club.
As we walk, we look down to the bay and drifting boats. Some folks are
up now. It's nearly 7 and they are considering staying in the anchorage
or going on to another. Coffee is being made. Yawns. Scratchy eyes. Few
sounds. Certainly no Jimmy Buffet.
Along the path we pass a Plumaria tree that still has no blooms on it.
We see goat foot prints and remainders of hermit crabs that the birds had
found. We scatter termite trails. Around the rocky bend, there is the club.
Folks begin to wander towards the club's boat. Several of the employees
are going to Roadtown to do business and the locals will spend time with
their families.
At 7 we get aboard and sit inside. There are no words exchanged. Most
people are dozing having worked the restaurant until late the night before.
I pull out a last can of Seltzer and pop it open to drink.
Gently and quietly we motor out of the bay and into the channel. There
is no little Caribbean Blue roof to look towards. Only behind.
I am no longer sad when I leave the islands. I used to try to hide my
tears from Steve. The first year we left the BVI, in 1989, I picked a Hibiscus
flower to throw into the water from the boat so it would float back to
shore and guarantee my return. It has obviously worked 11 times. Now I
look forward to seeing Christopher again and the new planters on our terrace
at home and later the plants that will come. I have many things to look
towards.
Steve and I breakfast at Midtown Restaurant amongst the BVIers who are
heading off to work. It's Friday and they are not doubt looking to the
weekend as they visit with each other in a patois that I am just beginning
to figure out. He and I order the best eggs, hash browns and bacon in town
along with large glasses of OJ. I guzzle my first glass and order more.
Finally we pay our last bill and David, our driver, picks us up and we
head towards the airport.
David and I discuss many controversial subjects on route. He is surprised
I know so much of the gossip.
Will Prospect Reef Resort (where our boat docks) really install a Dolphin
Dive pool? No one wants it and there is an effort afoot to disallow it.
The Chief Minister is reconsidering his approval of it.
Will the government be able to control the speeding cars that careen
down Drakes' Highway by installing speed bumps?
What about the new two-lane bridge that will soon replace the dear one
lane Queen Elizabeth Bridge? And what about the man who sits in a little
hut and reaches out a stick that has a coconut shell affixed to its end
and collects coins from cars so that they may pass?
The big subject is of course the airport. Most everyone in the BVI wants
it. Those of us, who discovered the BVI as our own unknown paradise, don't.
Yeah, the AC will be nice but is the trade off worth it? Will it bring
in 737s? Right now the largest planes that can land are only ATR 42s. We
are happy with that. Our first year here the only plane that could land
on Virgin Gorda was a 6 seat Cessna. I LOVED that flight! Those were the
days…………
Before we know it we are there. David unloads our bags and delivers
them 10 feet to the line we will stand in to check in. We pay him and thank
him and promise to see him next year.
Our trip home is a trip home. Not much to say about it other than while
we are in line with customs in San Juan our flight to New York City is
taking off. We only have to wait another 3 hours and the American Airlines
folks take such pity on us they give us emergency row seats. YUM!
We land about 8:30 at JFK. It takes us two hours to get home between
the lack of available cabs and the construction and traffic on various
roadways. We walk in the door to a dear kitty who has missed us - neighbors
tell us of meows at the door day in and day out. Our Cat Sitter raves about
how dear he is and how much she enjoyed him.
I don't unpack. I don't shower. I make a cup of coffee and crawl into
bed. Steve is lost in the shower for what seems hours while I scan the
news channels to see if we've missed anything. Nothing. And nothing is
mentioned about a little Pink House on Cooper Island on the Sir Francis
Drake Channel in the British Virgin Islands where we found our paradise
for 18 days in April.
If you enjoyed this trip report, you might also enjoy Steve's version,
which starts here.
