Genetically Programmed To Live A Wonderful Fishing Life

Local Fisherman Off Giles Quarter, Saba, Dutch Caribbean
Local Fisherman Off Giles Quarter, Saba, Dutch Caribbean

Another early morning hike down to the harbor, meander along the coastline, and voila, snapped this fellow doing what his family has been doing for more than a hundred years. Came up the Dancing Place ridge to Windwardside and started collecting boxes for shipping.

With three weeks remaining, guess I’m finally winding down. On the other hand, many folks would give an arm or leg just to have three weeks away from the frenetic pace of their lives, so no melancholy me ’til I’m off the rock and in the city once more.

The Greatest Gift Of Life On The Mountain Is Time

Road To Fort Bay Winds Down Below Thais Hill, Saba, Dutch Caribbean
Road To Fort Bay Winds Down Below Thais Hill, Saba, Dutch Caribbean


“The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble — to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills. I produce nothing but words; I consumer nothing but food, a little propane, a little firewood. By being utterly useless in the calculations of the culture at large I become useful, at last, to myself.”
― Philip Connors

Though this quote is in reference to hiking and camping on the mountain, I still think it sums up the essence of my coming here, particularly that last bit. I love the city I live in, but equally do I love this rugged rock, the peace and tranquility of its folks and its setting, above and below the water. People ask me if I miss the city, and my general answer is no, I’m focused on wringing out every bit of distraction free relaxation until the day I leave, and on the plane, I’ll get excited about where I’m going; I’m so much better at living in the moment at this stage in life, no apologies or regrets.

When you walk down the steep and sidewinder curves of The Road down to Fort Bay, you can take a mild detour to climb onto the hill above the harbor, across from Bunker Hill. Rather than looking towards the sea, where the Dutch Navy frigate was bringing in 60,000 liters of relief water to the hospital, the government building, and the old folks home due to our current drought, I looked back up at Thais Hill, which looms over the road, and up to the edge of the St John’s Flat, close to where I live. Never a shortage of new angles, and this one really shows off the rugged nature of this auld rock, forever subject to the wear and tear of weather, the thin wisps of stratus clouds high aloft and skimming the atmosphere. Not bad, Saba, not bad at all.

Violet Ocean, Fiery Sky: Volcanic Ash Makes The Best Sunsets

Montserrat Ash Plume Sunset, Saba, Dutch Caribbean
Montserrat Ash Plume Sunset, Saba, Dutch Caribbean

Just because the fallout of 1900 metric tons of sulfur ash from the perrenially active volcanic isle of Montserrat downwind of us made for one of the best sunsets many recent locals can recall, doesn’t mean I wish for that kinda thing. Sabans tell me it happens around 3-4 times a year. The whole day, Saba was hot hot hot and a bluish haze hung over the island, smelling like rotten eggs. But when night approached, I was having dinner at Scout’s Place in Windwardside and this is one of the sunset images I captured off the terrace.

Beyond The Wide, Wild Blue Yonder Lies Da Castle Of My Faddah

St Johns, Saba, Dutch Caribbean
St Johns, Saba, Dutch Caribbean

One Quiet Saban Afternoon

Sorry ’bout the missed post yesterday. I was diving all morning…two months of diving and I finally see my first green moray eel at dive site 3rd Encounter, sitting at the top of The Needle, then we spotted an even bigger green moray–a big fat boy–at Babylon. Rock the house! Saba diving is awesome. Anyhow, I came back from the dive and walked directly over to Windwardside, running around doing errands and forgot about the blog until I got back home late, then I was so tired I conked out as I was posting. Alrighty then.

Snapped this tranquil afternoon from my front yard when I got home from the dive. Byootful, eh?

The Yucca That Ate My Lunch Won’t Be Having Any More Suppers

South Coast From Paris Hill, Saba, Dutch Caribbean
South Coast From Paris Hill, Saba, Dutch Caribbean

Hilltop Pastorale

I talked to Chef Michael from Brigadoon, and indicated I’d like to take another crack at climbing the monolithic whale tail on Paris Hill. Hoping he can come with me, as he’s done it several times before, and it’ll help me to see how before I tackle it. We’ll see. In the meantime, here’s a sample of the gorgeous south coast views of Saba from Paris Hill. I’d like to especially thank the foreground yucca for acting like a mini-sunrise accent to the picture when only minutes before, that seemingly innocent sunny plant’s serrated edges had ripped a variety of tiny holes in my calves when I came over the ridge to the summit. Flora dualism or have I finally reached a point where I’m anthropomorphizing Saba’s durable vegetation as a lame cover for poor hiking skills? I’ll leave that opinion to you, dear readers. Cheers and have a great day!

Good Morning, Saba

It’s day 5, and I’m at Scout’s Place, a restaurant in Saba’s biggest village of Windwardside that has reasonable–if not fast in US terms–WiFi. As this is my first post on Saba, forgive me in advance if my chronology is all over the place. I’ll talk about the journey here in a later post, but if we’re all going to live this vicariously, lets chew on the scenery a bit, shall we?

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Vineyard Cottage, the 150 year old cottage I’m renting a lot larger than I imagined; this picture only shows the front of it. It’s typical Saban Dutch style, as is the whole island by law; corrugated red roofs to channel precious rainwater into cisterns, white sides with forest green gabled wooden shutters on its windows. The yard is amazing, a wooden bench, two wooden chairs, and a whole wooden picnic table in the side yard not visible here. The cottage itself is two big bedrooms split by a rustic living room that leads into a decent sized kitchen with a table and a small Saban stove.

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The views? Well, in modern parlance, they don’t suck. This is my first Saban sunrise on Sunday morning, looking out my front door across my little yard. You see the little village of St Johns a hundred feet below me, the islands of Statia, St. Kitts, and Nevis in the distance, the large grape tree and…what’s that? A white picket fence? My alpha male self would be telling football stories if the whole scene wasn’t so damn beautiful. Really. It’s surreally beautiful here. Pitch quiet…roosters crow, a goat bleets, wind rustles the trees, the occasional buzz of the school bus coming by to drop the kids off at the local school in St. John’s. That’s it – nothing about this island pushes you to finish anything in a hurry, so you simply don’t. Bliss.

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The single undulating road winds up, down, left and right; it’s a great workout for me to walk to the villages. I could blab all day with photos but I’ll save you the reading and space this out. The stories of what’s happened to me on this island already are hilarious. Today at 2pm, a visit with the Dutch island police. Oops. Til then – keep the comments a-comin’.