One characteristic that I have recognized is my lack of any type of remorse or second guessing in regards to doing this adventure. I’m sure a part of it is that in my world, anything to do with sleep is good, but in general, I haven’t had any eyes wide open, unable to sleep issues because I am pondering what I am doing with my life, nor have I woken up in any type of state where I am panicking about what I have done. It’s been pretty much sleep until I can’t sleep any more, and get up because my body doesn’t want to be horizontal anymore. Hopefully that remorse will kick in eventually, or I am going to be that guy nodding off on the bus stop with a cup sticking out and a sign that reads “can’t work, need to travel.”

I took a last walk around and make the decision that I will take the public bus rather than the shared taxi, thereby saving a whole dollar. Hell, the whole trip cost a big $1.60. A dollar is a dollar when you are trying to recover from paying those fifty dollar rides that I had been getting hit with.

While lifting the bag onto my back, I realized that I needed to get cutthroat with what I was going to carry. In South America I needed to be a lot more stream lined. Well, I hoisted my stuff, dropped off the keys and made the half mile walk to the bus station. The place was rather bus stoppish with bench seats stretched around the perimeter walls, a tiny booth in the corner from where you bought your ticket, and a hot and humid temperature that made my butt sweat. I got there about a half hour early, so it was just a bunch of hanging around. As it got closer to noon, the station filled up with people going to all parts of the island. Finally, a guy yelled out Charlottesville, and we all lined up outside the bus.

I had chosen Charlottesville because it was at the furthest point of the island from the western tourist side. It was a small fishing village with some decent hikes and a couple of highly rated snorkeling areas. As we loaded up, it turned out to be perfect because with my backpack I needed two seats. It would have sucked to have the backpack and my smaller pack on my lap the whole way. Shorly after 12:00 we were off. After we made it through the traffic jams of the city we were off. I knew right off the bat that this ride was going to be a little sketchy. I had taken a similar jont during my stay in Dominica, but that was in a little van. We were in a mid size bus and this guy was bored with his job and looking for excitement. Now I’m sure this guy knows every pothole in the road from driving it ten times a day, but my god. We were running so hard, even the locals were holding on for dear life. Usually, I can gauge how an activity or place is going to be based on how the locals react. Well, on this bus, I could see everybody’s hands grasping the headrest in front of them with a death grip as if they were falling off a cliff. Not more than ten minutes in this roller coaster, the uneazyiness in my stomach appeared. Now, I haven’t been car sick since I was a little kid, but this ride was hell. Sitting three quarters of the way back of the bus and not having a clear view out the front window, the buses long wheel base which made every movement magnified, I was getting car sick. It was bloody terrible. About half way through the roller coaster, people started getting off at their stops. I had to fight my soul to not jump off that bus and beg that person to let me stay with them for a couple of days. I didn’t puke, but it was god awful. I was never so happy to clear that last ridge and look down on a beautiful little bay. We rocketed down the 75 degree road, swerving even more to miss the potholes, and to get me one step closer to losing my lunch, and finally came to stop in the little village. There was only five of us left at this point, three school girls we picked up at the last village, and an older gentleman. I asked him if he was from there which he responded he was. I asked if there was a cheap place to stay, and he just said no problem and to follow him. With my packs on my back, we trudged down the road. We passed a few blocks of houses and he yelled out to someone on the balcony above. The guy said he had rooms and told me to go to the back. The older gentleman bid me a good evening and took off. As I went to the back of the large house, there was another medium size house behind it. He took me inside and showed me the room. It was decent sized with a bed, a table with chairs, and a credenza with mirror. The first thing I noticed was that it was clean. There were two rooms side by side with a huge common area that had a living room area, a dining table, and a full kitchen. I was stoked. He told me $70TT and I countered with $60TT or ten dollars US. He agreed and he handed me the keys.

After a quick cool off shower, I headed off for my usual orientation walk.

Charlotteville is described as a delightful little fishing village. Sleepy, secluded and with an earthy simplicity, it has an appearance of some long-forgotten outpost. Just based on the “Sleepy” part made me want to go there. Right away I knew that I was going to like the place. The place that I was staying at the back of the valley farthest from the ocean. It was probably 75 yards from the beach. Right in front was the school, a library, a church, the immigration department, and then a soccer field. The main street ran along that, and then the ocean. The main street housed all the little food booths, tourist crap, and mini markets. I wandered through them saying hello to everyone. At the end of the road was the sign to Pirates Cove, a secluded beach with the snorkel area running along its two sides. I made the 15 minute walk up the side of the ravine and down the 156 concrete steps to the entrance to the beach. There was a fresh water stream that ran right down through the middle and a little shack that they rented gear and snacks. I had brought along my snorkel gear so I suited up and jumped in. The sand was brown and incredibly soft. The water was crystal clear and just the perfect temperature. I made the swim over to the edge of the bay where the rocky structure stood. Right away I knew this reef was in good condition because there were many different colors of reef and plant life. Most other “reefs” are a monotone color because pretty much everything else has died off and the only resilient stuff survived. This had all the bright colored corals and a ton of different types of fish. As I swam closer to the jutting rocks, the seams between the reef kept dropping off forming chasms. Inside were a ton of fish and corals. When I finally got to the end of the rock formation, the edge just dropped off to about fifty feet straight down. It was amazing to be at a cliff that was right off the beach. It dropped off so far that you could no longer see bottom. Right away I got that uh-oh feeling with thoughts of some big ass thing swimming right up that wall and me seeing my leg sort of drifting on its own to the bottom. Just as I am getting over the Willies I gave myself, I look up and see a six foot spotted ray doing the back stroke after basically swimming right up to me. We both looked at each other before each of us turning in opposite directions. I kicked myself in the ass for not having my camera. I ended up following the edge to the point where the rock formation rose straight up forming the cliffs side of the mountain. As I turned around, the Ray was there just following me around like a little puppy dog. It kind of dodged in and out of the current that ran up the under water cliff until I took a chasm break back into the bay. I was pretty mesmerized by the whole thing. As I lazily swam back to shore I noticed a large bamboo cane that looked like it used to be a fishing pole used by the commercial boats. I went down to grab it when I noticed a little 16" brown with yellow stripes Coral snake. That was the first one I had seen and was totally shocked. This place was truly amazing. I hung around admiring the little snake before heading back in. The only people left was the guy running the place and a super Rastaed out guy with four foot dreads. I told him what I saw and he said that he had just buried a three footer that same morning. I suddenly had a purpose. We sat around and talked a bit. The Rasta guy turned out to be the guy known as Jungle Man who lived in a shack that overlooked the city and bay. He made jungle artwork and sold it to tourists. We chatted a bit more and then I hiked it back into town. I hadn’t eaten that day so I stopped by the little grocery store and picked up some drinks. I then headed over to one of the food shacks and grabbed a beef Roti to go. With food in hand I headed back to my room. After dinner, I showered up and headed back into town. There was a big street sermon going on so I kicked it on the pier listening to all the choir singing and bible thumping. It was a fantastic night with a cool breeze coming off the mountains, puffy clouds floated by with the moon lighting them up, all the towns people just hanging out relaxing, and me just feeling so content. With that I knew one thing, I wasn’t leaving. So, as what needs to happen in life, plans are changing. I am going to cancel my flight plans and stay here a week or more hanging out. The place is just amazing, and its times and places like this that are the reason why I gave up everything. So in the short time, I am going to take advantage of it. So, onward to plan B.