Chapter 4: A P.E.I. Farming Legacy

Purebred Ayrshire cows grazing in the field. One had taken notice of the photographer. Photo: M. Juanita Rossiter

“Growing up on a dairy farm, you certainly learn discipline and a commitment to purpose.”                                                                                                Mike Johanns

Ayr Bay Farm St. Peter’s Bay PEI             Photo:  P. Rossiter -Ayr Bay Farm

The sign reads: Visitors Welcome. On the road to Greenwich P.E.I., the evening sun setting over St. Peter’s Bay casts a red orangey glow on the hay bales that are lined up neatly in the hayfield. A long red clay and gravel lane leads to the barnyard, with the customary farmhouse, barn, tractors, and other farm machinery. Sounds emitting from the barn are a mixture of cows bawling and machine motors running.

Molly on guard.                                                Photo: P. Rossiter – Ayr Bay Farm

A black and white sheep dog, Molly patrols the yard, while numerous cats and kittens skitter about. Grazing in a field in front of the house, behind a single strand of electric fencing, a small herd of cattle slowly lift their heads to inspect my approach. Finding my presence boring at best, they resume their munching on the more interesting blades of grass and clover before them. This is no ordinary herd of cows. These brown and white beasts are purebred Ayrshire dairy cattle, born and bred to be show cattle, and the best in their breed of milk producers.

Ayshire cows grazing peacefully in the field.                                                                             Photo: M. Juanita Rossiter

The owners of this dairy farm are second and third generation. Their love for the profession and industry is evident is every aspect of the operation. Though humble in appearance, this is no humble operation. Ayr Bay Farms  is a modern day operation equipped with state-of-the-art milking and feeding machines customized to consider a herd of 80 cattle’s individual dietary needs with great care, according to their milk production levels or stage of lactation. This might be daunting work for one man, but this is not the case. The owner and overseer have been in the business for over 60 years. The father/son team shares the duties of the working day beginning at 5:30A:M to 8:00P:M; seven days a week. Only peak periods during hay season, or a short holiday, do they relinquish the care of their prize herd to hired farm hands. Otherwise, every day is a work day, with no complaints. The barn is a hive of activity. Parallel lines of stalls house an array of milk cows all busily feeding and occasionally looking up to watch the visitors.

Feeding time in the barn. An automatic feeder is making the rounds with a huge bale of hay.                                                                                                                            Photo: Angie Dunn

Young calf already registered and tagged. Photo: Angie Dunn

With all aspects of the dairy operation inspected twice a year, milk consumers should be comforted to know that such strict regulations are adhered to in this industry. As is tradition with purebred cattle, cows on the farm are given names at birth. You might be introduced to a Suzie, Cheryl, Glitter, or Happy Jodie. The inspiration for the names is not disclosed, but family and friends pay close attention to newborn calves ensuring their namesakes appear later in the show rings.

White kittens…the owners personal favorite.                   Photo: P. Rossiter – Ayr Bay Farm

A barn is not a barn, without a cat or two, or three. Peering out from stalls and hay bales, most are cautious, but the young run about totally oblivious to the huge cattle in the stalls, and the danger of being trampled. As a young girl, many a kitten I carried home from this farm. Years later my own children chose two kittens from this barn litter to become cherished household pets. The owners pride and joy are the white kittens who are famous mousers (likely due to the extra thumb). They have been a familiar sight on this farm for at least two generations. Living in harmony with Molly, the sheep dog, they play an important role in keeping the rodent population down on the farm.

**********************************************************************************************

There is an air of contentment in this barn, for both the animals and their human keepers. Life is good on this farm. When asked why he chose this profession, my young host farmer, replied. “I think it takes a special person to be a farmer, not better, just different. If farming was supposed to be so easy, everyone would be doing it!”

And special he is; working a 7-day week unquestionably demonstrates his love for this job. Having the joy of watching newborn calves grow up to be show cattle, and other farms throughout Canada vying for their offspring, is his reward… for a job well done!

Ayr Bay Farm’s C Sandy – 3 yr old.                                                                                    Professional photographer Vicki Fletcher.                Photo provided by Ayr Bay Farm

“Farming with live animals is a 7 day a week, legal form of slavery.”…George Segal

Winter at Ayr Bay Farm                                                        Photo: P. Rossiter – Ayr Bay Farm

Chapter 3: Lobster Fishing in PEI; Opening Day

“They that go down to the sea in ships….”
Psalms, 107:23-30, KJV

The dashboard clock reads 5:00 AM. On this small wharf in Sturgeon P.E.I., it is still dark; that darkest hour just before daybreak; with a fine drizzle and light fog shrouding the wharf. Fishermen are bustling about, with their small fleet securely tied at the wharf. Their diesel motors are idling, at ready, for the first day of lobster fishing. This morning is ‘settin day’. It also happens to be ‘opening day’ when they typically would be ‘haulin’ in their first catch of the season. Despite the delay caused by high wind and generally nasty weather, they are good to go.

The fishing fleet is loaded and ready.                                                                         Photo: ELR

Ever wonder how the succulent lobster arrives on your dinner plate? Well, if you are on a wharf in Eastern P.E.I. on May 1st , ‘opening day’, you can witness firsthand the back breaking work and careful planning it takes to fish, and catch, the crustaceans that our nation covets.
The mood on the Sturgeon wharf this morning is light, and a feeling of excitement and expectation lingers in the air, as captains and crew ‘made ready’ their fleet. While some of the crew is having their first smoke of the day, a kettle boils rapidly in a fishing boat’s cabin, brewing the first morning cup of tea.

The Kimberly Dawn                                                                                                            Photo: ELR

This is a family affair for most of these men. Generation after generation has fished the same lobster licenses on the same fishing grounds. One captain has his ‘first mate’ on board, proudly introducing her as his wife. It’s quite evident she knows the drill. She carries her load well, baiting the traps each day, and later, when the traps are hauled, she baits them again for their eventual return to the sea. On the same wharf, a young fisherman has his boat loaded and ready. His first mate, his son of 17 years, secures the lines and steps confidently around the bow of the Kimberly Dawn. Smiling and jovial, he makes mention that he has been fishing since he was in the ‘womb’. It is evident this young fisherman has inherited his love for the sea.

Lobster traps stacked neatly on the wharf.                      Photo: Sara Roach-Lewis

At first sight, there appears to be as many traps still on the wharf, as there is loaded on the fishing boats. There is scarcely room for the crew to move about. Each boat looks almost identical, bearing half their quota of 300 traps neatly stacked on board. Today, these traps, each weighing almost 100 pounds, will be set on their fishing grounds in the Northumberland Strait on the south shore of Prince Edward Island.
The ‘corks’ or helpers are mingling on the wharf sharing stories of prior years, and lamenting on what this year will bring. The early morning air is cool, and you can see their breaths in the shadows of the dock lights. Their voices are muted, and I sense I’m witnessing a very intimate moment. Oddly, I feel like an intruder, stumbling upon some sacred ritual. Eying me suspiciously, with my yellow rubber boots and rain gear, they see the flash of my camera, and their mood changes. They snicker at the mere idea of a photo shoot in the early morning hours.
They are a proud lot, and I am honored, to be sharing this moment and space on their wharf on a chilly morning with temperatures hovering around four degrees Celsius. As the first light of dawn casts new shadows over this small fleet, few words are spoken. By some instinctive signal, the crews board their vessels, and in a quiet and unhurried pace, they perform their assigned tasks. Methodically, the crews untie their sterns and bow lines, and not once, did I hear a captain bark orders.
Within minutes, the entire fleet is untied, and underway, to their fishing grounds. While most Islanders were just waking up, lobster fishermen in this small community of Sturgeon were already well on their way out to sea.

This fisherman is no stranger to lobster fishing. Here he readies the traps for settin.        Photo:  A.Roach

Underway from the Sturgeon Wharf. It is 6:00 A.M.                                       Photo: A. Roach

A light fog slowly lifts off the water’s surface.                                                            Photo: ELR

So caught up in this sight, I was unaware for a moment I was standing alone, on the vacant wharf. The low rumble of their motors fade as they negotiate the channel, and hearing their distant laughter ricocheting over the water’s surface, I was awed by their camaraderie. As I watched them through the mist and low lying fog, I sensed that I was not alone. I felt the ghostly presence of many ‘fishermen past’, who fished these same waters for decades, and who like me, were feeling the same sense of pride, and excitement that thrilled these fishermen today.

In Western P.E.I., the lobster season is later in the summer.  In Malpeque Bay, at the end of the day the fishermen dock their boats with precision at the wharf.  A local P.E.I. photographer captured the breathtaking serenity of a sun setting on the wharf in Malpeque.

Calm night at the wharf.                                                      Photo: Paul Arsenault Photography

Chapter 2: The Old Home Town

Breakwater St. at sunset.                                                                                           Photo:  ELR

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”                ~John Howard Payne

Souris Town Hall          Photo:Angie Dunn

 

At first glance, my old home town looked the same. Closer inspection showed the old, juxtaposed with the new. The grocery store, long since closed, where I once knew the meat cutter on a first name basis, had morphed into a mega store in the town’s east side industrial park.

 

 

 

Colville Bay, with its long expanse of white sandy beach paralleling the causeway at the entrance to the town is a breathtaking welcome.

A boardwalk allows residents and visitors to stroll the beachfront and listen to the magnificent ocean breakers. If so inclined this beach is popular for sea glass collectors, windsurfers, swimmers and sunbathers. Stop awhile and visit the seasonal shops showcasing local artisan crafts or grab a quick snack at the lobster shack on the boardwalk.

Souris Beach on the causeway at low tide.                                                               Photo: ELR

It’s a town where everyone knows their neighbor. If you are looking for anonymity, you will quickly discover the locals have already pegged you as a visitor ‘from away’. Islanders, with their quirky accents, hinting of Irish, Scotch, or French ancestry are a trusting assembly of grass roots people. It’s an Island community with a distinctive personality, where front doors are sometimes left unlocked; the belief that locks are only for honest people.

From the archives…………..

They say you can’t go back. Well you can. And I did. A yearly visitor for almost two decades was not enough, however, to prepare me for the culture shock of moving from a metropolitan area, to a small urban community. Each summer, with our two children, my husband and I made the trek home to P.E.I. The children immediately became enchanted, and referred to P.E.I. as ‘the vacation island’, long before they had any awareness of the tourism commercials. Their summertime experiences provided many hours of enjoyment; experiences their urban friends could only read about. Whether it was discovering secluded beaches the tourists had yet to find; deep sea fishing on large fishing vessels; clam digging on the numerous sandy beaches; or catching minnows in a net off the piers,  their summer pastimes were boundless.

Black eyes Susans growing wild.                  Photo: Angie Dunn

Wildflowers growing in abundance in the ditches, to be gathered later to adorn our tables, never failed to delight our children. One such afternoon, while driving by one of the countless country fields laden with dandelions, my young son remarked on how beautiful they were. While some residents spent countless hours and money trying to eradicate the pesky dandelions from their lawns and gardens, our little boy saw pure beauty in this delightful explosion of color. I have since become more patient with these pesky flowers, and have given up trying to rid our lawn of them.

The pump. Still standing after all those years.       Photo: Angie Dunn

 

A visit to my old homestead was laden with nostalgia. Some things had changed, while others remained the same. An antique pump proudly stands at ready over a shallow water well. Lovingly maintained for the past 70 years, it was no surprise that it was still in working order.

 

 

Returning to live in Prince Edward Island after all those years was a dream come true. It has taken me a few years to grow accustomed to this unique culture again, but once I did, there was no going back.

Life on this Island, with its red soil and fresh ocean breezes is akin to drinking a tonic. Until I returned, I had no idea what was missing from my life!

Home from away~                                                                                                         Photo: ELR

 

Home From Away: Introduction

A rocky path of Island sandstone leads you to a sandy beach.                                                                         Photo: Angie Dunn

“There’s a rhythm of life here on this Island; like a pulse, ever so subtle.” ELR  

For seventeen years, I dreamed of moving home. “Home” is an Island, and Canada’s smallest province nestled on the East Coast, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. This book blog is about Prince Edward Island; my home. I have dedicated the content to showcase rural Prince Edward Island from my perspective alone. Born and raised in a rural community, near the little seaside town of Souris, it is totally my subjective, and personal view of life, people, and culture, in a place for which I have great affection.

Welcome to Souris!             Photo: Angie Dunn

I did not include the obvious, in other words, information you can find in a tourist guide. My aim is to take you on an adventure; to discover the things I love about this quaint little Island; through personal glimpses of century old graveyards, back roads, farms and fishing villages, and more importantly, the lives of local, everyday people. Look real close, because some of the scenes and subject matter may be in your own backyard!

Welcome to this “up close and personal” look at Prince Edward Island; where the quality of life is second to none; where people look you in the eye and say a friendly hello; or wave to you in passing; whether they know you or not. Far removed from metropolitan perpetual haste, the laid-back, unhurried pace is guaranteed to work its magic on your soul.

One of many stunning sunsets on the Montague River.                                             Photo: ELR

I had a dream. I am content. And I am, finally, ‘home from away’.

Enjoy a  stroll on a sandy shore…no shortage of these on PEI.                                 Photo: ELR

Home From Away

COMING SOON:

The next blog series is from a collection of ‘my Island’ experiences affectionately called “Home From Away”. My blog posts will take you through various seasons of Island life, whether it is a visit to a heritage cemetery or to a small harbor in Eastern PEI for lobster fishers’ setting day. Wherever my blog takes you; enjoy the journey as seen by this Islander who is ‘home from away’.

Sunset on the Brudenell River PEI

A Weekend in the Woods

Website photo of cabin

He said it would be fun; a little get-away of sorts. Spring is here and with it unseasonal cold temperatures. After a long winter I was getting anxious to fling the windows open; open the sunporch and settle in for some spring sunsets and generally spring-like weather. Not to happen. Instead if we get a double digit temperature spike, 10 degrees Celsius is balmy these days.
After a web search we found a cottage/cabin to rent on the Washadamoek Lake, part of the St John River system in NB.

Arriving at the cabin, it was a surprise to see the lane partially underwater!!

The description sounded okay although they underplayed the ‘rustic’ feel. We weren’t looking for the Hilton so anything that put a roof over our heads and a bed was fine by us. The description on the web went something like this: “The water is only steps from the deck, enjoy the sun from one of the two decks or the 75 feet of floating dock.” I didn’t expect to take them literally but they were not kidding. The water was not just steps from the deck – the Lake waters had swollen to a point where the lake MET the deck and had crept over it! The laneway to the cabin was still under water so we trekked through the woods with our ‘supplies’ and proceeded to unpack.

Washadamoek Lake meets the deck!

rubber boots have become part of my ‘shore ensemble’

Thanks to our rubber boots we were able to get to the cabin without much difficulty. Why we remembered to take them is still a mystery. The owners didn’t mention anything about the high water. The cabin was cold and damp so the first order of the day was to crank up the electric heat and put a log or two into the woodstove in the living area. Before long we had a roaring fire crackling in the woodstove and the sloshing of the lake’s waves against the lower deck made for a relaxing evening.

Pre-dinner cocktails; snacks; and tealights for ambience

 

 
We brought all the supplies we thought we would need and while the oven was toasting our ‘Friday night pizza’, we plopped into the chairs by the fire; put our feet up and cracked open a few bottles of libation (we had purchased earlier at Nan’s country store in Cambridge Narrows that also doubled as the local LCBO).

The satellite TV wasn’t turned on yet and the iPod dock didn’t seem to be working either. What the heck. Toasting our little ‘escape’, we giggled at how pictures and a description on a website could be so deceiving. No matter though, we had everything we needed. It was like being in the middle of nowhere as the area seemed to be only inhabited by seasonal residents. No sooner did I have this thought when I glanced out the front window to see a ‘local’ standing there gazing out at the lake from our deck. Creepy!!! He was dressed in rubber boots (much like we were); plaid shirt and ball cap. It only took two seconds for my better half to jump up and go out to meet our unexpected visitor. “A neighbor” he said…”just looking at the water depth…didn’t know anyone was here”. Yeah right! He asked my husband’s name and without missing a beat he said “Isaac Crocker”. Inside the cabin it was all I could do not to guffaw – loudly! Nosy neighbor indeed!

A woodstove became an integral part of our ‘cabin experience’

There was one restaurant/lounge in the village called ‘Holiday Restaurant’. We met the owners and had a ‘home cooked’ meal that they are famous for. They were down to earth, proud, hard working country folk who had over the years brought the small restaurant from a seating capacity of 12 to the present 40 seats with a lounge section. The Holiday Restaurant is a diamond in the rough and the couple is considering selling the business as it has become too busy for them.
When the weekend ended, we had experienced the ‘roughing it’ part along with the ‘once in a lifetime’ experience of having lake waters right on your doorstep. It is not something I would rush out to do again but we had a ton of laughs and spending a weekend in a cabin where nobody knows you is a mini vacation in itself.

NO kidding!

Chapter 6: The Best for Last

Beautiful St. Lucia at Sunset

We have weathered three major snowstorms in the past month since our return from the sunny south.  Thank the heavens I had this vacation to write about, for in doing so, I was transported back in time to our vacation south and for some brief moments I could relive the sun, sea and sand.

A holiday such as this is indeed a gift; not to be taken for granted.  We turned off all electronic devices while traveling; the only exception was communication with family now and again so they knew all was well.  It took a day or two to get into ‘vacation mode’ and with the help of the sunshine vitamin and salt air; it wasn’t long before we left the snow banks and frigid temperatures behind (mentally and figuratively).  It is a return visit for us…to a ‘Sandals’ resort.  Because of this we are treated to some special events.  One such event is an evening social with all other ‘returning guests’ and a special menu prepared by Chef Rodney.  A four piece band, positioned at the front of the dining room played tunes from all genres and accepted special requests.  They were amazing.

A favorite song of my husband’s is “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong.  When asked by a member of the wait staff if he had a request, I smiled…I already knew what it would be.  The band started to play and a lovely lady sang his favorite song beautifully.  We couldn’t resist.  There was a small cleared area in front of the band and we strolled over and used this area as a makeshift dance floor.  We waltzed while the other guests ate.  Before long the ‘dance floor’ was packed.  The band was thrilled as was the resort staff.  There is no greater compliment to a band than to see people dancing to their music I guess!

The Gift

All Aboard!

Just when we thought it ‘couldn’t get better than this’, we discovered a folded official looking invitation on our bed upon returning to our room one evening.  It was from the Captain and Crew of the ‘Lady Sandals’ inviting us (as return guests) to join them for a four-hour cruise of St. Lucia waters with the other returning guests from our resort.  ‘Lady Sandals’ is a 131 foot yacht which belongs to Sandals Resorts’ owner Gordon (Butch) Stewart. When he isn’t personally using it, the yacht is used for tours such as this.  It just happened to be docked in St. Lucia while we were there!  From our perspective, this was indeed an unexpected gift and pleasure.  We are boaters, so it was a joy to set foot on a vessel of this size and pretend for four hours that it was ours.  We beamed like two kids the entire time.  Hotel staff came along on board to serve food and drinks and to take pictures.   It was ‘wining and dining’ on a whole new level for us!  St. Lucia from the water is even more beautiful and exquisite and the four hours at sea passed very quickly.

Waiting to board…excited? Oh Yeah!

Lady Sandals

St Lucia coves (taken from the bow of Lady Sandals)

Enjoying a mimosa with our resort manager, Lisa.

Lady Sandals bar…and Dean from our resort providing some impromptu entertainment.

Kelly’s Dockside restaurant

We had a day or two remaining of our vacation when Chef Rodney approached us one afternoon in the buffet restaurant.  He insisted that he prepare a ‘special meal’ for us and all we had to do was pick the time and the venue.  He had been introduced to us by the manager of the resort as being from another ‘Island’ and he was familiar with our Atlantic lobster.  He wanted us to sample St. Lucia’s seafood prepared by him.  So a table overlooking the ocean was reserved for us at Kelly’s dockside and we were presented with Surf (Caribbean lobster) and Turf (St. Lucia filet mignon) with red wine sauce prepared by Chef Rodney.  It was divine.  I always thought that nothing compared to our Atlantic lobster.  I cannot say that anymore!  So thank you Chef, for proving me wrong.

To say our vacation to St. Lucia was outstanding would be an understatement.  It has ‘raised the bar’ substantially and all other vacations (past and future) will now stand in comparison.  But vacations are what you make of them.  We left our Island on this vacation with no expectations.  We were pleasantly surprised.  Till next time…

Chapter 5: Reggae, Rastafarian and Rat Island

Early morning on Halcyon beach

I am not a morning person.  I like to wake up slowly and until I have coffee coursing through my veins I have been accused of being quite antisocial.  No biggie.  I can live with that.  The resort had a little feline community.  In the ‘open to the elements’ buffet, while sipping on St. Lucian coffee, I was entertained each morning by the calico cats that darted in and around the flower beds scaring the wits out of each other (and sometimes the guests).  They were lean, active and well looked after by an in-house veterinarian.  They would sit by your chair and unless you made eye contact, they just sat there.  I could tell it was disconcerting to some guests as cats have an unpredictable habit of jumping up on your lap.  But no, not these cats.  If you gave them a morsel they would eat it and move on…to the next table.  Too funny!  I was secretly hoping they liked frogs.  Frogs croaked from sunset to daybreak.  Never have I experienced such noisy tropical nights!!

Cat watching made for a nice easy laid back way to wake up each day.

Petite calico

In the early morning the beach is deserted and the music around the pool and breakfast buffet more often than not carried the melancholy sax tunes of Kenny Gee.  Nice.  It had been awhile since I played his music and it seemed fitting to hear it here where guests expect a relaxed atmosphere.  But wait.  If you are a pool going person, this music is ramped up quite a bit by mid morning!!  God forbid that tourists should lay about sunbathing or immersed in that book that has been gathering dust on a night table!!  I don’t blame the pool staff.  It is their job to entertain.  By all means, just go ahead and entertain and if I don’t feel the need to be entertained then the unspoken language of ‘face in a book’ should mean…just that… I want my face in my book.  But, oh no!  I swear there must be an invisible message scrolled across my forehead that says; ‘pick me’!  Anyway a polite smile and shake of the head when asked if I was partaking in ‘pool volleyball’ was usually enough to send them away.  But not far.  My better half is MUCH more diplomatic and accommodating.  Off he goes to splash around the pool with a bunch of guests (who were probably as antsy as he) to play the water game.  No problem Mon!  I am exercising my brain, and my right arm.  Those mimosas can be heavy when full right?

Pool volleyball…naahh no thanks!

Reggae music is delightful at first.  We don’t listen to it at home so ‘when in Rome’.  What I loved was to hear the entire staff shuffling along to this music and singing it as well…sometimes at the top of their lungs.  Hmmm…it’s only mid morning and it is not my imagination that the music is now quite loud.  One selection seemed to go on and on forever.  Not my imagination – when it ended several guests exclaimed, “Finally!”  Enough said.  Later in the evening the steel drums came out.  These too were delightful.  The band members looked like they were truly enjoying what they do.

Our information session at the resort included some cautionary advice from the manager in regards to the ‘beach bums’.  I wasn’t sure I liked that reference to the locals who patrol the beach selling their wares.  A couple of days in, though, I understood perfectly fine what he was trying to tell us.  These locals do not leave you alone.  They constantly ‘chat you up’ in their Rastafarian lingo and seem to think it is their duty to talk…and sell…nonstop.  They are friendly enough but after a day or so hearing the same line, it can get tiresome.  They don’t take no for an answer and when some guests attempted to ‘shoo them away’ they were quite insulted.  “Relax Mon, no problem” was usually their standard retort.  But like pesky flies they would be back minutes later.

Local fellow riding off into the sunset

These same beach people do not like getting their picture taken…unless you pay them.  I zoomed in on this one fellow riding a horse at the water’s edge.  It was the horse I was photographing really.  When he rode closer, the rider shouted to several people, ‘no pictures, I have to feed my horse!”  “If you take picture you pay me five dollar.”  Not likely!  He rode up to me and offered to take MY picture on HIS horse… again for ‘five dollar’.  I declined.  Can you just picture it (pardon the pun)?!

The pool was right on the beach’s edge so it was a daily occurrence to hear a local (Rastafarian type) fellow trying to lure the guests over to his (garbage can) full of handmade trinkets.  His tattered hair hung to his waist in dreadlocks. I asked him how long he had been growing it – and he said twelve years.  It looked more like his entire life but I wasn’t going to question it.  I didn’t take a picture – cheapskate me! What I found interesting was guests fed him drinks from the pool bar- all day long.  By evening he was downright tipsy and the chatter got louder and sillier.  He would exclaim that his father tells him he likes ‘the drink’ too much.  No kidding.

Hotel staff are kept busy raking up what Mother Nature leaves

The beach itself was not big but the breakers crashing on it steadily over our entire stay were huge.  Most days the beach was red flagged.  Resort staff was kept busy raking the seaweed from the beach almost on a daily basis.  Apparently some tourists thought the seaweed made the beach look dirty.  A fact – but this is a beach on a Caribbean coastline – what do you expect?

Rat Island

Rat Island. Photo taken from Sandals Halcyon beach.

A small island not far from our resort in Choc Bay caught my attention.  I asked a staff member if it had a name and of course he replied in their official language.  I asked what it meant in English and this seemed to stump him a bit.   He said it was called after a little animal that runs really fast.  “A rabbit?” I asked.  “Yeah, he said that’s it – a rabbit.” Turns out it wasn’t called Rabbit Island.  I learned later it was ‘Rat Island’.  It is more notably connected to a St. Lucian poet and playwright Derek Wallcot who received a Nobel Prize in Literature in the 90’s.  In conjunction with the government and various other parties making up the ‘Rat Island Foundation’, he has proposed the Island become a retreat for artists.  It is uninhabited right now and resort staff was quick to discourage anyone from getting too close to it – kayaking or otherwise.

Stay at One – Play at Three

There are three Sandals resorts on St. Lucia.  They really don’t care where you spend your time – a shuttle takes you to the other two resorts every half hour.  You can use their facilities; pool; beach; golf – whatever is your pleasure.  They only ask that you come back and ‘sleep’ at the resort where you are officially booked.  No problem!  If you are bored…then you can only blame yourself.  The other two resorts were lovely and will warrant a visit in the years to come!

Pool – Sandals Halcyon

Sandals Halcyon

Sandals Regency La Toc – a huge property!

Waterfall at Sandals La Toc

View from lobby at Sandals Grande St Lucian

Waiting for our shuttle – Sandals Regency La Toc

Relaxed, tanned and happy

Coming soon:  Chapter 6: The Best for Last

Chapter 4: Calabash; Cassava and a Cocoa Plantation in the Caribbean

The Tour Continues:

Calabash:

Calabash is a gourd-like fruit that the ancient Creole hollowed out; dried; and subsequently used for drinking vessels, bowls and/or utensils.  In our travels this morning, I saw several trees with the young lime green fruit.  The mature fruit is huge and our resort had one such tree growing in the centre as a tribute to their ancestral roots.  The plant is highly respected. It is also the national tree of St. Lucia. 

Calabash tree with its lime green fruit

Cassava bread

 Cassava Bread:

The thing about having a tour hosted by local inhabitants, this quaint shop would not have meant much otherwise.  The Cassava plant is a root.  It is processed at this little roadside hut and they have it down to a science.  In wood fired ovens they make their world famous Cassava bread; an unleavened true Caribbean artisan bread.  We sampled the raisin cinnamon; plain and banana flavors.  The bread is very dense and a small bitty portion will satisfy. It was delicious! 

Wood fired ovens are stoked from outside Plas Kassav

Cassava bread is a mainstay of the Creole diet and the Cassava Farine is used as a cereal or as thickening for gravies and tapioca pudding.  And it’s gluten free!

Cassava Bread shop sign

Restaurant on the Cocoa Plantation

A Cocoa Plantation in St. Lucia:

With great anticipation we followed our two tour friends into a rainforest(like) Cocoa plantation for lunch (the Fond Doux Holiday Plantation). We were late arriving but no worries a menu was promptly delivered to our table and with some suggestions from our new found friends, we boldly ordered from the menu. Fish and chips were recommended.  I was intrigued.  The fish was a local catch called Dorado.  Well okay – I put my ‘brave’ hat on and ordered it.  Hoping against hope that it would be disguised somewhat and I wouldn’t really see it.  Call me crazy but there are some gill fish varieties out there that are just plain ugly. Turned out the fish was delicious with a few dippy things on the side (like a local favorite West Indian hot sauce).  I opted for tartar sauce…I know… not very racy.  The fries were ordinary but then again I am not a ‘fry girl’. This was indeed dining with the ambience of the tropical rainforest right within our reach!

Welcome to Fond Deux Holiday Plantation

A tropical breeze; a rainforest…ahhh – Bon Appetit!

After our appetites were satiated, a tour guide took us on a quick tour of the plantation – one of the original cocoa plantations on the Island.  (The plantation is also a resort type where you can book rooms/cottages and stay).  Large wooden racks on wheels hold the pods as they bake and cure in the sun.  With even a sprinkle of rain, workers push the trays which are on tracks back into the building.  Here in the rainforest it is constantly raining for short periods of time…so I expect this is a full time job!

A worker quickly and expertly wheels the racks of cocoa beans into the building at the first sign of rain

A cocoa pod was duly cracked and we were offered the milky white pods to ‘suck on’ but warned not to bite into it. 

A cocoa pod is cracked revealing the slimy white cocoa beans – yum

At the man sized cauldron in the middle of a clearing, a young man added some cocoa pod ‘slime’ to the cocoa pods (that had already baked in the sun) in the cauldron.  Then he began his ‘dance’ on the cocoa beans – amazing. I couldn’t resist taking a video! We were encouraged to purchase the ‘cocoa tea’ which we did.  I’m not sure I can get past the dancing feet – so our cocoa stick is still in its package. 

Care to come for tea??

Adding the cocoa pod slime to the cauldron

And then the barefoot cocoa bean dance

Our gracious plantation guide

Chapter 3: The Gift of Personal Presence

The best way to experience the essence of St. Lucia (or any Caribbean destination) is to get off the resort even for a short excursion.  This is not something everyone is comfortable with and I get that.  In our case, a friend of a friend was introduced to us and they live in Castries, the capital city of St. Lucia which is where our resort was located. 

To our delight, L and D offered to take us on a personal tour of St. Lucia; anywhere we wanted to go.  Since it was ‘their’ Island we suggested they take the lead.  Early on a Saturday morning they picked us up at our resort and they devoted an entire day being our personal tour guides on their beautiful Island.  It is with great pleasure I introduce you to “L” and “D” (since I forgot to get their permission to use their full names in my blog)!

L and D – our tour guides for a day (Piton in background)

Piton:  Up Close and Personal

Piton provides a majestic backdrop. Piton was declared a National Historic Site in 2004

Sourfriere at the base of the majestic Pitons

It was a full day bright with hot sunshine and of course the unpredictable tropical rain showers.  There were many highlights that day; this chapter is dedicated to our visit to the crater of an inactive volcano known as Soufriere Volcano and sulfur springs.  It is considered dormant with the last eruption over 200 years ago (most likely forming St. Lucia as we know it). It is the only ‘drive in’ volcano in the world and it sits at the base of Piton, which are two volcanic mountains rising majestically from the blue Caribbean waters.  It is one of their main tourist attractions and the number of vehicles and rain forest jeeps coming and going did attest to that.  The smell of sulfur (rotten eggs like the old chemistry lab days) was really strong, so much so the inside of the truck still had the smell long after we left the area!

Steam and hot mud bubbles from the earth’s core

I was asked if I wanted to bathe in the mud springs.  I declined the offer mainly because I was already hot enough and I really didn’t know what this would all entail.  A ‘visit’ to the springs and baths was ample and I was glad I didn’t partake…the temperature of the springs was pretty hot with steam escaping from them and the outside air was +29. So I cannot imagine how hot they would have been!  As well, the thought of volcanic mud (albeit a healing sulfur mud) in every orifice of my body just didn’t appeal.  Watching mud bubble out of the center of the crater was surreal.  A young local resident told me later “If you can’t smell the sulfur…run!”  Thankfully she wasn’t handy when I was taking a video of the crater.

Steam laced with the strong odor of sulfur

Mud bather perched on a rock as the spring was too hot!

Bathing in grey murky sulfur smelling water!!

Fishing village of Anse La Raye

On the drive back, we stopped at various ‘look-out’ points for pictures and took in the majestic views.  Not accustomed to the altitudes here, I couldn’t get enough of the landscape.  One such view was a small fishing village called Anse La Raye  nestled in a beautiful cove with little fishing boats secured by anchors or pulled up on shore.  The village got its name from the ‘manta ray’ fish which was in abundance when the village was first founded. Today fishing is their mainstay. 

The village itself had narrow streets with locals displaying their fruits and vegetables along the sidewalks.  Dogs roamed freely and roosters squawked in alarm and fluttered away as our truck weaved in and around the streets.  I managed to snap a quick photo of their Catholic church that seemed to take up an entire village block. 

Anse La Raye Catholic church

In stark contrast to the beautiful little children being bathed openly in tubs on the sidewalks and infants with curly little nubs of hair being cuddled in their mom’s arms was the other side of society.  A young man, shirtless and bleeding profusely from the back of his head (apparently from an altercation with another fellow) was unceremoniously put in the back of a pick-up truck with “POLICE” written on the side panel.  Sirens and lights were quickly engaged and we could only assume he was being transported to the nearest hospital.  We assumed right.  This is real St. Lucia. 

Thank you L and D for your gift of personal presence.  It was indeed a day to remember!

Tropical Rain and Rainbows

If you don’t like the weather in St. Lucia – wait 5 minutes.  It’s a tropical island with rain forests and so it is a bit wetter and the climate is unpredictable.  Rain pours straight out of the heavens and the sky is dark within minutes.  Like someone hit a gigantic reset button, the sun comes back out and the daily rainbows appear. 

Rain clouds form quickly over the rain forests in St. Lucia

COMING SOON: 

Chapter 4:  Calabash, Cassava, and a Cocoa Plantation – the tour continues…