Other Paths

As Michael in the Florida Keys will attest, having only one route to get to work can become a major liability, especially when traffic accidents occur. Not being able to quickly dart down a side street when traffic starts to get bad is something I'm still getting accustomed to, living the the BVI. I've written before about how an excavator-loading on the road to my house can make me 30 minutes late for work or, as it did the other day, cause my ice cream to melt as I was held up on the way back from the grocery store.

This morning, I was five minutes from work when I encountered a back-loader that had collided with a jeep in the middle of one of the many switchbacks on Windy Hill. The back-loader couldn't get enough purchase on the steep switchback to move out of the roadway, and a tow truck was going to have to be called in -- an operation that would keep the road closed for around two hours. Had I been in the Florida Keys and on Highway 1, I might have just turned around and headed home. In the BVI though, I am blessed to have at least one alternate route at all times. As it was, I had to backtrack about halfway to town, come down to the coast, and take the long way around to work. In all, my 20-minute commute became 45 minutes. Not too terrible. Still, I desperately missed those side streets and alleyways of my gridded-street Denver youth.

Machinery

Despite my constant reference to all the unusual road hazards here, like roadcows, goats, etc., one thing I haven't quite gotten used to about driving in Tortola is how the construction machinery gets parked haphazardly, seemingly wherever happens to be convenient. You'll come around a corner and nearly run into a front-loader, or an excavator.

We've got two of these guys parked on either side of the road to our house right now, creating a narrow, excavator-lined alley through which one car can pass.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed we don't encounter the excavator-moving-crew when trying to leave for work some morning in the near future. Talk about a bizarre excuse: "I was late to work because they were loading an excavator on my road and I couldn't get around it. For an hour." It's happened before.

Left at the Purple Dumpster

I have written in the past about the difficulty of giving driving directions on an island where there are no street addresses, few street signs, and a general lack of understanding of cardinal directions.

I was born and raised in Denver, a more-or-less cardinally-oriented, grid-based city, rife with street signs and addresses. In such a navigation-friendly environment, I disdained giving directions based on landmarks, preferring instead the precise nature of, "proceed three blocks to Grape Street and turn North (right). The house will be on your right, at 412 Grape Street." What a beautiful sentence. In the perfectly-gridded world of downtown Denver, three blocks is a definite measurement. Grape Street, being named with a green and white sign at every intersection, is unmistakable. 412 means the house is on the East side of the street, between 4th and 5th avenues. Lo! Beauty!

All that changed when I moved to the BVI, where roads were built more as an afterthought to urban planning (ha!) than the basis of it. Roads here follow old donkey trails, and although some of them are named, very few residents have knowledge of these names. Again, there are no street addresses, so you can't look for "14 Nibbs Street", but at least many of the commercial buildings have names, and those names are lettered on their facades. And despite my original insistence on sticking to street names and cardinal directions, the reality of giving driving directions to tourists on a daily basis has forced me to crumble to the necessity of using landmarks.

I was recently giving some hotel guests some driving directions to get to Brewer's Bay. I'd taken them up the five switchbacks of Windy Hill, gotten them past the big green Heineken sign at Rudy's Bar, but was stuck on how to describe the final turn onto Brewer's Bay Road East. It's a tricky 270 degree left that's easy to miss, and relatively non-noteworthy. Searching my visual memory for a clue, I finally struck on it: Turn left at the giant purple dumpster!

I cringed at my reliance on a landmark that could since have been moved, but when I saw the guests the next day, they'd had a lovely day at Brewer's Bay. They knew they were headed in the right direction, they said, as soon as they saw the purple dumpster.

Action Shots

I envy Conchscooter his walks. The BVI in general is not particularly walkable -- few sidewalks, narrow, hilly roads. It is no paradise for strollers.

Nonetheless, I need photos to share here, and inspiration most often comes to me when I'm driving. I see a pretty house, or bird, or sunset. But I believe it is a much more difficult prospect to take photos while driving than while walking.

Most of them come out more or less like this -- roadway, windshield glass glare, blur. I think I was struck by diminishing sun on the pink and white buildings on the hill, but it is obviously the blue building, or perhaps the window itself, that is the accidental subject of this photo.

Sometimes I surprise myself with the usability of the results. This photo could use some cropping -- take out the windshield wiper and the blurry rocks in the foreground. But the pelican, and the ship, and the colors of the clouds -- it kind of works.

Except when it kind of doesn't. A scary angle to the horizon here.

When you hold the camera on the top of the steering wheel, and click away, sometimes your favorite pictures are the ones you didn't even realize you took.

Alternate Routes Part 2

Picking up where we left off on Saturday, as I pass Sage Mountain, I come to

Kilometer 5 --  Ridge Road, heading down the north side of Sage Mountain. Views to the right over Cane Garden Bay are mostly blocked by lush foliage, especially now at the end of rainy season

Kilometer 6 -- I've photographed this ghut before, when it was filled with a waterfall of rain run-off. It runs under the Ridge Road, and helps keep heavy waterflow off the road.

Kilometer 7 -- Bananakeet Cafe and Heritage Inn sit at the first of five switchbacks that take you down Windy Hill and into Carrot Bay.

Kilometer 8 -- Entering Carrot Bay, I've always been a bit confused by this sign.

Kilometer 9 -- Towards the western end of Carrot Bay, there are a few small, neat guest cottages that look like an ideal place to spend a few lazy days.

Another kilometer or so to work and my peaceful drive is at an end.

Alternate Routes Part 1

A few months ago, at my father's request, I posted a series of pictures from every kilometer of my morning commute. A commenter pointed out that unlike his ride of Hwy 1 in the Keys, I am fortunate enough to have a choice in how I get to work. Since I recently moved and my route of choice has changed, I thought it was time for a kilometer-by-kilometer update.

The start point on this route is dropping HB off at his work in Road Town. Near his work is the Virgin Islands Supreme Court, which happens to be next door to the Elmore Leonard Stoutt High School. At 8:15am, plenty of students are on their way to school.

Kilometer 1 -- about halfway up the steep climb of kilometer-long Joe's Hill. This is one of the flatter spots.

Kilometer 2 -- at the top of Joe's Hill. I always take a gander into this yard, to see what animals are milling about. This morning's supply of one goat, one horse, and some chickens is relatively paltry.

Kilometer 3 -- Where the Ridge Road intersects with the Cane Garden Bay Road, I head left to stay on Ridge Road towards Carrot Bay. The food truck always gives me a chuckle.

Kilometer 4 -- The fairly upper-class neighborhood of Doty, near Sage Mountain. Very clean, well-kept houses with wonderful views of the Sir Francis Drake Channel.

My new preferred route is significantly shorter than my old one (about 10 km instead of 16) but still too long to include in one post. Part 2 on Tuesday!

Slow Commute

My apologies for the late post today.

I encountered a bit of weather that hindered my drive to work this morning, and arriving even as little as five minutes late threw off my schedule for the whole day so I am only now getting a post up.

A tropical wave has passed over Tortola in the last 24 hours, and though it seems to be done with us now, it deposited quite a bit of rain during that time, including the heaviest downfall of 2 inches in a little under 40 minutes starting around 8:30 this morning.

Perhaps the most bizarre effects of the tropical wave were some that I didn't get pictures of. Around 4:00pm yesterday, a microburst hit the north coast near Carrot Bay. A little mini-tropical storm, with wind gusts of 60 mph, formed over the area. Limbs came off trees and business' signs were broken. HB and I happened to be driving through the area at the time, and could see waterspouts starting to form about 100 meters from the shore in Carrot Bay.

It's sunny, now, though, and looks to remain so for the coming day or two, so hopefully I'll be able to get a post up at the more usual time tomorrow.

Nice Ride

After my walk down Station Road the other day, I ended by taking a breather sitting on the wall. Watching the traffic go by, it occurred to me that a lot of the vehicles I was seeing may not be regular sights in other parts of the world, and so I made a point to photograph all the non-US spec vehicles I saw.

My task became a little trickier when I realized that I'd been here long enough, I was actually uncertain whether some of the vehicles I was seeing were uncommon in the US, as they are so common here. Like this Mitsubishi Pajero. Do they have those in the States? Where else are they common?

Small- and mid-sized SUVs are the cars of choice in the BVI, as the rough, steep roads demand clearance, and occasionally, all-wheel drive. Suzuki Grand Vitaras are the most popular option, by far, but for non-US-spec, the Daihatsu Terios, pictured above, is probably most numerous.

Suzuki Jimnys, like this, are also very popular and one of the smallest options available. Despite their apparently diminutive exterior, HB reports they're awfully spacious inside, both front and back, although trunk space is sacrificed in the interest of passenger space.

Moving on from the standard passenger vehicle category, the rides get a little more unusual. This Suzuki Carry has been converted from a more van-like structure to make this open-bed truck.

Non-US-spec "buses", like this Nissan Urvan, are by far the most popular options for taxi drivers in the BVI. They carry as many people as a standard minivan, but take up less space, being considerably narrower, and usually with a shorter wheelbase.

 Unusual even by BVI standards is this Peri, from the Chinese "Great Wall Motors". These electric vehicles still have too many safety concerns to be permitted for sale in the US, although market entry has been rumored off an on for about five years now.

Some of the vehicles on the streets of Road Town are unique to the BVI.

Road Town Rush Hour

It strikes me as odd that of everywhere I've lived, the worst rush-hour traffic I've encountered has been here, in Road Town. On an island of only 20,000 or so people, it would seem that there would never be enough movement of vehicles to create bad traffic of any sort, but in fact, the rush-hour traffic is far worse in Road Town than it ever was in Denver.

Although I am not a traffic engineer, it is not difficult to figure out why traffic is so bad in Road Town: there is essentially only one route from the East side of Road Town to the West side, and that is through the traffic circle downtown. All cars going from one side to the other have to go through the circle. There are alternate routes: Main Street for eastbound traffic and De Castro for westbound, but the disadvantages of these make fighting through the traffic circle almost equally appealing. 

There are properly three rush hours in Road Town: morning, noon and night. The morning rush hour starts almost exactly at 8:15, continues until just a few minutes before nine-o'-clock. I had thought that it was caused equally by dropping kids off at school and by people going to work, but since there is no morning rush hour during school holidays, I have come to realize that it is centered entirely around school. Similarly, evening rush hour starts about 4:30, and lasts until around 5:45. It, too is a combination of school and work traffic, although it is not reduced as significantly during school holidays.

The severest and strangest of the three Road Town rush hours for me is the one that occurs right between noon and 2pm. The noon rush hour is so bad, that I once spent 45 minutes trying to travel the mile from Huntum's Ghut to the ferry terminal. I assume it is caused by the entire population of the island going to lunch at the same time -- running their errands and getting something to eat whether at home or at a restaurant. Apparently no one eats in their office, and none of the highschoolers eat at school.

So if you're visiting Tortola for a brief while, you may want to stay out of Road Town during the three rush hours. If you've moved here, you'll get to enjoy some of the worst traffic you'll likely ever encounter.

Backing up

While the driving and parking conditions on Tortola demand a strong grasp of a wide variety of parking skills, perhaps none is so necessary as the ability to drive in reverse with accuracy and dispatch. Although I spent my teenage years backing the cars into the garage to park them at night, my backing up skills had little exercise in the intervening decade.

Living on Tortola, though, I find them getting better every day. After several months, I can finally back out of the driveway at the laundry without curb-checking the left rear tire every 10 feet. I'm still not reversing into parking spaces at the grocery store though; I don't want to have to subject the traffic to the interminable wait that would likely result.

I have also witnessed some spectacular feats of driving in reverse. I've seen folks reverse up the driveway at the house when the pavement was too slick with rain to pull up it. When the neighbors did a bad job parking the other day, and left a gap only about 9 inches wider than our car between their vehicle and the stone fence, HB managed to back the car out in only two tries. Yesterday, though, I saw perhaps the most stunning achievement in the science of backing up that I will ever be privileged to witness. As we drove home up Great Mountain Road, we were following a truck that traversed the whole, steep, two-kilometer stretch, from Huntum's Ghut to the juice stand, IN REVERSE. I doubt that even if I lived on Tortola the rest of my life, I could ever accomplish such deed.

Stick Shift

With our regular car in the shop after catching on fire Saturday night, we're using a loaner - a manual transmission turbo-diesel truck. After driving to work today, I understand why 98% of the cars on island have automatic transmissions, and I only had the minor obstacle of Zion Hill to traverse, not the 1000 ft climb to the house from Road Town.

As I've mentioned before, the grade here is steep, and if circumstances arise while you're going uphill that cause you to slow down, you'll need to downshift. Downshifting in an automatic is not a problem - just pop the gear lever down a notch. Downshifting with a clutch on a hill is no fun, since it's accompanied by a sensation that, should you fail to shift fast enough, gravity will win.


On the other hand, the engine braking offered in a manual transmission car sure is nice for the downhill parts of your trip.

Internal Combustion

I am a little scattered the morning, the result of having to get up at 6:00 - an hour earlier than usual - to get a ride to work. Ordinarily, our Sunday morning routine involves HB driving me to work, but after our car caught on fire last night, I had to find another route to work.

Yes, our old Hyundai sedan apparently decided to thrown a little hissy fit, and after sitting, parked, not running for four hours, started gently flaming around 9:45 last night. Our downstairs neighbors noticed the fire, and hollered for us, so HB was able to extinguish the flare-up within a few minutes using the gallons of water we keep stored in the house. His diagnosis: an electrical short in the ABS computer solenoid caused the wiper fluid tank to overheat and catch on fire.

The firemen who arrived around 10:00 in response to our neighbor's phone call said that this is the second similar incident they've had in as many days, but that in the other case, the entire car was consumed in the fire. We're lucky that the fire was noticed so quickly, as only the ABS computer and wiper fluid tank were really damaged. Nonetheless, we have to wait until tomorrow to have the car towed to town for repair, so in the meantime, I'm bumming rides from co-workers.

New Ground

I took a drive yesterday with the intention of checking out some new beaches, particularly Josiah's Bay and Lambert Bay in East End. I decided to take Ridge Road to get there, and ended up getting distracted along the way by the numerous small coves appearing on the map along the North Coast, none of which I was successful in reaching. Apparently, based on the map of the route I took, if I'd been just a little more adventurous in my driving, I might have actually reached one or two, particularly Cooten Bay.

The result of my distraction was that I ended up exploring many estates that I not only hadn't been to before, but didn't even know existed. As used in the Virgin Islands, an estate is most synonymous with the US idea of a neighborhood or development. Most of the place-names marked on the map of my driving route, like "Fort Hill", "Pasea", and "Wesley Will" are names of estates.

Driving through Wesley Will, Baugher's Bay, and Purcell made me realize that while I thought I had explored and knew the places on Tortola quite well, there are plenty of pockets that are completely unknown to me, and that I probably never would have seen had I not been trying to get to Cooper Bay and Trunk Bay. Now, I have a new interest in taking sketchy-looking turnings on to dirt roads to see what other pieces of Tortola might be hidden along them.

Roadwork

Since the heavy rains in October from Tropical Storm Otto, the roads around Tortola have been in serious need of repair. The force of the water rushing downhill, and flooding the low-lying areas tore up asphalt, carved enormous potholes and caused road shoulders to slough off the sides of the mountains in landslides.Although BVI Public Works cleaned up the landslides, cordoned off missing shoulders and filled the smaller potholes, much of the repair work was beyond the scope of their capabilities, and remained undone.

In the middle of February, though, the BVI government signed a multi-million dollar contract with a local construction company to complete all the repairs necessitated by the October rains. Work commenced almost immediately after signing, as the rough road at the top of Huntum's Ghut was completely removed, and then the concrete poured to create a lovely, smooth driving surface. The large potholes nearby were also filled with concrete to help prevent redevelopment of the same holes.

It was terribly exciting to us, who had driven over the bumpy, dusty, rubble-filled road for six months, to see the work progress. Even the inconvenience of our regular path to work being reduced to one lane was insignificant compared to the anticipation of having a real road once again. Three weeks later, with the Huntum's Ghut project complete, we wondered what would be next.

So far, nothing. The guardrail is still hanging precariously off the roadbed on Great Mountain Road. Joe's Hill Road has a surface that is half-asphalt, half-concrete, with six inches of height separating the two. Similar conditions apply for the roads to Cane Garden Bay. It took six months to truly begin the roadwork created by Otto. Maybe in another six months, it will finally be complete -- just in time for hurricane season.

Road Warrior

On an island that is only 13 miles by 3 miles, spending nearly four hours driving in a day seems like it might be a difficult feat, but that's what HB and I did yesterday. We were aided in our pursuits by questionable road quality, which occasionally slowed our speed to five-ten miles per hour, and by the far-flung locations of our destinations.

Breakfast in Road Town was followed by a trip to the far tip of West End to check out a new beach for us at Smuggler's Cove, after which we headed back home. Our afternoon included another trip into Road Town, a quick trip to Brewer's Bay to see if it had stopped raining there and we could swim, and we ended the evening with a drive out to East End for dinner.

To be able to spend so long driving was deeply gratifying to me, as one of my favorite ways to spend time off with my husband in the States was going for a drive, and I had worried that living on such a small island, that pasttime would be closed off to us. Defeating my expectations, our four hours of driving yesterday actually succeeded in making me mildly road weary for the first time in six months.

Tour Buses

One of the most popular activities for cruise ship passengers is a tour of Tortola on one of the many open-air tour buses. The tours usually encompass about a two-hour drive, including a stop at a beach, or beach bar, and lots of brief stops along the way for pictures. 

For the purpose of attracting the most passengers, many of the tour bus owners have had extreme paint schemes applied to their buses. The most common theme, by far, is Pirates of the Caribbean

Sometimes it's a little hard to recognize the characters, although I suppose that's a reasonable likeness of Orlando Bloom on the right up there.

HB will be disappointed that I did not include any pictures of his favorite bus, which has a Pirates of the Caribbean being attacked by werewolves theme.

Another popular way to differentiate your tour bus from the others, is by making the back window into a creative cutout:

(I'm no more certain than you are what the painting is about)

The owner of this bus has cute back windows AND has used the back of the bus to create a family memorial. 

Some of the buses are simpler than others:

Maybe a few flowers are all it takes to convince you to ride with this driver.

Or maybe you just want to remember where you're supposed to go after the tour is over (back on the cruise ship!)

Then there are the buses that are eclectically unfathomable. 

First we have a lovely scene from Finding Nemo (the paintwork on this bus was amazing, by the way), but then, on the back, we have this:

What a girl whose hair has turned into a waterfall, and who has a skull exploding out of her bosom, has to do with either a) the British Virgin Islands or b) Finding Nemo is anyone's guess.

On the same bus, Gangsta Bugs Bunny wants to remind you:

Morning Drive

Some things about the drive into work this morning put me in a wonderful mood. On days when HB is off, he drives me to work, and we take a different route. Instead of going down into Road Town and along the coastal road, we instead take Ridge Road to Carrot Bay, and then the North Coast Road to my work. I definitely prefer the Ridge Road route, as the views out both sides over the Atlantic and the Caribbean are excellent. It's also about twenty minutes shorter.

This morning, with HB at the wheel, I was relaxing into the ride when I spotted two parrots on the telephone lines overhead. With the windows down, we could hear them chattering and squawking to each other. Shortly after the parrot spotting, "Amazing Grace", played on the bagpipes, came on the radio -- on a station that usually plays reggae and hip-hop. Juxtaposed with the tropical vegetation around us, the parrots we had just seen, this Scottish hymn seemed a little out of place. Finally, as we descended the switchbacks into Carrot Bay, we saw a group of goats in the same spot we often see them in the morning. Today, though, there were a pair of newborn kids clustering under their nanny's legs.

As HB put it: With all these things happening, what a day to have to go to work. But I'm suppose I'm glad I did have to come into work today, as I thoroughly enjoyed the morning drive.

Equipment

There was more construction this afternoon in the same place on the coastal road where I left my shoeprints last week. This time, though, they had a flagger to help guide traffic through the cone zone.

His "stop sign"? A stick with an inverted Coke can on it.

Leaving My Mark

My footprints are now embedded on Tortola.

There has been quite a bit of road construction since the most recent heavy rains in November, and on my drive home last night, I encountered a cone zone. The coastal highway was coned down to about a lane and a half, but the cone zone was long enough that it was impossible to see if there was oncoming traffic. With no flagman in sight, I entered the coned off area, only to encounter cars coming in the opposite direction.

The majority of the cone zone was wide enough for two cars to carefully pass very slowly, however, the last cone was set about two feet closer to the curb than the others, making it too narrow for traffic in both directions.

Stuck in the cone zone behind this offset cone, with angry traffic both in front of and behind me, I thought I'd just hop out of the car and move the offending cone back in line with the others. I discovered the purpose of the cones as my feet promptly sunk an inch or so into a strip of concrete that was not yet dried. Realizing my error, I got back in my car and did my best to maneuver around the errant cone.

So I suppose it's not really my footprints, but my shoeprints, that are visible on the coastal highway of Tortola, just outside of Nanny Cay.

Daily Commute

It's been a little difficult since I've been back to get used to having a daily commute again. My "commute" in Florida was about 5 minutes, and the three months or so without work or a commute of any sort have made me a little soft.

Still, I don't have a whole lot to complain about, because while my morning drive to work is long -- about 17 kilometers and 45 minutes --  it only nominally counts as a commute, as it is pretty relaxing driving.

Here's a map of the drive I make every morning:

The drive starts up on Great Mountain, near the words "Lower Estate". HB and I leave around 8:05 in the morning, and head down Great Mountain Road, through Huntum's Ghut (more on which tomorrow), and into Road Town. I drop HB at his work, in the heart of Road Town, at about 8:15, and then head to my work.

Through downtown Road Town, past the ferry terminal and the old government house museum. Suddenly, I round a corner, and the view tells me that I've left the city behind.

After a few kilometers along the coast, the numerous speedbumps and potholes on the coastal road in the various communities that line Sea Cow's Bay slow me down for a little while. After Sea Cow's though, it's pretty much a free-for-all. I hit about 60kph (38mph), my top speed, during the stretch between Sea Cow's Bay and the incinerator (near the area marked as Pockwood Pond on the map above).

The radio stops receiving when I hit the slightly industrial area near the incinerator, which consists of a petrol station, some large warehouses, and a mine, but this lasts for only half a kilometer, and then it's back to open coastal road and winding turns at 60, until I have to turn right on Zion Hill Road to cross the island to the north coast.

The two or three minutes spent on Zion Hill Road are some of the most enjoyable of my commute, as the homes and business along Zion Hill are especially neat, and the views of the North Coast after cresting the summit are spectacular.

Zion Hill dead-ends into the North Coast Road at Cappoon's Bay. I like to take my time cruising past the brave folks surfing on the swells in Cappoon's.

I usually pull into the parking lot at work around 8:45 or 8:50, and since I don't have to be in the office until 9:00, I get a few blissful minutes to myself to read, or enjoy my surroundings.

Despite the odd inconvenience, like the speedbumps in Sea Cow's, and the lack of radio for the last ten minutes, I certainly couldn't wish for a better 45-minute commute. I get to see nearly the entirety of Tortola, and hardly have any traffic to contend with.