Moths to a Flame - Part 10, St Kitts

 

Not much I can say about St Kitts, we didn’t get off the boat. The incessant rain squalls made going ashore a real test, even for the die-hards who were determined to ride the old sugar mill train around the island. With the huge Celebrity Equinox docked next to us, we had created a wind tunnel that occasional roared down the pier, blowing umbrellas back over the heads of tenacious passengers headed toward the security gate at least several hundred yards away. Every time the wind-lashed rain subsided, people would make a mad dash for shore but many got caught between the ships by gusts that could almost knock them over. They were all soaked to the skin, regardless of what rain gear they had on. Many had absolutely nothing but the ship’s courtesy umbrellas. Many passengers just gave up on the umbrellas and plodded forward anyway, dragging their useless, collapsed umbrellas behind them. They looked like they had been sprayed with fire hoses. Ilse and I put our feet up and watched dryly from several stories above.

Several stories above us, several Frigatebirds soar easily, effortlessly, sometimes hovering motionless directly overhead in the stiff wind between the ships. I’m surprised as the five or six birds are obviously using the weather to their advantage, but I can’t help but wonder what it is. We’ve seen them in every port we’ve visited and they usually stay with us until we are well out of port. English sailors called them Man-O-War birds. Most passengers on our boat simply call them  “birds.”  

It had been a gray, dismal morning as we approached St Kitts at daybreak. Heavy rain showers were scattered across the entire horizon and the weather after breakfast did not improve. Two men sitting on the huge concrete, anchoring pillar, in the harbor fifty yards behind our boat, sat huddled together against the foul weather, waiting for the ship’s lines to be thrown to them. I lost track of them for a few minutes in one of the rain squalls even though they were wearing yellow raincoats. There was no way to get on or off the pillar except by boat, and with the waves crashing constantly against their open, concrete, man-made island, I couldn’t help but wonder if they had on life vests. They were out there for over an hour and were drenched three times.

Getting to St. Kitts was different from the other overnight cruises. I watched our position during the evening and noticed the Captain was just killing time. The distance from Antigua to St. Kitts is less than sixty-five miles, so we sailed away from St Kitts for several hours before we turned and sailed back toward the island. The first time I looked we were thirty two-miles away, then thirty-eight miles, then after we turned around, we were down to thirty-three miles from our second-to-last island visit. Secure in the knowledge we were finally headed toward the right island, I went to bed.

Our balcony was protected by the Celebrity Equinox moored across the pier from us. Our sister ship was taking the brunt of the tropical storm force winds blasting the other side of the ship, but also oddly creating a strange wind tunnel between us that relentlessly rain-whipped the passengers who tried to walk on the pier. A great time to read and write, and occasionally tour the boat to see if we had missed anything.

Reviewing my notes from our visit to Antigua the day before, I decided – don’t ask me why – to add up the population of the five cruise ships simultaneously docked yesterday in St Johns. The cumbersome Seaview can carry five thousand, two hundred passengers, which is quite an impact on a town with a population of only twenty-two thousand people. The rather small Grandeur of the Seas carries another one thousand, ninety two and the even smaller Saga Spirit of Adventure, another boutique cruiser, only carries nine hundred and ninety nine. The smallest was the Azamara Quest, the pinnacle of boutique cruising. She only carries six hundred, ninety passengers. Add that to our capacity of two thousand, two hundred and thirty one and you have well over half the population of this port city, which is larger than most ports. If we had been full, as is usually the non-COVID case, there would have been almost eleven thousand oddly dressed tourists wandering around the town falling off sidewalks or taking tours to a short-lived, prepaid trip to nirvana of some sort. Just a different view of the cruising industry and why it has become so important to certain Caribbean countries.

Ilse stops in front of a painting of a tree in winter in one of the main foyers. She doesn’t have to say a word. I take a photo of the artwork which is mounted upside down. We wonder how many people notice the playful exercise in observation. Even better, while strolling forward toward the heliport, we met a steward, busy rearranging his cart after servicing a cabin. I stopped to look at a large color photograph of a young girl wistfully, almost tearfully looking back to her left, hanging next to his cart.“

"Do you know what she is looking at?” asked the young steward.

“No, not really,” I answered. “What do you think she is looking at?”

“I know what she is looking at,” he replied. “Go to the other side of the ship, in the same position as this and you will see the answer.”

Ilse and I walked across the next passage and down the corridor to the same position, exactly across from where we were. A photograph of a young man, obviously by the same photographer, looking back remorsefully to his right hangs in the exact spot. 

We wonder if there are more Easter Eggs, as they are called, on the ship. We are not impressed with the art available in the ship’s art auction, but then again, we don’t cruise to buy art, but we are always curious as to how the ship’s decorators pick their choices for display. Most of the ship’s artwork and photographs are generally bland and unobtrusive, but there are some nice art pieces in the stairwells and foyers.

The rains subsided by late afternoon and by the time we cast off had drifted away completely. Staying aboard has been a relaxing, if uneventful, day and we decided to go top-side to watch our departure. A huge refueling barge that has been alongside us most of the day, casts off and slowly lumbers away from the docks.

Laughter and even plans about visiting echo between the two huge Celebrity ships. Crew members are yelling greetings to one another across the narrow gap that separates us. Many crew members have crewed together, and we found out later, there are even family members serving on several different Celebrity ships. We watch one young girl, dressed as a room steward, standing, talking on a cell phone as she vigorously waves to someone on the other ship.

As we silently move away, Ilse mentions we didn’t get to see any mountain tops while we were here, they were shrouded in clouds our entire stay. As if they were required by the tourist industry, a rainbow appeared just for our departure. Ilse takes a marvelous photo of Nevis Peak, on the nearby island of Nevis that sums up our memory here. Perhaps, some time in the future...  

After dinner, Ilse and I headed toward one of the normally mellow lounges amid-ships, and found people dancing in the lounge and corridor, but there was no music! A host slipped a headset on Ilse and one on me and gestured to dance, which we immediately did. We love to dance and the music was great. Once we had the headsets on, everything made sense and everyone was having a ball. The music played disco-style with no breaks or interruptions and finally after about the third or fourth song, I took off my headset and asked what the different colors beaming from the earpads meant. He explained the control knobs on the head set and showed me the volume and music selection options. There were different colors, one for each of the several different stations available. I laughed out loud, but no one heard me, they were all still dancing. Even Ilse, who had her headset set on blue, listening to oldie Rock and Roll. Mine was set on red. I was listening to Rhythm and Blues. We had been dancing for ten minutes to different music! We probably looked like idiots, but it didn’t matter, we were having a great time.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-11-st-maarten.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 8, St. Croix

 

Standing on the deck watching the island emerge in front of us in the breaking daylight was different from Nassau or San Juan. I could not pick out where we were going. There was no sign of a city or a pier or any place to dock. We seemed to be sailing toward green, rolling hills dotted with occasional houses with pastures scattered in between. Coming in on the leeward side of the island was a nice change from yesterday’s rough water approach in San Juan, adding to the peaceful, almost pastoral first image of St. Croix. The cruise since leaving San Juan has been slower, less hectic as St. Croix is less than one hundred miles away. By the time I see light traffic on the coastal road, I can see the single finger pier that juts straight out from the seashore. There is an old, unimpressive red fort off to the left side. After San Juan, two cars and a pickup truck is light traffic.

We quietly docked at eight in the morning, a new, single finger pier that would accommodate two ships at once. While the ship went through the arrival process, Ilse and I went for breakfast. This time we ate at the Oceanview café, the buffet style restaurant aft on deck ten. The selections of different breakfast foods is amazing and again, there are more servers than diners. I made a note to try coddled eggs next time.

There were only a few scattered passengers ahead of us on the pier as we walked to the security checkpoint, not anything like previous cruises. The atmosphere was exactly opposite bustling San Juan. As we walked toward the security tent at the end of the pier, I noticed the water was so clear we could see under the boat. Three young girls dressed in scarlet red local costumes welcomed us with bright smiles and maps of the island, and we were disdainfully waved through security with the priceless, limp-wristed motion famous around the world.

The second thing to catch my eye was they drive on the left side of the road. St. Thomas and St John, just over the horizon, also drive on the left even though they are in the US Virgin Islands, not the British Virgin Islands. The traditional beep-beep greeting between the locals is a common language in every Caribbean island, but the first time I heard it here, I turned around to look. There simply wasn’t any traffic. The souvenir shops in tiny Frederiksted – the town has fewer than a thousand people – all had bumper stickers for sale that said “Drive Left!” Obviously they were for tourists who rent cars and are not accustomed to driving in the islands.

Not that there were more than a handful of souvenir or tourist shops in town. With only a few exceptions, they all seemed to be owned by transplanted Americans. We were on the other end of the island from where the cruise ships used to land at Christiansted, a bustling metropolis by comparison of around three thousand people. The population of the entire island, world famous for its magnificent beaches is only 40,000 people. All the beaches in St. Croix are free to the public.

The pretty bay front park is a nice welcome to cruise passengers, and the backdrop to many ship’s photographs. 

Ilse and I have done package tours on previous cruises, but usually we like to see a place for ourselves the first time we visit a port, especially now with COVID restrictions in place on every island. We decided to avoid the little buses or taxis even though we wanted to visit the nearby botanical gardens, but it was too far to walk so we simply strolled around the small, odd little town. We were once warned in Charlotte Amalie about straying too far off the beaten path by ourselves, but here we are at ease. We are not carelessly unconscious as we always keep safety tucked in the back of our minds. I worked in downtown Miami for many years and old habits are hard to break.

The town itself drops in attractiveness within a few blocks, so we head back to the fort at the end of the pier, buying my first cap of the trip on the way. The people we chat with are friendly, but disappointed in the small size of the crowd.

I walked around the clock tower checking all four clocks after I noticed the two sides I could see were completely different. A perfect description of St. Croix: what you see depends on the direction you are looking, all four clocks show very different times.

We headed back to the ship for salad and pizza and my first Budweiser of the trip. After sitting on our balcony, reading and listening to our own music – we always bring a Bluetooth speaker – I glance at Ilse. She is sound asleep, holding her head with one hand and her Kindle in the other. There is no one on the pier except the ship’s staff idly waiting under the Celebrity Cruise logo sunshade. The three young girls dressed in bright red local costumes have abandoned their post and are all sitting in the shade of the security tent at the other end, chatting and laughing.

The helicopter landing pad on the bow is opened for our departure from Frederiksted, so Ilse and I, wearing the required close-toed shoes, climbed the ladder to the Helipad, wondering how they transport anyone who isn’t ambulatory up there in the first place. It is a wonderful view, especially as several rain showers began to move down the hills toward the bay. Drinks are served as everyone begins to ooh and aah at the rainbows that seem to be a departing touch from the local tourist board. The ship quietly turns and heads toward more rain showers off-shore.

After dinner we headed to the Sunset bar at the stern on deck ten, our favorite lounge at night. The weather is beautiful and the moon is almost full. Tomorrow is Antigua and a full moon. We can’t wait.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-antigua.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 7, San Juan

 

Day four starts like the others, I’m awake before daybreak. Once again I’m on deck as soon as I’m dressed. A beautiful, warm December morning due east of Las Galeras, Haiti. Clear skies but the wind has barely subsided, it is still whistling through the railing. I checked my cellphone app for all the technical details that most other passengers couldn’t care less about. We are eight hundred and eighty-five miles from Ft Lauderdale and have only eighty-eight miles to go. We should pass the famous Castillo de San Felipe del Morro sometime around two in the afternoon. The afternoon is perfect as the sun will highlight the side facing the channel as we enter. This is, to me the prettiest and most symbolic port entry in the Caribbean, and this time our balcony stateroom will be facing the iconic fortress as we enter the harbor.

During the day we had the opportunity to chat and joke with our wait staff, shop sales people, and several ship’s officers. Everyone was masked all the time the entire cruise, so we quickly learned to read eyes. The eyes speak volumes, and we saw eyes from Indonesia, Venezuela, the Philippines, Korea, and just about any country you can think of. The eyes all speak the same language. We met another Daniela from Venezuela who now lives in Colombia, and still another Daniela who was from Chile, just west of Bariloche, Argentina, where Dany of Supernova Duo call home. We met Feliz, from Manila in the Philippines, who went to hospitality school in Arkansas. Our drink hostess, who was from Korea, told us all how to distinguish Asian nationalities as westerners are at a loss when it comes to the many different far eastern styles and features. “It’s how we cut our hair,” she said, her eyes dancing at her chance to tease our group. We were as at ease with them as they were with us. With only five hundred passengers on a ship that usually carries over two thousand passengers, everyone a chance to interact with other, passengers, crew and staff with a cordiality we had never seen on previous cruises.

I double checked the battery for my camera as well as our cellphones as we approached the coast of Puerto Rico, the mountains behind San Juan visible well before the port itself. The pilot boat approached on our port side – that’s sailor talk for the left side – burying the bow in the heavy swells. It passes and turns behind us to come alongside out of the wind on the other side of the boat. We’ve slowed considerably to allow the pilot to make the transfer, but seas are very heavy. Being on the leeward side makes it easier, but not by much.

A deep-sea fishing boat, probably in the thirty-two foot range, not more than a mile away, disappears from sight regularly in the deep troughs, only its outriggers visible above the waves. We watched the small boat for several minutes wondering just how much Dramamine it would take to go fishing with them.

Old Town San Juan was a marvelous surprise the first time we were here, and we planned our walking tour to include El Morro, but the sporadic rains started before we disembarked and turned into a constant reason to duck for cover. We did some sightseeing through parts of town in between rain showers, but cut our tour short and headed back to the boat. If you want to find a drugstore, all you have to do is watch for the long lines as it seems that is the first place everyone from the ships go. The Walgreens at the foot of the pier does a bang up business every time a cruise ship docks. The first sign you see when you step onto the pier is a warning sign about the one hundred dollar fine for failing to wear a mask. Everyone in every store we stopped in was masked. The crew and staff of the boat were on a tight leash due to the COVID restrictions, and were restricted to crew members only outings.

We had dinner in the main dining room which was even emptier than usual. Dave, our waiter who has been with Celebrity Cruises for over eighteen years, welcomed us warmly as usual, our preferred drinks waiting as we were seated. The service on the Millennium is superb. To our unbridled relief, this cruise has been the perfect antidote to the last one we took some seven years earlier.

We were back on top by midnight to watch as we departed the brightly lit city. Another Celebrity ship, the Constellation, which joined us earlier along with Carnival’s Magic, shoved off just before we did. The two ship’s Captains did a long tete-a-tete with the ship’s horns to the delight of the passengers on deck. We were disappointed to find El Morrow is no longer well lighted at night and the marvelous structure is no longer dominate in the darkness as we sailed out the channel. No problem, we joined the dance party on the pool deck. Always a way to enjoy the moment. Definitely not a Geritol cruise.

Next: St. Croix

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-8-st-croix.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 6, Oh Dark Thirty

It was “oh dark thirty” when I slowly focused on the dim display of the bedside alarm clock. I’m pretty sure the large numbers said 4:40, or something pretty close to it. “Oh dark thirty” was the Air Force way of saying very, very early in the morning. Many civilians don’t know the military says “Oh” in place of the technically correct numeric “zero” when saying twenty-four hour time in spoken English. Trust me, I can make this worse. You’d have to understand that both words zero or “Oh” are redundant. There is only one four-thirty in military time and that comes way too early for most of us. Four-thirty in the afternoon for normal people would be sixteen-thirty in military time. No excuse for somebody to miss a war just because they were sleeping in. But everybody in the military says “oh four thirty” as if they have to define the missing digit. If they didn’t, it wouldn’t be funny to ridicule military time.

I finally found my glasses and confirmed it was far earlier than I expected. It was not pitch black outside despite being in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I knew we were three days from the next full moon but that didn’t seem to be source of the odd, dim light. I pulled the curtains back slightly to see outside. Opening the balcony door was out of the question. The ship was balking at leaving its comfortable berth in Nassau and heading into a twenty-nine knot head-wind over twelve hours ago. We turned south after clearing the Northeast Providence Channel and were now in nine-foot seas. Moderate seas, as I hear the Captain say later. We are one hundred twenty miles due east of Port Nelson, Bahamas as we head toward San Juan at nineteen knots, about twenty-two miles per hour. The wind across the deck was a brisk forty-eight knots, about fifty-five mph. The low white light was from the ship’s lights illuminating the periodic, wind-swept ocean spray that seemed to encapsulate the ship. No wonder we were occasionally shuddering and shaking. It didn’t matter, Ilse was sound asleep as were most of the passengers on the ship.

A small, odd, faint glimmer of light caught my eye on the dark balcony sliding glass door. The dim light appeared to be on the horizon. But then it was gone. I tried to find it it and once again it appeared, and just as abruptly disappeared. Was that a ship? By then I was wide awake staring blankly into the darkness when I realized the pinpoint of light was on the glass, not on the horizon. The light was coming from the hallway through the peep-hole in the cabin door behind me. No phantom ships in the Bermuda Triangle to write about after all.

Sleep was out of the question, so I quietly dressed, picked up my camera and slipped out of the room. I had the ship completely to myself. I’m usually wide awake well before daybreak every single day we’re onboard. This day at sea is no different. I watched our early morning arrival in Nassau the day before, chatting with the only two other people on deck as we watched the beautiful sunrise as we pulled into port. They were both walkers, using the walking path through the chaise lounges on the pool deck before the sunbathers even woke up.

The only people on deck are the same two dedicated walkers I met yesterday, but today we are at sea. They press on, both wearing windbreakers and not stopping to chat for long. I had a reminder from the ship’s app to move my time ahead one hour as we had crossed into the Atlantic Time Zone but I didn’t bother. If my cell phone self adjusts, great, if not I’ll just add an hour… maybe. I haven’t worn a wrist watch since I retired.

I stood on the top deck as the wind began to subside and the white caps began to to diminish. Once again, I get to see my favorite part of cruising, the phenomenal, deep blue of the open ocean. The shuddering subsided as the ocean smoothed out. It doesn’t take mother nature much to remind us we are just small humans on her big, powerful planet. Even though the ship weighs more than ninety thousand tons and pushes over twenty-one million gallons of sea water aside just to float, Planet Earth still taps us on the shoulder every once in a while to let us know we are here at her pleasure.

Ilse and I sat in the room and talked about our plans and promptly forgot about the time change. When we went to the dining room for breakfast, of course we were late. It was quarter after nine not quarter after eight, and the tables were being reset for the next meal. Besides, they were having a tour of the kitchen later. When we realized our mistake, we got up and apologized, told them we were going up top to eat at the open buffet, but Maitre ‘d and our staff would would not hear any part of it. To say the service on the Millennium is outstanding would be an understatement. We were re-seated and served a marvelous breakfast as if nothing happened. We decided not to miss the kitchen tour.

We spent the rest of the day after the tour just exploring shops and facilities, and of course back on deck where for the first time ever, we looked down on a rainbow. 

By four in the after noon, the wind was down to around forty knots but the shuddering snuck up on us occasionally.

After another great meal, we worked our way slowly to the theater for the evening show, stopping at several lounges and getting to listen to our friends Daniela and Seba once again. 

It is eleven thirty when we head back to the room after meeting new people who dance socially distanced from each other. The huge beautiful skylight lounge had a five piece band and exactly seven patrons.

We are two hundred and fifty miles from Puerto Rico.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-7-san-juan.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 4, Nassau, Revisited, Again

 

The sun dramatically rises in front of us as we slowly approach Nassau. The barely perceptible light on the iconic, battered lighthouse flashes dimly in the breaking light as we glide silently, effortlessly past into the narrow Nassau channel.

The 990 foot long, 91 ton ship slows and turns around easily in the narrow channel. She backs into the dock as if by magic. All of the modern ships turn effortlessly within their own length, and they do it every day. The days of tugboats pushing and pulling with ropes and cables faded away years ago.

I usually sleep like a rock, but not on a cruise ship. I’m always awake before daybreak and wander around the top deck looking for opportunities to take photographs. I love to watch the sun rise at sea. Something new or interesting in the morning light usually catches my eye. Besides, I like having the whole boat to myself.

The cruise ships rarely enter port before dawn and this way I get to see when the pilot boats come alongside to allow us to pick up the local pilots who bring the huge ships into port. Ilse enjoys the time to sleep in a little bit, a nice break from the daily routine. And that brings me to another reason cruising is popular with us, time.

Time to sleep-in that doesn’t always happen at home. Breakfast here is just a few feet away, even in your cabin if you want it, and we don’t have to cook or drive anywhere. Breakfast can be just about anything we choose. We always eat in the main dining room the first day as Eggs Benedict are as much a tradition with me as my French Onion soup, and that is one of the few things not found in the informal breakfast line found on the upper decks. The breakfast serving line on deck ten had everything imaginable, but it is no longer self serve. Instead, mask-wearing servers wait patiently to serve what ever you point at, from coddled eggs to custom made French toast and different fares from Asia and the Far East. There are more servers than passengers.

No sooner are we docked in Nassau than another huge ship approaches us head-on as if we aren’t even there. She slows and begins spinning – turning is not the right word – and within minutes the Celebrity Silhouette slips quietly backwards into the dock across from us.

I check on Ilse, who has dressed, and we head down to eat breakfast as the ship’s captain announces disembarking the ship is now open. There are no long lines when there are less than a quarter of the regular passengers to disembark, but we always avoid the initial rush, usually by getting something to eat. We did not sign up for any shore excursions so we had no fixed schedule. We’ll walk into town after the we eat and the crowds have thinned out. We have until 3:30pm so we are in no rush.

We are the only passengers in sight as we disembark onto to the long, empty dock. We take our prerequisite photos next to the ship and wander into town for a nostalgic stroll along Bay Street, stopping to chat with the pigeon man, several police officers, and many clerks and store keepers. The first thing we notice is the bleachers that are usually assembled and in place along both sides of Bay Street this time of year for the Boxing Day Celebration known as Junkanoo, are missing. We are informed by several sad Bahamians that the day after Christmas celebration has been canceled for the second year in a row.

We are immediately struck by the change in attitudes from past visits here. Everyone we talk with is openly friendly. The sharp, usually abrasive marketing atmosphere has mostly disappeared. This is our third time in town, not counting flying in and out of the Nassau International airport where we would fly to Luxembourg, just a few kilometers from my wife's hometown, and the welcome change in the atmosphere seems to be universal. They are obviously glad to see cruise ship visitors back after a year and a half absence, even if there aren’t that many of us.

Nassau is undergoing another port reconstruction as well as major building projects along the waterfront area and in town itself. Even though Nassau is one of the most modern, up-to-date cities in the Caribbean, caution is still required when walking along the streets and pathways. One of our fellow passengers suffered a serious head injury just outside the entrance to the dock when he tripped on the uneven pavement and fell, striking his head. His wife joined him in the emergency ambulance as she requested a hospital check of his injury. They pulled away as we were showing our photo ID’s and ship’s room cards to reenter the port.

After we board, I wander off with my camera as Ilse retires to the cabin to do some restorative yoga. I watch as another ship approaches through the channel, but instead of turning and backing in, it charges up to the dock, raucous Caribbean party music blaring obnoxiously from loudspeakers apparently mounted on every square inch of the ship. The Carnival carnival arrives via the Conquest, a twenty year old ship famous for its youth oriented Guy's Burger Joint^™, Red Frog Rum Bar^® and SkyBox^™ Sports Bar and the Alchemy Bar^®. One of my fellow passengers dryly comments the ship is misnamed, he thinks it should renamed the Carnival Sideshow. Its appeal is definitely the other end of the cruising spectrum from the Millenium.

I head back to the cabin as I know Ilse’s yoga has come to an unexpected end. Our room is only yards away from the source of the oddly out of date music echoing between the ships. I take several photos and notice there is also a lack of passengers on the youth-oriented party boat, the Conquest is as empty as we are. The shop owners in Nassau are going to be disappointed.

Departure 3:47 pm - Someone stood patiently on the otherwise empty dock with his luggage for almost an hour. He was allowed to board at the last minute just as the boardwalk was being retracted. The weather was great, even with scattered showers in the distance. They moved away as we headed out past the lighthouse and turned north toward the Northeast Providence Channel that will take us to the Atlantic for our forty-hour trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico. 

We will have a day and a half at sea.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/supernova-duo.html