The Wrap-Up

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Driving is such an experience on Statia. First of all, there’s a very humorous element to it. Because of the sun, everyone has the top of their windshield either tinted, or covered in a sticker. If you’ve ever traveled to another country and seen people wearing English writing on their clothes then you’ll know exactly what a road trip around the island is like. Because the stickers have words on them that make no sense at all. I’ve been keeping a running list of my favorites. Here’s the count down of favorites from seven:

7. Live Yuh Life

6. Wha Nex?

5. Feel the Heat

4. Quad Lord

3. Even yo mother

2. Independent Woman Haha

1. Bun Fire

What exactly does ‘Bun Fire’ mean? And why is it in your windshield? That’s all I ever want to ask when I see that car. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m just so confused.

The other thing about Statia road trips (I use that liberally because the absolute farthest you can drive is about 5 miles), is that they have a very deep, existential quality to them if you take the time to notice. Here it is, the deep, dark secret that takes a whole month to realize…

Every road leads to where you want to go.

Seriously.

You have to actively try to get lost on this island. If you go too far in one direction, the road stops. The airport is in the middle. There are hills on one side and a volcano on the other. No matter how you want to get to the bay, you’ll end up there. Don’t know what road you’re on? Doesn’t matter. So basically, wherever you are, is the same as wherever you want to be. And it doesn’t really matter which fork in the road you take, there’s no difference between the more traveled and the less traveled, because they’re the same road. Think on that one for a second.

Sadly, no roads lead down Crooks Castle Bay. It’s more of a disaster zone that you reach by walking through the desalination plant and port authority. It’s a rocky strip of beach covered in coral that I have to patrol once a week. Why? I’m not sure. There has not been a single nest there yet because there’s nowhere to actually nest. A 30-meter strip of sand is about 2/3rds along the walk but I highly doubt any turtles will brave the rocks just off shore. Lynch and Compagnie are the same. No sand, just lots of rocks and death traps. I’m honestly surprised that I haven’t broken an ankle yet trying to patrol those three.

Here’s another abrupt change of topic. It’s illegal to kill animals that come on to your property and destroy things. Now maybe this is the gun crazy American in me, but I think that is absolutely absurd. The pigs have been invading the island and I’ve been chasing them out with a machete. Which, I was complaining to some people, is hardly the right object because it’s not strong enough to actually do any serious damage. I’ve scarred a few here and there, and drawn a little blood, but nothing major.  I even caught a little one the other day and through it over the fence by its feet. But none of it is having the hoped for effect—keeping them outside the botanical gardens. No, they keep breaking through the fence and rooting up plants, some quite valuable and sensitive. They’ve also thrown our garbage everywhere and broken into the kitchen to eat all the dog and cat food.

So we talked to the agriculture office about shooting them. It takes warning the farmer several times, though, before they can do so. But this farmer gets warned every few months when they break out of his farm. Finallyyyy, a meeting was held and it was agreed that if they weren’t gone by this Monday then STENAPA would have the right to start shooting. That got the farmer’s attention and he was out here all weekend reinforcing our fence and patching places they had broken it down. But it turns out, that even if they do break in, we normally don’t have the right to do anything about it. That’s. Just. Crazy.

But speaking of gutting wildlife, I’ve become quite the lionfish hunter. Six in the bag the other day. It’s quite satisfying to get one. But the word on the street is that it’s the most painful thing you’ll ever experience if you get stung. Liv watched someone get stung and they screamed for an hour straight. She, herself, got one in the finger and her arm started turning black for a day. That’s one way to end a dive quickly.

Normally we put them in a bucket and bring them back with us to the office. We have to open them up to see if they’re females or males and measure how long they are. Some days we leave them, though, for situational reasons, i.e., sharks. Last week four reef sharks were getting extra curious and following Steve and I around finishing off our disposed of carcasses. How’s that for an example of when it’s best to hand over your kill?

Last thing I want to say about Statia. When I walk the road into town there is a section near a couple of cow farms that has a lot of cow patties on it. I would normally complain about that except for one difference—they make for the best scenery to walk through. I’m not talking about them specifically (it’s weird you thought that’s what I meant), but what they attract. Butterflies! Clouds and clouds of butterflies that take off as you walk by. Hundreds and hundreds of little white butterflies swirl around as you make your way down the road.