We be (road) trippin'

I don't know anyone in New York that owns a car.  Everyone is a backseat driver of course, and residents seem content to leave the steering, braking, and horn-honking thing to the taxi drivers.  In any case, New York is such a congested city that a road trip here is very much a stop-start affair, and more stress-inducing than such a journey really ought to be.

In St Kitts however, we made maximum use of the open road for Day 3 of our big adventure.

Monday - Sarongs, Soldiers, and Sugar
After the gluttony of Sunday, I had the good sense to wake up on Monday morning with no real appetite for breakfast.  Having said that, a friend of Kitty's mum had made us a delicious cake in honour of our holiday, so of course I had a small piece.  You know, just to take the edge off.

I think I was probably really buzzing too, because before we left New York, Kitty had said he'd wanted to take us on a road-trip to explore the Island.  He wanted to do this early in our holiday - similar to a road trip he had done with S-West on a previous visit.  I needed no convincing whatsoever.

S-West was kind enough to let me ride shotgun, by virtue of my being the newest arrival in our group - and the first thing I did was to wind the passenger side window right down; that now-familiar sea breeze was too wonderful to waste.

We sped down the Kim Collins Freeway, named in honour of the track & field sprinter World Champion who hails from St Kitts.

Our first stop was for provisions, and we pulled into the Marriott Hotel complex at Frigate Bay (near where we had dined the night before) to pick up sunscreen and snacks.  S-West and Kitty had both been here for Conferences before, so they were keen to show me the property.  We agreed it's very much like any Marriott anywhere - except for the hot sun and gorgeous pools - and I found some excellent postcards for my Grandmas in the hotel gift shop, so I was a very happy girl.

On the road again, we hugged the coast tightly before venturing slightly inland on our way to the only place in St Kitts where you ever need to buy souvenirs.  Trust me on this.

New batik designs drying
under the hot sun

When you pull up at Romney Manor, you're immediately struck by the immaculate grounds, and all the lush greenery.  It's currently the dry season in St Kitts, so the Manor property stands in stark contrast to the brittle countryside that surrounds it.

The old plantation house was once owned by the great-great-great grandfather of former US President Thomas Jefferson.  Spread out over 10 acres, Romney Manor is now home to Caribelle Batik, a fantastic and one-of-a-kind operation in St Kitts that produces colourful and creative local products - not the "Made in Taiwan" stuff you'll find in gift shops elsewhere on the Island.

The ancient Saman tree

Laden with souvenirs, we moved outside for refreshments at the Rainforest Bar, and sat in the cool shade of the 400-year old Saman tree, whose broad branches spread far too wide to be photographed properly (at least by me).

On our way in the car once again, it wasn't long before Kitty pulled over on the side of the road and we could see an old man hobbling towards us. On his shoulder, he carried a green monkey wearing a diaper.  I've obviously been in New York too long, because that sight didn't even make me blink twice.

We declined the man's repeated offers to have photos with the monkey because we were here to see something much more important.

Kitty had brought us to this spot to view the only surviving remnants of the Caribs, the original inhabitants of St Kitts.  The country has preserved some unique petroglyphs carved into the black volcanic rock, on the site where the Carib chief welcomed the first Europeans to St Kitts in 1623.  The designs may be small, but I thought they were very reminiscent of Australian indigenous artwork and the fact that they are so beautifully fenced off and kept safe was great to see.

Our next stop was Kitty's favourite place on the whole Island, the historic Brimstone Hill Fortress National Park.  Set on the very top of the sheer limestone cliffs, this is real mountain goat territory.  We bought our tickets and an audio guide, and Kitty expertly steered the car up the steep slopes to the very top of the hill.  On the way up, Kitty told us that as a child, he and his school friends would do walk-a-thons to the site, to raise money for various causes.  That this steep climb happened at the end of the school walk-a-thons seemed crazy to me, but Kitty brushed it off as nothing special.

Don't talk - just climb!

But of course the car could only take us so far and we had to haul ourselves up the stone path to the Fortress's Citadel.  Yikes!  Once we got up there though, I could plainly see that the hard work of walking up those hills would have been worth it.  The views from the Fortress are simply stunning - you can really see for miles up there.

The first cannon was mounted in Brimstone Hill in 1690 by the British forces, who were trying to recapture a nearby section of the coast from the French.  The British realised how valuable it would be to attack from above, so they claimed Brimstone Hill and tasked African slave workers with building it to the specifications of British Army engineers.

Brimstone Hill really is a photographer's paradise, but for trivia geeks like me, the onsite museum is a treasure trove of history, memorabilia, and national pride.  Despite bearing the brunt of extreme weather, including the devastating hurricanes in 1989 and 1998, Brimstone Hill is undergoing loving restoration and the effects are obvious.

All this military history and walking around in the hot sun had worked up an appetite and we retired for lunch to another beautifully scenic place, Ottley's Plantation Inn.

The Great House at Ottley's

The sugar cane industry, and the slave trade associated with it, is such an ugly part of human history - and yet in St Kitts, nobody hides from it.  In fact, the old plantation houses - once the site of barbarism and exploitation, have been restored into magnificent leisure properties (though I would still argue they still exist for fat, white tourists).  Now that doesn't take away from the beauty of Ottley's though, don't get me wrong.

Looking back at The Royal Palm
Restaurant at Ottley's

Regrettably we got there a little late for the lunch rush at The Royal Palm restaurant; however, the waitress was kind enough to rustle up some sandwiches and glasses of wine for us - and we couldn't fault our view.

With our bellies full of food and our brains full of culture, we returned to Kitty's home for another quick nap.

How we found room for dinner that night I'll never know, but we couldn't resist a trip to the much-loved local haunt, Fisherman's Wharf - part of the OTI family (where had dined for lunch on Sunday).  Why didn't I pack stretchy pants for this trip?!