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CrossRoads Bistro Tour
St. Lucia Island
November 2006
The wheels of our American Airliner barely skimmed the blazing asphault of the Vieux Fort runway as we simultaneously glanced at each other with cocktail grins. We’d been up since 4:ooAM and we were confident Glenn and Michelle had a great adventure in store. We would not be disappointed.
Well, the euphoria didn’t last long as our rental car delivery peddled up to the baggage claim. “Is that it, cause I’m pretty sure I reserved a whole car.” There were four of us and the rental clerk to transport in a car built for me and my luggage. Glenn spots the bar and proposes he and the girls hang out while I see what can be arranged with our transport. How’d I miss out on the first round, uh, I mean first two rounds.
Hey, where’s the steering wheel? Oh crap, I think we might be in trouble. Driving in St. Lucia is on the wrong side of the road driving from the wrong side of the half-car. Did I mention a big adventure earlier? OK, I can deal with this, no problem. Wait, you mean to tell me we share the road with live cows, sweet. If one gets hit, fresh meat for all tourists.
So we breeze down the road to check out the windsurfing site and our villa. The winds are fresh and the sun toasty as we enjoy what would normally be a brisk winter day, but we are in paradise. Sorry suckers! This is really it. Nothing but blue skies and a week with two of our favorite people.
Our first view of the boat is delivered as we blast out of a small harbor in the rocket propelled dingy. When Michelle drives, the dingy has two speeds, docking and hold on to your hat. What a beautiful pic. The boat is nestled in the corner of a large bay against a backdrop of lush, forested cliffs. The turquoise waters reflect off the hull and we are both slightly dazed by her size and the reality of the Phillips’ voyage. It’s a fantastic sight.
Unfortunately, Crossroads was anchored in a large harbor that included a somewhat sketchy fishing and freight area and turned out to be quite distant from our prearranged villa. Coupled with the actions of some enterprising local youths who liberated our gas line from the dingy and then tried to charge us $50 to buy it back. (Little did they know we were guests of Captain Glenn who conveniently plucks his spare gas-line from the mothership, foiling their scheme.) We determine we’ve seen enough of Vieux Fort within about 2 hours.
We depart the industrial city of Vieux Fort for the unspoiled and scenic Northwest Coast. One of my first observations as we hit the highway is that they don’t really have highways here. The road more resembles the alleys of midtown Memphis. My second observation is that there are no speed limit signs, (my pearly whites breakout). Being a guy, I decide “why not” and rapidly accelerate to a nice even 100 KPH. “It’s my vacation, I do what I want.” Man did the adventure get exciting after that! Michelle, I barely ran off the road two or three times, you have to admit it was pretty damn exhilarating. You should have seen your face in the rear view mirror. Wait a minute, I’m having a flashback, that’s why I ran off the road that second time. It’s OK, one eardrum is all any salesman needs and old timers all say stereo sound is over-rated.
Where was I, oh, half way to Marigot Bay. So, I guess the island must be a rainforest with all these ‘nana trees. Wonder if its gonna rain while were here? We soon learned that it can rain every 20-30 minutes in a rainforest. Turns out that’s a great way to keep the heat down and the frequent showers soon became welcomed.
Marigot Bay turns out to be one of Glenn and Michelle’s favorite anchorages when they were on their way South last winter. They thought we’d like it too and they were dead on. The resort Marigot Beach Hotel is only accessible by a small ferry. There are no roads on that side of the bay and the road coming in is maybe half a road. Luckily we have the dingy, though its only about 100 feet from the dingy dock to Crossroads. We look out over her proud hull from the balcony of our 2nd story room and ponder what the poor people are doing.
The title of my little report is Crossroads Bistro for a reason. Glenn and Michelle are routinely cranking out the best cuisine of the trip. From the blueberry pancakes and sausage gravy to the full blown Thanksgiving dinner, they’re preparing unbelievable
meals from an abundantly stocked 4’ X 4’ galley (kitchen for you landlocked Memphites). We keep hearing about the friends they’ve made on the voyage and its soon obvious to both of us why their friends are hanging around. I suppose it’s a little more like stalking when their newfound friends actually follow them from the Bahamas to Trinidad. My only question is, “Do you ever get to eat dinner on Dragonfly?” Just kidding Jeff and Una, you guys are great and we’re glad you’re there to look out for our friends, and vice versa. That goes out to everyone crossing paths with Crossroads.
Like those coveted bottles of fine wine, our trip crescendos rapidly through the last days. We’re sad to have to leave, but we have many vivid visions to reflect on as we make our journey home to the awaiting thermal shock. The most important of which are the smiles, stories, and chapters grown over the course of lifelong friendship. Some people like to say, “those were the good ole days.” To me, “THESE ARE THE GOOD OLE DAYS,” This is the time we’ve been working for. Enjoy your life, enjoy the people close to you, and never forget to tell your friends how you feel about them.
Glenn and Michelle, you guys are the best. Congratulations on Living the Dream!
John and Elizabeth Heeren
Memphis