The Bubbly Pool is a small cove located on the north east of Jost Van Dyke. Because of its orientation to the north and west, it normally would be completely exposed to the large breaking waves, we call ground seas, generated from storms and low pressure systems that come from the North Atlantic in the winter. It would be exposed if it weren’t for a line of large rocks that block the entrance to the inner cove such that when a large waves comes rolling in, it steepens as the cove entrance narrows and then breaks over the line of tall rocks. The full power of the wave is broken and a rush of bubbling white water from the wave top enters the pool filling it with white, foaming, swirling jets of sea water, a natural Jacuzzi , so to speak.

I fondly remember the very first time that I went to the Bubbly Pool. I was operating a small boat charter business taking out small groups on “off the beaten track” boating adventures.  On this day I had a special group of clients I really wanted to impress, Tisha Campbell, Thomas Mikal Ford and Tichina Arnold costars of the then popular TV comedy series, “Martin.”

The day of the charter, was cloudy and cool and the ground sea was particularly strong, which wasn’t favorable for snorkeling or exploring remote beaches. I could see that my guests were not too happy about the weather and I decided that perhaps I could take them to Jost Van Dyke and spend some time with Ivan at his campground on White Bay, so off we went.

Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all, I thought, upon discovering that White Bay was just about deserted and the bay was all churned up and the skies were cloudy and threatening. Ivan was there, however, and he suggested a trip to the Bubbly Pool as the conditions for that experience were almost perfect. He gave me detailed instructions on how to get there and off we went.

Meanwhile my charterers were getting grumpy and even talking about calling it a day. There we were on the trail to the pool, which was overgrown with scratchy moran bush and I could see that my guests were getting more and more doubtful about the day and about me.

Then we got to the Bubbly Pool. It was wonderful! The waves were very big, but not so big as to be dangerous. This was a new experience for me as well as for them and we all got totally into the spirit of children at play.

The rest of the day went well also. We had a delicious lunch at Abe’s – Lobsters and conch, and then went to Great Harbor and hung out with Foxy.

Some weeks later I got a package in the mail from my new friends – a complete set of “home-boy” outfits from California along with a nice letter thanking me for what trned out to be their best day spent visiting the Virgin Islands.

In those days, the Bubbly Pool was really a secret as you would rarely, if ever find other people there, but now the Bubbly Pool is a British Virgin Islands  National Park and although touted as one of Natures Little Secrets, is not quite so secret anymore.

To get to the Bubbly Pool, go to Foxy’s Taboo at Diamond Cay on the East End of Jost Van Dyke. From there walk along the water’s edge until you reach the mangroves where the trail to the Bubbly Pool begins. It leads you through the mangroves and then up a small rock face to a field of maran bush.  If the pool is bubbling that day, that is if the ground sea is up, you will hear the roar of the waves entering the pool from the trail as you approach the pool.

Enjoy!

The following account of his childhood in Tortola in the 1960s was written by Curtney “Ghost” Chinnery. Who for several years lived on St. John and was known to recite poetry and tell stories.

Back in the 1960s in Roadtown, Tortola,myself and my companions would spend  time at the waterfront. Reason being was what we, in the way we were, would call “the days of white action,” which meant the days  the visiting tourist would come on tourist ships, battle ships, yachts and power boats which would anchor at Roadtown. Those were times when we would skip school to meet and hustle at the Roadtown dock.

Whatever antics we would have from our gatherings around the rocks and so on we would sell to the visitors. Another aspect of generating funds was using our swimming and diving skills. When the visitors come ashore, we would ask to clean and take care of their dinghies until they return from shopping or sightseeing.

Most of our money was earned by diving for coins. When the dock was busy with people we would get into the water around the dock. Once in the water our job was to convince the tourist to toss coins into the water. By doing so we would dive and obtain the coins.

An example with a clearer view is this. Picture crystal clear water with visibility of 30 to 40 feet and sand below without debris. Now picture anywhere from four to six kids from the ages of nine to fifteen all about in the water shouting:

“Coins in the water,
Coins in the water,
T’row a nickel, dime or quarter”

At the end of the afternoon, we’d gather and tally up our earnings. A good day would leave us with more money than our parents would make in a week or two.

This photo was taken several years ago by Roger Harland, owner of the St. John real estate agency, Tropical Properties. He took the photo from his house at the Parrot Bay section of Reef Bay looking south towards St. Croix.

(Waterspouts are tornadoes that form over water.)

This boulder which appears to be somewhat precariously balanced on top of Carval Rock has been there since anyone can remember. It has survived hurricanes and earthquakes.

My friend Ed Gibney tell me that he once climbed up to the rock and reports that it’s much more firmly placed than it would seem.

It always amazes me how life can find a way in even the most extreme circumstances. Here on Carval Rock are two small fig trees that have found a way to root themselves into whatever soil has found its way into the rock crevices, withstand the wind, sun and dry conditions and yet hang on to life.

I remember once seeing a tomato plant with ripe cherry tomatoes growing in the accumulated dirt on the edge of the West Side Highway in New York City. The fig tree on Carval Rock seems even more improbable.

For more information about Carval Rock see this earlier blog entry, The Shelling of Carval Rock.

The above is a scan of a post card featuring Foxy’s Model Boat Race,” which came before the prime event, Foxy’s Wooden Boat Race,” a happening so popular and well known that it was featured on an official British Virgin Islands stamp

The young man with the beard is Ivan Chinnery, now proprietor of the Stress Free Bar and Local Flavour Campground on White Bay, Jost Van Dyke.

There’s nothing formal about Ivan’s establishment, but it’s oozing with charm and local flavor. Ivan, who I’m proud to call a close long-time friend, is one of the nicest guys, you’ll ever have the pleasure to meet. The bar and campground is frequented by in-the -know-sailors, natives, weekenders from St. John and campers from just about anywhere.

Ivan sings and plays the guitar and on many nights there are impromptu jam sessions, which every once and a while may include such celebrities as Kenny Chesney and Keith Richards.

Once upon a time I was planning on writing an Off the Beaten Track type book about Jost Van Dyke. For some reason or another the project never got off the ground – maybe some day – but going over my notes I discovered some interviews with Ivan dealing with his life and the backtime culture of the island.

For those of you who might be interested I now present this unedited collection of notes:

Interview with Ivan Chinnery 10/1/94

My name is Ivan Chinnery and I was born here March 27, 1943.

I have three brothers Joseph, Albert and Rudy. I have two sisters Evelyn and Ivy, Evelyn Sherman and Ivy Moses. My mother is Sarah Matilda Graham Chinnery. She farmed all her life.

This was the way of life for me that came to be around 1950. In those days the school population was 95 students. The Methodist Church in Great Harbour was used weekdays as a school. The highest grade was seven standard. There was no high school. That was it, you got a certificate, a graduation certificate, from seven standard and that was it.

Population of the island was around 600. There were two teachers. One of the teachers was my Godmother. She was from Batson Bay, above Sidney in Little Harbor. She liked to ring my ear, and she’d pinch you anywhere.

In those days our industries were farming and fishing.

Farming
Four or five men would get together and work one man’s cultivation. They would leave about 6:30 A.M. The wives would prepare the breakfast. Some of the wives who could bring it would bring it. Other than that the man who the work belonged to would go back to the house and bring the breakfast right on the job. And we would put in a good hardy days work. So when we finish cutting the pasture, the woods, we have what we call instant cultivation. And if you’re going to plant, when your turn come back again, then we would terrace. Then all the man would have to do is put his seeds, his seedlings, slips and all that in and instant garden going! That’s self help and cooperation that we had in those days. It was an extension of the way life used to be, because that is the way the people before us survived.

There were as many as eight hundred cows here. Princess Alexandrine Sewer owned over 100 head. Christian Callwood, Foxy’s father, owned about 100 head.

There was a trade in agriculture between the Islands. Agents from Tortola and Jost Van Dyke would buy pigs, cows, goats, potatoes, tomatoes, yams, pineapples, mangos, maubi bark, charcoal – you name it. They would load up their Tortola sloops and sail for St. Thomas, which had a booming economy in those days.

And we are talking about main culture men. Farmers, fisherman, Ezikiel Chinnery, Herman Chinnery, Christian Callwood, Ben Sewer and Abraham Millener, Princess Alexandrine Sewer’s husband.

Fishing
In those days there was no rope. whist, guard whist like that which grows in St. John. You would collect them for days on the dark moon. Twist three till you get to the end of one strand and then tie a knot. Then tie another and keep weaving till you have maybe 35 fathoms. The fish pots were made of whist. We would sometimes mix the whist with birch sticks. The traps would be weighted down with two stones. We didn’t have fish trap buoys then. When someone would go to St. Thomas, and they had a friend with WAPA, they would get old telephone poles and cut them and then quarter them and carve a neck to tie up to. They would last about six months and then they would get heavy. Then you would rotate them and put the old one in the sun to dry, and it would get light again.

In those days when we would catch lobster. We would break their backs with a stick and put them in the pots for bait. The butterfish, hind, oldwife and grouper that they attracted to the lobster were much more desirable then. Later when there was a good market for lobster, we would catch lobsters. When I was young there was no diving, as there was no diving glasses. We would hunt lobsters at night in the shallows. We used a coconut stalk and burn it, and have one ready when that one went out. It was very bight, and the lobsters would be attracted to it. We used a forked stick to pin the lobsters, and then someone would put them in a crocus sack.

Some of the men were farmers, and they would never go out in boats, but they would fish from the land. They would chum with soldier crabs pounded up with sand. The lobsters would come up and eat the chum and they would be able to catch them on hook and line. You had to pull them in fast as the lobster could file the hook and you would lose it.

A Hunting Story
It was winter, and the ground sea was so strong that you could hear it pound the cliffs on the north side. Enrique George was out on the north shore hunting goats with his two dogs. He didn’t return.

The next day we organized a search party and radioed Tortola for help. The police from Tortola found his shoes on Mutton rock. He probably took off his shoes for better footing when he went down with his dog after the goat. One of the dogs was also missing. A great wave from the ground sea must have washed him into the sea from the cliffs high above the north shore.

Walk to Mill Round with Ivan Chinnery 10/6/94

We meet Ivan at seven AM by Foxy’s. It’s quiet and people are sweeping up and starting their day. Sand flies; Skin so Soft works against them! Ceddy is there. Ivan’s daughter comes down the hill to go to school. The trail starts at the western end of Great Harbor west of Rudy’s Place. A lady is calling her goats and they come. Everyone is friendly.

This trail has been here since the days of slavery. It has been called Plantation Road. This is the Plantation Road that leads us over to Mill Round, one of the old mills where they used to process the sugar cane into sugar. So that’s where we’re headed now.

We pass an overlook. There we see a Maubi tree which has been totally stripped of its bark for the making of Maubi. This, (Ivan tells us) is the wrong way to get the bark. This will kill the tree. If the tree was cut back and the bark removed from the cut back pieces, the tree would live. It would be even more prolific in the production of new branches, and there would be even more bark for the Maubi.

Nearby is a Turpentine tree with a hollowed out area. There is a active beehive in the hollow. Ivan see’s some whist vine.

Remember I was talking to you about how line for fish pots was made. We take three of them together, and then we start twisting or lapping them over each other. Firstly we got to put a stop. These are straight veined. We twist this one to prevent breaking and tie a knot as a stop. After we make that we start to twist. When we get to the end of the shortest one we do when we make another stop for a rejoining. The stop also helps you to pull up the trap by giving you a good hold, that’s extra. We knot the new one and start again. And we will continue with that process until we get to about 210 feet or 35 fathoms. That was the average amount of line needed to set the fish traps.

To make the trap itself we split the whist down the middle. We usually get a big piece of sail canvas and put it on our knee. Then we get a good sharp knife and spilt the whist, and take the bark off the other side. Now we can commence to start weaving the fish trap. I don’t make them, but this will give you an idea about how it’s done. One of my brother makes them. As you can see there is mesh number one. This type of fish trap will catch more fish then the modern kind made of rebar and tying wire. Number one, it’s natural. Number two it sends off a natural fragrance which attracts them.

That rock we call it Sarah Rock. That entire mountain, we call it Hatchet Hill. Sarah rock up on top Hatchet Hill. Sarah is my mother’s name. See here where you see this piece of fence. She used to raise lots of goats. She is retired now and she’s ill. My mother farmed all her life. She was a farmer, one of the strongest farmers on this island, you know, and being a woman! She farmed all her life. She farmed from cows to goats… Come over here I’ll show you. Her last farming area was on the mountain, on the left ridge, up there. (He points to the ridge top way up on the mountain about 800 feet high.)

Look way up there in the valley to the right. That’s my farm you’re looking at up there. You see the huge trees up in the middle with the trail to the left. I scooped that out of the forest and made my farm. Those are avocados and mangos.

There used to be about 100 head of cows on the island. Now there’s only a few. Modern technology wiped everything out. The Pueblo the Grand Union the poli – tricks and the hypocrites. Now they can bring their frozen cows in from Miami. Little Jost Van Dyke and little Tortola are threats to their marketing thing. The cows got to go to the veterinarian now because they claim they got the fever. We’ve been eating them for centuries and all of a sudden the modern business come in and something is wrong.

(We come to Mill Round)
That structure you see is part of the old sugar mill. Welcome to Mill Round. We are going inside and we’ll do a little exploring. All this stuff was brought in by sea. The mortar was made from sand, coral rock water and molasses. You notice these bricks they come from England. There are three types, red, white and these with charcoal in them.

From here we can get a good look at the Atlantic out there. That island is Tobago and that there is North Side Bay.

Let me tell you about the church. The original church was made out of wood. It was blown down by the hurricane of 1924. Part of the roof was blown to St. John on the north shore. After that they built a new church in 1925. The year is engraved right there on the face of the church.

And that’s where I got my schooling, in that church. It was Methodist. John Wesley he move in. Methodism took over. That is our dominant religion. So that was a church and a school since 1925, until about the early 1970′s when the government built us a school.

After slavery the landowners gave the land to the people and went back to England. People survived by farming and fishing. All these hills were cultivated either for the grazing of animals or the raising of crops. In those days a lot of rain used to fall.

A lot of charcoal was made up here. You had to carry down charcoal on your back in crocus bags. Three or four five gallon pails will fit in one bag. They have what they call a cahtah. You know what a cahtah is? You get a towel and you twist it around like a wreath and then you use it for a padding. You put it on your shoulder and your head and then you put the charcoal bag on that. If you have a donkey, the donkey will carry two crocus bags at a time.

1975 I start my farm. You won’t believe the huge avocado and mango trees that are up there. Some grafted some from seed. My biggest mango weighed four pounds. There ain’t no way you could eat one. If you eat one, you don’t want no more, and you rest man! When I carry one of those size home, it shares for my family my wife and two girls. Four pounds, four people. It’s a hybrid from Puerto Rico. I got it from my good friend, John Gibney.

I have this one tree. She’s a Vietnamese mango. It’s from John. When they come and when I take them by Foxy’s, Foxy bar will buy any amount. It makes a great mango drink. Because there’s no hairs no fuzz, and the blender just melts them up. Oh man, you add a little rum, a little touch of the coconut, um! Nothing’ sweeter, nothing’ more delicious!”

(We walk by the well in Great Harbor. It’s surrounded by black rock and looks very old.) As you can see this is one of our original wells. This been here for 100s of years. It’s still intact. And that is spring water. Fresh water. Nice tasting water. If I had a bucket I’d drink some right now. It has all of the minerals.

(About the campground in White Bay) Actually I started clearing the grounds for this project in November 1991 and it took me about a year of landscaping, cutting and digging roots and burning. You had to use a pick ax for all these roots. After that year it took me another year to actually construct the buildings. I opened in February 1993.

So far people have been liking us, man. People like the idea of a campground here in White Bay on the beach. To me, my whole idea, my picture, was just seeing a nice place that everybody can come and enjoy right here. White Bay is the perfect place for all, all the people, nothing private. Everybody could come here. I’m the proprietor, and we’re going to make sure maintain it and we’re going to keep it nice for everybody to come and really enjoy the best of it. Ain’t no it’s my place, and you can’t swim here and you can’t swim there. It don’t matter. So here I am, and so far everybody loves this place. When I started out, I started out with two little huts and two tents and now I have six cabins and one tent. If you want to come and bring your own tent, we have a bare sight for you. Then we have toilets, showers; we have a kitchen where you can prepare your own food.

I spend nine and a half years in the service. Part of my military experience was being able to be stationed in Hawaii. When I went over there, I took a look at the pineapple fields and it really inspired me. I said, hey man this place is warm and look how much pineapples are growing here. It just really give me a spark. I can be successful at growing pineapples at home. When I go home, I can open up my pineapple farm. That is where I really get my whole insight from; just looking at the Dole pineapple farms over there. It was really inspiring to me. So after I came back in 1975, then I started to open up some lands that my family owned. It was about eight of us all together. Each of us had our own individual plots. From Foxy to Aisha to Junie or Herman to Ali Baba, myself, Raffy and maybe a couple of others. I can’t leave out Mr. Etien, Etien Chinnery, I really look up to him, he’s been farming over fifty, sixty years he’s still farming. So far twenty years now I’m in the business of farming. I’ve grown about 3000 pineapples as well as banana, avocados, guavaberry, guava, mangos, grapefruit, limes, soursop, sugar apples I got quite a variety of different fruits. After all of these things start coming, and it was more than I could eat, and I started selling them in the street. Then I found out a way that I could have my own place. I leased the land for Nature Basket from the government. My wife runs it, and I keep it supplied. So far it’s been working

This year 1994 is the most serious drought I’ve seen since I’ve been born. It was dry for almost eight months, no rain. Now in September we had quite a bit of rain, but its hold off now.

Royal Visit
Jost Van Dyke was a stop on Princess Alexandria of England’s State visit to the Caribbean. When she arrived on Jost Van Dyke with her secret service and retinue, there was a large banner over the dock at Great Harbour welcoming her. As she was walking west down the beach road toward Rudy, she stopped all of a sudden around the location of the Methodist Church. It was as if a spirit had hit her; the relaxed and comfortable, at home, feeling of Jost Van Dyke. She stopped and she took off her shoes. They were golden shoes. She continued on her way barefoot. At the end of Great Harbour the well organized plan was for her to turn around and go back to the dock and continue on her way. The princess bolted from her secret service people and bodyguards. She explained that she was not ready to leave. She wanted to buy some local pastry. She went to Miss Christine’s bakery, which was down by Rudy in those days, and she went inside and got some coconut cake, and when she was ready she bid a warm and genuine goodbye to the people of Jost Van Dyke. In the years following her visit she has written several letters thanking the citizens of Jost Van Dyke for there hospitality. The princess has said that her visit to the small island of Jost Van Dyke was the absolute highlight of her Caribbean visit.

This photo was taken on a beautiful day when we were preparing our book, St. Thomas. The photographer for the book, Don Hebert, called me and said that if I could make it over to the airport in one hour I could go up in the helicopter with him. He was shooting photos for a client of his and there was room for one more. Being that I had my trusty dinghy ready to go, and a dock space and a car on St. Thomas, this was a possibility. I dropped everything and ran out the door. With luck, and an intelligent route to avoid traffic, I made it to St. Thomas on time and rode with Don.

This photo was taken from Pettyklip Point, which juts out from Sapphire Beach, a popular wedding venue on St. Thomas. From the point you get incredible views of St. John, the islands of Pillsbury Sound and out to Jost Van Dyke and Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.

This photo was taken from the dock at Abe’s Restaurant in Little Harbour, Jost Van Dyke as the sun was setting in the west.

Guinea Gut runs from St. John’s main east-west mountain ridge (Centerline Road) in the vicinity of the dump, south (on the west side of Gifft Hill Road) to Great Cruz Bay in the vicinity of the Westin Hotel.

The above photo was taken where the gut passes through Trindad Charlie’s (of Trinidad Charlie’s Hot Sauce fame) property. Just down from here there is a government water monitoring station. Further down the gut passes by Power Boyd and then under the South Shore Road before emptying into Great Cruz Bay.

Years ago on St. John this gut (sometimes spelled “ghut”) which even today has running water most of the year and even more in days gone by, was a popular place for women to do their washing.

Fresh water shrimp and fish can be found in the pools. Large mango trees and other beautiful moist forest vegetation abound along the banks of the gut.

The bad part is that if you walk all the way up the gut as far as you can, you’ll come to a twenty foot high wall of garbage – the dump, which, I believe it’s safe to assume, leaches all kinds of yucky stuff into the water.

Most Virgin Islanders have grown up hearing Anansi stories.

Anansi is a quick-witted, but mischievous, spider whose character originates in West African folk tales. This tale, which was popular in St. John in the early 1900s, was transcribed by Roy Sewer when he was 17 years old at the time and published in the book, Escape To The Tropics by Desmond Holdridge in 1937.

Mr. Sewer later served as the Island Administrator for St. John and then as the principal of the Julius Sprauve School. He is now retired and living on St. John.

Notes:

Club refers to the Virgin Island custom of family and friends helping one another out when big jobs needed to be done. The one holding club would traditionally prepare food and beverages for the helpers and would be available if called upon to do club work for someone else.

The term “resen” means baptize.

The Club

Once upon a time, there were two spiders, one name Bru Tuckomar and the other Bru Anansi.

One day, Bru Tuckomar said to Bru Anansi, “Bru, would like you to help me cut some wood.”

Bru Anansi said, “Surely. I will willingly help you.”

So Bru Tuckomar said, “I will cook peas soup for your lunch.”

So, when the day came for the wood to cut, he cook the soup before they began to work. After he finish cook, he said, “Let us go to work.” And they went.

About 9:30, Bru Anansi said, “Lord have marsey, every day resenin’ bastard child! Resenin’ child so!”

But, before they went to work, he hang a pan in the tree and whenever the wind blow, the pan made a loud sound much like a bell.

So he would say, “Bru, I have to go to resen that child.”

Bru Tuckomar said, “All right, you go.” He went right where the pot was and began to eat. He ate one third of the soup and went back to work. When he reach, he said, “Well, I resen the good-for-nothing!”

Bru Tuckomar said, “What the child’s name?”

“Just Begin,” said Anansi.

They work until about eleven and the pan made the same noise. Bru Anansi stop work and listen. Bru Tuckomar said, “I hear a call, Bru. They must be calling you to a next resening.”

Anansi said, “Hell! Then I wish all them damn children would die. Anyway, me go.”

And he went, and he did resen the child! He ate about three fourths of the food and went back.

What this child’s name?” said Bru Tuckomar.

“Half Gone,” said Anansi.

Bru Tuckomar said, “Quare names, indeed!’

Anansi said “Half Gone” because there was less than that in the pot from what there was at first.

So they work and conversed and, all of a sudden, a big wind come and the pan call again for the rest of the food to be finish. Bru Anansi made as if he didn’t hear a sound and Bru Tuckomar said, “Bru, them is call again for you to resen another bastard child.”

Bru Anansi made believe that he didn’t want to go. Bru Tuckomar said, “You know it is your duty to go, so go.”

And Anansi began to swar and say all manner of thing so Bru Tuckomar would think he didn’t want to go. But it was just from joy. He want to make a finishing touch.

He went and all was gone this time so, when he went back, Bru Tuckomar said, “What’s the name?”

“None Left for You!”

“What? None Left for Me! The idear of such a name for a child!”

When the club finish, the two left for food and rest. But, to Bru Tuckomar surprise, the pot was empty. They look at one another.

Bru Tuckomar said, “I know the children had funny names!” and he rush for Anansi. But Bru Anansi, being too fast, side slip him, and cut his head off with a cutlash.

And since that, spiders never keep club.