Grenada first week

Grenada
the spice of the Caribbean

Spring 2007

Royal Mt. Carmel Falls.

O Monday Morn! First thing on our second-to-last day in Grenada, we drove up to Royal Mt. Carmel Falls. It's just up the east coast from where we live...about a 25 minute drive. The falls are very accessible and well worth the visit. Although the trail leading to the falls is just off the main road, we had to stop and ask for direction a few times before we found it. Our Grenada "map" has the falls marked on the wrong side of the street. At first, we foolishly drove right past the ranting guy who, it turns out, was trying in vain to indicate the very location we sought. After asking directions a few times, we ended up right back by the very same now exuberant fellow who seemed very pleased to have finally corralled the clueless travelers to the proper starting point. From here, our intrepid guide, Dave, absolutely insisted upon showing us how to get to the falls. Although something told me that following a manic stranger into the forest on what appeared to be the wrong side of the street down a completely unmarked trail was not the most prudent way to start our adventure. But then I remembered I was in Grenada: how else would we figure out where to go?? Off we went! Along the way, Dave pointed out various plants, explained how Ivan changed the landscape in this valley, showed us how to weave a hat or a bag from grass, and indicated how we could tell when a wild yam is ripe.

Dave.

Heather and Peter at Mt. Carmel Falls.

Dave catches a crayfish for us. Neat! The fellow was expertly plucked from the water, and promptly returned after we had ample time to gawk at his misfortune.

A full view of the falls.

It was Dave's lucky day: Peter really took a shining to him and rewarded him handsomely for his service. Then we settled down to a picnic, to enjoy the falls, and explore the rest of the falls.

Peter managed to pick his way across rocks in the waterfall's pool and soak himself under the falls. Myself, on the other hand - I had a much stronger sense of self preservation and resisted the strong temptation to do the same. I don't think I have ever tried to traverse anything quite so slippery as those rocks!

Downstream, the river flattened out for a while and became very shallow in some areas. On Dave's advice, we explored the lower falls. Directions: find "de ladies doin' dey laundry" and ask them how to get to the lower falls. In the background, you can see one of the ladies and her clothes drying on a line across the river. She has washed the clothes she brought, and now she is washing the clothes she is wearing by getting wet, rubbing soap all over, then taking a dunk in the water.

Bamboo Pete.

The lower falls were, as the upper, a sight to behold. A very different waterfall here than further up, this one gently slid and showered down beautifully eroded rock. Here, we found some boys who found a brilliant way to utilize the astoundingly slippery rocks to their advantage:

From the very top of both falls, the boys side down on their bums, bouncing wildly on the hard but slippery slide. Sometimes they were stopped by the small pool of water between the two falls:

Other times they made it all the way to the bottom:

Unbelievably, they somehow hauled themselves out of the water right onto the slippery rocks and walked back up the side to the top for another run.

We watched the boys for a time under the trees, as it had suddenly started to pour rain. Eventually, we made a run for it when the rain let up, but were soon caught in a downpour. The trail itself was super slippery, and Peter ended up sliding down a portion of the way that had turned into a mud slide. We arrived at the car an all-around wet and muddy mess! Happily, Dave came to the rescue again and pointed out a spigot nearby where we could remove the bulk of the mud that had hitch hiked out of the forest on us. A very appreciative Dave also sent us off with a bag full of unripened mangoes. We were thankful for the gift, which we could never use because we'd be gone by the time they were ripe. We offered the fruit to Christine, who was glad to ripen it and enjoy them after our departure.

Heather in a kayak, with the University Club in the background. Just down the beach, there were some wonderful, low, slow and long breaking waves along the shore. Peter was the first to maneuver himself smack in the middle of a wave, wildly trying to keep upright. The water was very shallow, and spiky corals lay just below the breaking waves! We couldn't help but laugh and scream as the waves threatened to dash us overboard, but we both took a number of rides without a tumble. What a thrill!

It was impossible to get enough wave riding in, but we left the coaster riding in favor of touring the entire perimeter of Prickly Bay.

Peter and his ride. In the back ground are moored sailboats, some of which are floating homes, and the land beyond is L'anse Aux Epines, our neighborhood.

We got an up-close look at Grenada's (only) Coast Guard boat. On this day, school children were touring the vessel.

Peter in front of a stretch of mangroves.

Some of the lovely L'anse Aux Epines waterside homes.

By far, the highlight of the kayak trip for Peter came near its conclusion. He got to board a Pirate Ship!

All I could think about was Pirate Jonny, and how he would turn green with envy when he heard of Peter's adventure. I was kindly invited to board as well, but declined. The boat is the home and project of its lone inhabitant. Peter enjoyed the full tour, and fell in love with the old thing. All those gears and pulleys and old ropes, oh my! Peter gleefully noted the dive equipment on board, only to be informed that it was used as needed to keep the vessel afloat rather than for pleasure's pursuit. To each his own.

Mmmmm!
After the University Club, we met with Josh and Ave and headed to the Grand Beach Resort.

Josh is always at work!

Goofy pilot we met at the poolside bar. No, he didn't make me feel any more comfortable about flying!

Pool at night.

Speaking of Josh's work...we can't go anyplace with him without meeting up with his ever-expanding clientele. This evening, we encountered the Jason Roberts Foundation folks, whom Josh had been taking photos of all week long. Jason Roberts (the guy with the blue striped shirt in the background) is a famous football (ie "soccer") player in England whom I understand is from Grenada. He came to Grenada over the summer to run football camps for kids: he seemed like an all-around super guy with a great cause.

After this point, no photos document what followed. Mercifully.

Our flight made a brief and uneventful stop in Barbados, during which we failed to make up any time. That soon became a moot point. Before reaching our flight destination, JFK New York, lightning storms and torrential rain diverted us to Baltimore. As we schemed on a new strategy: flying to MacArthur, renting a car...etc, we grabbed our bags from the overhead preparing to make an all-out run for it when they announced we would not be let off the plane. I promptly phoned our ride, whom my wonderful mother had hired to fetch us around 11:30 pm. Thank heaven she did not drive there herself in the rain...and back...empty-handed. I thanked the driver and informed him we would not be coming in that night. After which, I inquired if he had any suggestions how we might make it the two hour drive out East after hours? He had no ideas. Further, he noted that it sounded as if we were calling from "a war zone." True enough. After three hours on the tarmac, seemingly outnumbered by alarmingly misbehaved children, I'm not surprised it sounded like a war zone, although our predicament was so consuming that I hardly noticed. We were soon informed that the flight crew were nearing their travel time limit. It had already been three hours, and we had to leave in the next 30 minutes or deboard and wait until another crew was able to come and rescue us. While I am in favor of regulations protecting flight crew, I wish there were some small accommodations for passengers. A corral inside the terminal where we could move, make calls, relieve ourselves...and how about a little water? Soda, juice, or even viscous sludge would have been a welcome relief. Water was rationed out in teeny dixie cups until there was no liquid left. It's not as if we were marooned in the arctic circle here - we were connected to an airport! "Lucky" for us, we left before the unfortunate crew could get any relief. We arrived in New York around 4:00 am without much idea how to get the last few hundred miles. We started making calls from the plane once we were on the ground. Peter informed me later that I was harshly reprimanded and even threatened by a stewardess for being on the phone inside the plane (which is perfectly legal,) but again I was too absorbed in my own issues to notice. We hustled to customs and waited for the bags. As I scouted for our stuff, Peter continued to make calls on the pay phones to secure a rental car. Success! We were about to split up and meet at the rental agency when the bags appeared. Thank goodness! We never would have independently found the car rental and met up again! Eventually, we got on the right train and found the rental agency. By the time we arrived, there were no cars available to rent...unless you already had a reservation. Thanks to Peter's foresight, we had just made a reservation over the phone from baggage. It was a bit of a hollow victory. We had to wait while a woman pleaded with the agent for a sedan - not an SUV - because she was terrified to drive in the city in an SUV. A dreadful conversation, which would have been avoided if the agent had only just checked to see if there was a sedan physically available or not. We got underway before 6:30 am and made the two hour drive to my parent's home, just in time to see them leave for work. We crashed for a few hours, then had to get up to drive an hour and a half to return the rental car to Islip (about half way back to JFK.) And and hour and a half back. Wow! We had finally arrived about 28 hours later on a "direct" 5 hour flight that had just one stopover.