I'm A View-Junkie

I became glaringly aware of one of my many painful downfalls within 15 minutes into the trail. With sweat pouring down my back, my legs dusty and hair flopping listlessly in my eyes, I continued to go upwards on a meaningless trail. I am a view-junkie. A pure, unadulterated, will-do-anything-for-it view-junkie.
Flash back to the beginning of day three. It’s a hot, sunny day out and Auntie Clarice is wanting to make the short ferry trip over to St John. Mom has rested, Aunt June has taken her pills, we’ve all eaten breakfast and we’re ready to fully cooperate with this plan. We head over to Redhook to the ferry terminal and the St John ferry which leaves hourly. Its only about a half a mile down the road to the condo, but with three 80-something year olds, as perky as they are, its easiest to drive down and drop them off at the door and then have me circle like a vulture looking for parking.
I actually end up running up a little hill, parking and then walking back down to find that they’ve all purchased tickets and we’re ready to go in about 5 minutes. The three of them sit on a bench, chattering happily and giggling like little girls. Put the prospect of a few shops in front of them and they’re giddy with anticipation.
The ferry arrives and three of us stride up top while mom opts to sit below. Apparently she doesn’t like things in her ear and, the wind whistling in her ears constitutes something in her ears. I sit with her for a few minutes and then climb back upstairs to the deck to snap some more pictures of distant St. John and sailboats and the water.
Its already been announced to the trio that I am not planning on participating in their island driving tour. I’m in for something more physical and more exciting. I’m in a for a good long hike! I’ve scoped things out and have discovered that in the late 50’s, a bunch of land was purchased and donated to the U.S. government by Laurence Rockefeller. It was his ideal that this land would be set up as a national park of sorts and so over half of the island itself is indeed a National Park. There are some great trails and a lot of old “ruins” from sugar plantations. A variety of trails leads to different points and most all of them lead to one of many beaches.
Reef Bay Trail is the trail that I’m determined to take. It’s a “strenuous” trail and it not only leads past several old sugar plantation buildings but a mill itself. AND, to boot, there is a jut off trail that leads to something called the Pyroglyphs. I’m not quite sure what this is but it sounds like a trail I want to take as well.
Reef Bay is about 4 miles from the town so I have to hire a taxi bus to take me there. The only problem that seems to present itself is that I’m not sure how I’ll be getting back. I’m toted up to the trail head in the bus and then am given a phone number that I can call for a taxi, but the driver is unsure if anyone will actually come back and get me. Oh well – that’s a problem for another day – or, actually, another hour.
The trail is approximately 2.5 miles, and the Pyroglyphs trail is another half a mile. I’m told that it takes a total of about 4 hours to do the trail in full and that I should make sure to start back up by 4pm as it gets dark. I’m out to beat this time as I’m not completely sure how they’ve judged things. It could be an overweight person who is 90 years old and has a walker to complete the trail so they figure, that should be the benchmark. Or, it could be a Everest summiter did the trail in 4 and that’s the record. Either way, I have told the threesome that I would meet them back in town at 3:30 so I do have a time crunch. But, in the meantime, I’m determined to relax and enjoy the sights.
I take a short flight of rock stairs down to the trailhead for the Reef Bay Trail. Immediately, I’m greeted with a swift downward slope of hill. I start off and, as the trail goes at a 90 degree angle down, my only thought is, that I’ve got to beat that 4 hour time! My one drawback is – what goes down – must come up!
Here’s the thing I’ve discovered as I’ve hiked around the world. The shortest distance from point A to point B is a straight line. The Brits know this and their hill climbing is strenuous, but it’s a straight line up – don’t waste time, get from the bottom to the top. The Japanese know the same, but they put a slight curve in their trail, nothing drastic, just enough to keep a flow going. Other places, same with those gentle curves in the trail. Its straight up and its hard, but you get there in good time. However, Americans love their switchback tails. We’ll go down a few feet on a mountain and then, wham, switchback to the other side. Wrapping around a mountain, back and forth, back and forth. We cover so many extra miles in mere switchbacks that a 2.5 mile trail is actually probably only a half a mile in sheer distance. Reef Bay Trail was no exception even though it was in the Virgin Islands. Half the time I spent just want to leap down off the trail and run to the next section of trail that I knew waited for me below.
But, I dutifully followed the rock strewn dirt path. Through dried up creek beds, over ancient root stumps swtichbacking the whole way.
I came across some old sugar plantation sites along the way and stopped for some quick snaps, but pretty much kept going the whole way until I got to the Pyroglyphs trail which I jutted off onto. It had been a quite hike all the way to here. I had passed maybe one or two other people who politely nodded or spoke a quick hello to me. It was great time to just ponder and pray and think and admire how dense and different things were here.
At the Pyroglyphs trail, I met about 3 groups of people coming out, so I was able to continue on by myself even here. I hiked past rock walls and all kinds of exotic nature and finally emerged at some smooth, sheer rock walls that held small pools at various points. I knew that it had had something to do with some volcanic activity at one time or another – there was a small sign that said as much. I could see across the rocks to the other side where there was another of the same type of sign, which I presumed said about the same thing, but I started to hike over anyways to take a look. Half way across the rocks, I heard some chattering and look down to see a back of mongoose – mongeese – mongooses – whatever the plural is there was a whole pack of them chattering away and taking drinks out of one of the pools. I’m pretty brave, but the bunch of them freaked me out a little and the other sign was kind of in the woodsy area, so I decided that it must indeed say the same thing and so I turned around and retraced my steps. Ah – the Pyroglyphs. I could say I’d seen them now. Again – snap some pictures and turn back on the trail.
Down down I keep on going on the trail until I all of a sudden feel a change in the path under my feet. Its more sandy that dirt now. Not as many rocks – AND – I hear one of my favorite things. I hear the sound of water. Big waves of water making a distant “whoosh” sound. I’m making excellent time! I started at a little after noon and its just 1pm now. I’m super hiker!
Within a short time, I emerge to see a whole sugar mill still standing, but in ruins. I climb around inside shooting more pictures and then head down another trail which comes out at the water. A bright blue beach is glistening in the sun and several people are out snorkeling. The beach front itself is quite except for the strewn shoes and shirt lying around from the snorkelers.
I decide after about a 15 minute break that I should start heading back up just to figure in time for getting transport back to the town. I start up but within about 3 feet, I see another little trail jutting off from the major trail. This one is not marked and you can tell that many various feet have just beat it out of the hillside, but, it’s a trail. And to super hiker – it’s a trail that must be taken. I have several little thoughts swirling around in my head like, it must lead somewhere. Overall, it my overriding compulsion that overtakes me. Its like a neurotic neat freak – that one thing is out of order and for hours and hours and hours, it can stress out and agonize the neat freak until they have to go back and straighten it. I’m a neurotic trail freak – if there’s a trail there – I have to take it. If I don’t, then I wind up back up on top and for hours I’ll beat on myself that I didn’t take that trail. I’ll think about what was on the trail and what I might have missed.
So – take the trail I did. As I’m going up, the other part of my neurotic brain kicked in and I started thinking “there MUST be a view up here!” I was going up hill and the Caribbean was beating the shores below. I’m SURE that this trail must lead up to the top of the mountain and the most amazing view ever and I’ll be one of the few people who gets to see this amazing trail. I kept walking.
Thornbushes grabbed at me. The sun beat down on me as there weren’t trees big enough to cover me, but large enough to cover any view that might have existed below. The rocks slipped from under me, but I continued to hike. Expecting to see come around some bend and be greeted with the sparkling blue waters of the Caribbean, I continued to climb. By now, the sweat was pouring down my back and I was slick with damp and dirt. And the whole time, I was reciting in my head “my name is Alison and I’m a view addict.” I’m a out and out view junkie! I’ll do absolutely anything if I think there’s an amazing view to be had.
Here’s the thing about being an addict – the thing that you think will bring you the most pleasure and will give you that ultimate feeling of completion – frequently does not yield the so expected result. Yes – my anticipated view was squealched by the trail coming to a complete stop at – nothing. A rock, some trees, some scrub brush – and the sound of the Caribbean in the distance. Tantalizing and beating on the unseen shore. I had killed myself for a view that did not exist. Sigh – the lesson of the addict is, learn from the frequent disappointment and don’t go there next time. Remember that it never gives you what you want. But do addicts ever learn? Sometimes, yes – most of the time, no. I know that I’ll continue to take the strenuous path in search of the non existent view – I wish they made a patch for someone like me. But, since they don’t make patches for view-addicts, I’ll continue to climb those paths and sometimes face disappointment – and sometime, be pleasantly surprised when the sea peaks out over the top of the mountain and the sun is setting in a big orange ball in the distance.
To continue with the rest of the story. I complete the trail (stopping at a few point along the way to set the camera on some rocks and do a few crazy timed shots of me lurking among ancient sugar mill ruins. I get to the top and try calling the number given to me for a taxi. No answer. I see one taxi pass but it is completely full and passengers are pouring out the sides of the two lines of bench seats. I wait for another 15 minutes and then decide to call mom or Aunt June and ask them to go and send a taxi up – which they’re promptly told there are no taxis to be had. Long and short – after about 45 minutes, which I alternate between looking at the road and reading my book, mom finally jumps in a taxi and drives up with him as he’s terrified that he’ll come up for me and I’ll be gone….. Seriously – there’s nothing within several miles – theres a winding road that you can’t see past 2 feet of and the climb is straight up – where am I going? But mom comes up with him so he knows at least he has one passenger to come down. When I am picked up – I get a stern lecture from him that at least 5 taxis have passed me and I should have taken one of them. Wow – I must be taxi-blind…. You’d think I would have noticed a big truck with the back cut out and stacked with row after row of passengers seats, painted some exotic purple or red color.
We decide to grab a bit to eat at a local restaurant right on the pier. They serve me the best conch fritters I’ve tasted yet. In fact, I’m tempted in the following day, just to take the ferry back over to get a second taste of those amazing round, conch filled treats! I don’t though – maybe I should have. Hmmm….
One thing is for sure, when we do jump on the ferry back over, we’re treated to the setting sun and some of the best views of the harbor and the islands ever. I did get my view – maybe not where I expected it – but I did get it!

Oh - here's another side note... the other thing I discovered is that I don't read everything completely and thoroughly. I discovered, upon my arrival back into the town in St John a little more about the Pyroglyphs. Auntie Clarice was talking about them and asked if I had seen them and I said "yes" and then she continued to describe how they were prehistoric and blah blah. Come to find out -- I should have ventured over by that little sign because the Pyroglyphs were actually prehistoric writing on the walls of that volcanic pool formation. D'oh! I was so tempted to tell them to leave without me and take a taxi back to that stupid trail and head back down so that I could get that view -- but instead, I bit my bottom lip and got on the boat and sadly went back to St Thomas without ever seeing the Pyroglyphs.... Sad....