Here you are! Hope it's not too long. If you want to add it the archive, please do. <br><br>Helen<br><br>Pink Beach House, Cooper Island, British Virgins Islands April 2001<br><br><br>A trip to our little cottage is unlike most trips we all take. Usually, we visit one location for a day or two before going on to another spot. In our case we spend "X" number of days, mostly sitting on the little porch overlooking Drakes' Channel and, beyond, seeing Tortola. 6 years ago on our first visit to Cooper we only spent a week and immediately realized our mistake. A week barely gives you a taste of what this island has to offer. You find you crunch everything into time slots in order to "get it all in." <br><br>You shouldn't have to do that here. You have to have those lazy mornings where you stay in bed reading and dozing and choosing not to get up until noon, just in time to make lunch. Or have those quiet mornings watching the boats come and go; seeing if the air will support a kite; THINKING about finding another trash novel to read. Those are as important as strapping on the gear and going diving.<br><br>This year we planned 18 days in that little nest. We left on Easter morning and returned on the 5th of May. We knew that would be perfect length of stay. It wasn't.<br><br>Our plane was a VERY early 6:15am. Last year when I booked the flight it was scheduled at 7am. Throughout the year it just got earlier. We arose at 3:45 and the car arrived at 4:30. Steve was NOT happy. Here are my hastily written notes from that day:<br><br>3:45am Alarm rings. Steve's eyes open but he isn't sure where he is.<br><br>4:30am Leaving the apartment building, Helen realizes that she can't see. She returns to the 19th floor to find her glasses and pet Christopher, the cat, one last time.<br><br>6:30am Sun is seen to rise - from seat 21A<br><br>9:15am In the air over "someplace." Steve refuses to talk to me. Must rethink this departure hour.<br><br>11:35am On our second leg of our trip out of San Juan we sight the new airport terminal being built on Beef Island, Tortola. Might be nice to have AC while waiting for customs but it will be BIG! We'll miss the old cement building and its 40 plastic chairs in the waiting room.<br><br>1:05pm Walked down into town from our room at the Sea View Hotel and ordered lunch at Pusser's. Everything else is closed since its Easter Day. Dire Straits on the stereo, playing the theme from "Local Hero." Very weird.<br><br>3:45pm Steve is asleep in the hotel. Don't dare budge him for another couple of hours. Waiting to hear from the Cooper Island Beach Club about the departure time for the boat that will deliver us to the cottage tomorrow. They will probably leave early since Easter Monday is a bank holiday. <br><br><br>That's where I stopped. <br><br>That afternoon while Steve was asleep I went to find the unmanned desk to call the club. On route, I ran into Ishma, the owner of the Sea View Hotel, who was having a worker weigh her huge hands of bananas that are grown on short trees all over her small property. 20lbs, 13lbs, 14lbs……….. a total of about 200lbs are finally weighed out and ready to be delivered to a local market for sale. I wish I wasn't allergic to bananas. I'm sure these are the best. <br><br>We had dinner at C&F, renown for the best ribs on the island. Got there early to beat the crowds and returned to the hotel with an extra order of ribs for tomorrow night along with the balance of the ones we couldn't finish in the restaurant. This affects the brilliant menu and shopping planning I have done and would, unbenounced to me, simplify my life!)<br><br>Monday morning we arrange for a cab to shadow us around Roadtown. We are trying a new market this year on Ginny's recommendation. <br><br>Bobbie's is smaller than RiteWay but I find it's a much better store. Steve goes on with our cab driver to shop at a wine store on the other side of town. The meat (which we were unable to bring with us from the States because of the H&M scare - more later on that) at Bobby's is a much better quality than at Riteway. The lamb chops are from New Zealand and I know they will be too gamy for my palate. <br><br>I am finding everything I need in the produce section when Steve appears. The wine store is closed. Holiday. But he is more than thrilled with the selection here. We finish and check out having spent $365 - mostly on wine. The rum he has chosen is expensive because he has decided that the plastic bottles will travel lighter. $9.45 for 1.75 liters. Are you kidding???? We'll take 3! Or was it 4………… We pack all the goods into boxes and put all the meat and dairy in a separate bag with ice and then into a box.<br><br>We arrive at Prospect Reef and find the beach club boat. It is empty. We load our boxes and bags onto it and go off to have cokes. In a few minutes there is some activity so I leave Steve to his sipping and meet the club's new boatman. He had arrived from Glasgow only 4 weeks earlier. Brandon volunteers to put all our meat and sour cream and butter, etc in the club's freezer while we wait for the other travelers. He will stow them in the boat before we leave.<br><br>Finally, everyone is located and 11:30am we head out into the channel. <br><br>From the boat, I immediately can see our cottage on the island. It is unmistakable. That Caribbean Blue roof is my beacon. <br><br>I visit with Brandon. He is from Glasgow, as I have said. I tell him a have a dear friend who lives not far away, in Troon. He laughs and says he has an aunt who teaches at a school in Troon. This surprises me. The owners of the club are Brits and usually have two or three folks on staff from Scotland.<br><br>(Since returning home I have had a conversation with Marsie and she tells me that her daughter knows Brandon's aunt. I shouldn't be surprized, right?) <br><br>In the middle of our visit he turns to me and tells me that he has left our box in the freezer. I laugh and tell Steve that we will be eating dinner at the beach club. Brandon promises to deliver the box to us the next day when he returns to Tortola to pickup their daily ice.<br><br>We arrive on Cooper and are greeted by Curt. Curt manages to restaurant and we've been friends for years. Hugs all around. He asks about our friend Crisy who stayed on Cooper at the club two years ago. Steve and I then head down the rocky path to our little bungalow. <br><br>We find that the damage from the "Backwards Hurricane" Lenny in 1999 is being replaced by Mother Nature. <br><br>To those who don't remember it, Lenny started in the western Caribbean and traveled back toward the West Indies. Hurricanes DON'T do this. This one did. It was November. The leeward sides of islands that never get damage, got damage. The storm surge was so great the all the trees, upwards to 50 feet from the shore line, that got washed with salt water, died. This was amazingly evident on our Millennium Sail to the BVI and last spring, our last visit. This year the pencil cactus is prolific. <br><br>We climb the stone steps to the cottage. Brandon delivers our food and duffles to the beach and helps Steve bring them up.<br><br>Ok, this is where the trip report changes. No daily reports. Many days were identical. <br><br>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br>THE COTTAGE <br><br>Ginny Evans has two properties on Cooper. One is the House on the Hill; up a stone path and perfect for a family. It has a spectacular view. The other is a little beach cottage called the Pink House. It is a studio-like bungalow. It can't be more than 20 feet square and is complete with a kitchen and a porch that wraps the entire front and side. We are within 30 feet of the beach on Manchioneel Bay. <br><br>This year has been dry. A lot of the trees aren't blooming when we arrive and when we check we find we have only about 2 feet of water in the 100 sq. ft cistern. This is all the water there is so we will have to be very careful with our usage. The meter on the solar panels reads HIGH. This is good - we will be able to run the fan in the afternoons and use the CD player whenever we want. Brandon had promised to deliver us another full tank of propane. The fridge and stove are power by the gas. I find extra pillows and unpack a few items (change into one of my pareos) and we adjourn to the porch for peanut butter and preserves sandwiches. <br><br><br>THE FOOD <br><br>Ah, the food. People look cross eyed at me when I tell them I cook on vacation. But the kitchen overlooks the bay and trees. It hard not enjoy the process of putting simple meals together. This year Steve and I made an agreement. I would cook and he would do dishes. This works well. Almost too well. I found myself secretly washing dishes after some of the dinners that he grilled. After dinner who wants to do dishes?? <br><br>I have a program called MasterCook into which I have inputted my Cooper Island recipes. These are very simple meal plans that have minimal ingredients and processes. It's taken me a lot of time to do this but in the end when I create menu plans it spits out shopping lists. And they are more than helpful. How many onions do you need for 36 meals?? It's all in there. <br><br>The interesting thing was that our planning was interrupted by the fact that we were invited to dinner by the neighbors in the Hill House and we had all those extra ribs from C&F. In the end I found that we were able to eliminate our last trip to the mainland for provisions. We simply had a couple more PBJ sandwiches and an extra meal or two at the Beach Club. Note: I DID get tired of cooking. I found myself dreaming of ordering out Chinese……. <br><br>Caribbean Pork Kabobs, Filet Mignon with Horseradish Sauce, Pasta Pesto, Lemon Caper Chicken, Steak with Bordelaise Sauce, BBQ Chicken, Pasta with Sundried Tomato Sauce. These were some of the things we cooked for dinner. Lunches were sandwiches or pilafs or Chicken Waldorf salad or Sesame Noodles. Or the Beach Club where they make the most wonderful play on a BLT with melted cheese. Steve loves their Chicken Roti. I even had their world famous Conch Fritters (which used to give my stomach fits but my taste buds would dance). Truly, people come from all over the Caribbean for them! <br><br><br>THE BEACH CLUB <br><br>Just down the beach and over some rocks from the Pink House is the most intimate little beach club. Cooper Island Beach Club just celebrated their 20th birthday and is a perfect place for anyone who wants the simplicity of our cottage with the luxury of running hot water and switch-on electricity. The folks there tend Ginny's property and are able to make the two houses ready within 3 hours for the next visitors. <br><br>We have never stayed there but we would, instantly, if we ever decide we need to be cared for. They do that well. There is a sweet beach with lazy palm trees that protect those who recline below them. The staff is well trained. So well trained that those who have worked there immediately find work elsewhere in the BVI should they decide to stay and work in the islands. I think that it is probably the most professionally staffed small resort in the BVI. <br><br>Every year when we return we greet those staff members who remain from year to year. They greet us by name and remember our friends as well. It's like a reunion; we ask and hear about the latest BVI gossip and news of former staffers. Toby and Chris seem to run the Club effortlessly. <br><br>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br>A DAY IN THE LIFE <br><br>Morning comes about 7am during April. I awaken to the rhythmic clanking of the halyards on the boats in the bay and lapping of the little waves on our beach. I get up and make a cup of coffee or get a glass of iced tea and sit outside. Steve has permission to sleep until he is willing to wake up. That could be 10am or it could be noon. The first year we visited I made breakfast every day but I soon realized that Steve would prefer to sleep so sleep he does. <br><br>After I have finished my crossword puzzle or a chapter in my book, I consider the wind and go down below and put my kite out for any wind it might find. I wonder what all these boaters must think about this grown woman who flies a kite! Well, she loves it and does it well. I think it only landed in the water only once in three weeks. <br><br>As I play with my kite I look for offerings that the night's waters have delivered to me on the beach. I find another Flamingo Tongue, or a Carrot Cone, or another piece of pretty coral. The water is still quiet with the boaters waking up, making their coffee and silently releasing their mooring lines and slipping out of the bay. Many times I never even realize they are gone until I hear the flap, flap, flapping of their uncoiling jibs hundreds of yards away. I bring the kite in and go up to pour the last of yesterday's ice tea and prepare to make more. <br><br>Some things must be done first thing. A new pot of tea must be made and set outside to cool so it is ready by lunch. Ice cubes must be cracked out and added to the plastic bag in the freezer. Fresh ice must be made so it is ready for the next day. Lunch needs to be considered. Does it need to be cooked and then cooled? The solar bags must be filled with fresh water so the sun can heat them for showers later in the afternoon. That's all. Then you sit down and watch. <br><br>You watch the birds. You watch the boats. You watch the clouds as they approach and give light showers to the islands and then offer you rainbows. One morning I saw a rainbow that curved into another. You watch the Beach Club boat leave to go into Roadtown for ice and provisions. You watch the hermit crabs as they scarf up the remainder of dinner that was dropped the night before from the porch for their hunger. You watch to see if any buds have opened to present the flowers they hold inside. You watch. Hours go by……………and you don't even notice.<br><br>Before you know it Steve is awake and lunch needs to be served. The Scrabble game needs to be pulled out and set up. Or lunch is spent silently reading. <br><br>After lunch you consider a dive or a kite fly or a beach stroll or another nap or more of that trash novel you swore you would NEVER buy but, hey, it's here so you read it. No one will know unless you tell. I will never bring good literature again. Just more trash to leave for the next visitors. <br><br>Before you know it is time for that first rum punch of the day. At 4:30pm you make sure dinner is defrosted and the various ingredients are ready. You find that radio station from San Juan that plays the oldies or put on another Jimmy Buffet CD to sing along with knowing that these are the islands he wrote a bunch of these songs about. In fact, rumors have it that "Cheeseburger In Paradise" was written about Cooper Island Beach Club. You even hear the music coming for the boats STILL trying to anchor for the night. <br><br>Now THAT is part of happy hour. Yours not theirs. Manchioneel Bay is nearly impossible to anchor in since it's mostly sea grass and the grass provides a really bad holding for anchors. Some boat charter companies tell their clients that if that can't pick up a mooring ball there they are forbidden to anchor. We have seen more than one near disaster there involving folks who didn't take the time to assure that their anchors were well set. Steve has been known to shout instructions from the porch. <br><br>Someplace in here we shower. In the flowers. Long palm fronds threaded through a lattice fence, block everyone's view of your body. The outside shower has everything you need. But I brought with us a lovely bar of soap from The Body Shop. Oceanus. How appropriate is THAT? After a sunny day the water in the solar bag is hot. After a cloudy day the water is warm. I love being subject to the environment. I put on a fresh pareo and clip my towel to the laundry line and return to the porch to comb out my hair.<br><br>Dinner is finally started. We need to determine whether we want to eat in light of candles or the setting sun. Most times it's candle light. This year I brought with us a case on citronella votive candles. I have placed small glass hurricane lights around the interior of the cottage. They give the room a golden glow. It looks like a romantic set for a movie. They also kill all the few BAD bugs that chew on my dear Steve. <br><br>Throughout dinner we review the day. Perhaps we had been snorkeling the various sites just off the island and have discovered new fish or bright coral. Perhaps we had spent the day on the mainland marketing and exploring dear shops and visiting with the shop owners. Perhaps we had simply lazed around. We spy lights in the sky and then watch as those light turn into planes landing at the airport. We watch any latecomers to the bay trying to find a spot to anchor. Between 9 and 10 we blow out the porch candles and retire to read in bed before floating off to sleep. <br><br>Then we do it all over again………..18 days this time. <br><br>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <br><br>NOTES FROM A SMALL ISLAND<br><br>Ginny has left a spiral notebook in the cottage so visitors can leave notes for each other. Everyone always tells about the snorkeling or the Beach Club or the boats out front. I've done that year after year too. This time I knew I would need to do something different. I figured everyone would find that reef out front without my two cents worth. There were some things they wouldn't notice without me. <br><br>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br>At 5am Tuesday morning I heard a woman's muffled cry as her boat swung into another in a strong southerly. No damage from what I could see.<br><br>The vine by the shower that always looks like it is dying, is actually going to bloom on our departure. I guess we have had enough rain for it. But not for the cistern.<br><br>The airport searchlight goes out between 9 and 10pm, sometimes later. Doesn't seem to be a schedule. The first morning plane is a LIAT about 8am. From St. Martin? <br><br>Had my first Salt Fish for breakfast at Midtown Restaurant last week. Was really good but watch for bones. It did sit on my stomach all afternoon but I'd do it again, instantly.<br><br>Six short, one long, pause -- Signal light on Beef Island.<br><br>We had a lot of rain showers but could use more. The Oleander is blooming white and pink. The Plumaria is blooming as well though I can't quite reach the flowers to smell their sweet syrup. The Banana Quits are drinking and bathing in the bowl by the shower but have also enjoyed the big puddle on the porch up at the Hill House. That's why we haven't seen them as much this year. The Pearl-eyed Thrasher is a pest but holds a decent conversation. <br><br>Have really enjoyed getting to know Don and Jerry from the Hill House who are also from NYC. We had dinner up there and later cocktails here and we all talked and talked, and talked. Got a rather poor digital pic of the four of us that I will send to Ginny. Spent an evening with them after too much rum punch hanging the dive light off the pier into the water and watching the fish we attracted -- lots of creatures. Saw a wonderful neon green needle fish. We will no doubt be seeing D&J in the city. I'll get a better pic then. <br><br>Steve found a scorpion in the mop bucket. Fed him to the crabs and lizards.<br><br>The planes are landing from the North today. I feel dizzy seeing this reverse direction. I can't see them approach anymore.<br><br>Bobbie's is best for marketing. I don't know why I have never listened to Ginny about this before!<br><br>We bought too much Guava Nectar and rum. If I never see another rum punch again it will be TOO SOON. What will I drink for two more days. The tonic ran out Sunday. More rum punch, I guess.<br><br>Got the kite all the way out today. Brandon stopped by today to visit as I fought the thing. Took forever to reel it in. Steve says there must be 150 feet of string on it. I got sunburned.<br><br>I have gotten sloppy for the past week and have forgotten to make iced tea 1st thing in the morning. This island time has really gotten to me. <br><br>Tonight I successfully lit 4 candles with one match. And to think we are leaving in two days…….such wasted talent.<br><br>DIS is real. I have experienced it. Dreaded Island Fever has overtaken the Pink House.<br><br>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br>GOING HOME<br><br>At 5:45am the alarm rings. We haven't heard an alarm since our last daytrip to the mainland for marketing nearly two weeks ago. I have been awake since 5:30 knowing we would be leaving soon. I was on the porch once to look at the dawn grey bay. No one is up in the harbor from what I can see. <br><br>Steve and I spent the afternoon before packing away everything we wouldn't need in the final hours of our holiday. He had gone back to the Beach Club to pay our tab there. We always ask if they have more days available at the Pink House and they never do. Today they will be receiving their next tenants at 11am.<br><br>I unclip my travel dress from the clothesline and get dressed. I put on some make up and rebraid my hair. Steve is checking drawers and cubbyholes for lost items. By 6:15 we are nearly ready. <br><br>I empty the fridge and pack bags of leftovers for our newly arrived neighbors up the hill. One of the fellows is on the beach watching the morning. I call his name and he comes to pick up the offerings. Guava nectar, some rum, OJ, cheese, bread, some lettuce, a pepper, peanut butter, some rice pilaf. They had failed to do enough food shopping on the way over and hope that these things will tide them over for the rest of their week. We can always tell the newcomers - they only booked the island for a week. Once they get here they realized their mistake. We understand. 6 years earlier we had made the same error. <br><br>About 6:30 we drag our duffels over to the dock. Chris from the club will bring his dinghy over and pick them up. Somehow I thought they wouldn't be so heavy but they are. On the way back down the beach I find one or two more shells. I also find a very small sea urchin shell and knowing it will never make the trip back home without breaking, I place it on top of the radio that the new guy has left while he takes the bags of food up to the Hill House. I smile when I think of their childlike glee as they put their heads in the water yesterday and discovered snorkeling for the first time. <br><br>I pick up my French ticking bag and bag of Sunny Caribee goodies I had bought and Steve and I close the door, step quietly down the back steps and walk up the path to the Beach Club. <br><br>As we walk, we look down to the bay and drifting boats. Some folks are up now. It's nearly 7 and they are considering staying in the anchorage or going on to another. Coffee is being made. Yawns. Scratchy eyes. Few sounds. Certainly no Jimmy Buffet. <br><br>Along the path we pass a Plumaria tree that still has no blooms on it. We see goat foot prints and remainders of hermit crabs that the birds had found. We scatter termite trails. Around the rocky bend, there is the club.<br><br>Folks begin to wander towards the club's boat. Several of the employees are going to Roadtown to do business and the locals will spend time with their families. <br><br>At 7 we get aboard and sit inside. There are no words exchanged. Most people are dozing having worked the restaurant until late the night before. I pull out a last can of Seltzer and pop it open to drink.<br><br>Gently and quietly we motor out of the bay and into the channel. There is no little Caribbean Blue roof to look towards. Only behind.<br><br>I am no longer sad when I leave the islands. I used to try to hide my tears from Steve. The first year we left the BVI, in 1989, I picked a Hibiscus flower to throw into the water from the boat so it would float back to shore and guarantee my return. It has obviously worked 11 times. Now I look forward to seeing Christopher again and the new planters on our terrace at home and later the plants that will come. I have many things to look towards. <br><br>Steve and I breakfast at Midtown Restaurant amongst the BVIers who are heading off to work. It's Friday and they are not doubt looking to the weekend as they visit with each other in a patois that I am just beginning to figure out. He and I order the best eggs, hash browns and bacon in town along with large glasses of OJ. I guzzle my first glass and order more. Finally we pay our last bill and David, our driver, picks us up and we head towards the airport. <br><br>David and I discuss many controversial subjects on route. He is surprised I know so much of the gossip. <br><br>Will Prospect Reef Resort (where our boat docks) really install a Dolphin Dive pool? No one wants it and there is an effort afoot to disallow it. The Chief Minister is reconsidering his approval of it.<br><br>Will the government be able to control the speeding cars that careen down Drakes' Highway by installing speed bumps? <br><br>What about the new two-lane bridge that will soon replace the dear one lane Queen Elizabeth Bridge? And what about the man who sits in a little hut and reaches out a stick that has a coconut shell affixed to its end and collects coins from cars so that they may pass? <br><br>The big subject is of course the airport. Most everyone in the BVI wants it. Those of us, who discovered the BVI as our own unknown paradise, don't. Yeah, the AC will be nice but is the trade off worth it? Will it bring in 737s? Right now the largest planes that can land are only ATR 42s. We are happy with that. Our first year here the only plane that could land on Virgin Gorda was a 6 seat Cessna. I LOVED that flight! Those were the days…………<br><br>Before we know it we are there. David unloads our bags and delivers them 10 feet to the line we will stand in to check in. We pay him and thank him and promise to see him next year.<br><br>Our trip home is a trip home. Not much to say about it other than while we are in line with customs in San Juan our flight to New York City is taking off. We only have to wait another 3 hours and the American Airlines folks take such pity on us they give us emergency row seats. YUM! <br><br>We land about 8:30 at JFK. It takes us two hours to get home between the lack of available cabs and the construction and traffic on various roadways. We walk in the door to a dear kitty who has missed us - neighbors tell us of meows at the door day in and day out. Our Cat Sitter raves about how dear he is and how much she enjoyed him.<br><br>I don't unpack. I don't shower. I make a cup of coffee and crawl into bed. Steve is lost in the shower for what seems hours while I scan the news channels to see if we've missed anything. Nothing. And nothing is mentioned about a little Pink House on Cooper Island on the Sir Francis Drake Channel in the British Virgin Islands where we found our paradise for 18 days in April. <br><br>http://www.cooperisland.com/beach<br><br>