the tide pools

The northwest shore of St. Croix can be very treacherous. The rolling hills of that corner of the island spill violently into the ocean (and continue steeply downward into the Virgin Islands Trough at 13,000 feet below sea level). This rocky shore, just east of Annalay Bay, is home to the tide pools.

Over time, the force of the ocean has built up walls of jagged rocks a good distance away from the cliffs that extend to the top of the hills above. The waves still occasionally spill over these walls, creating large pools in the sandy craters.

Here is a bird's eye view. Press the (+) to zoom directly in on the pools (The "A" is the farm):


View Larger Map

During my last weekend on the island, I took a trip to these pools with my friends Patrick and Ryan. We hiked from the farm to the pools and spent an hour or so playing in the water, climbing the wall of rocks, and waiting for huge waves to crash into the rocks and splash foam in our faces. It was so much fun....




...Until we built up our pride a little too much and ventured further west. This side of the pool was much more exposed to the crashing waves. With Ryan and Patrick just behind me, I climbed up the wall and started walking along the top. Before I had time to realize what was happening, a wave thundered over the wall and lifted me into the air. The sheer force of the wave was the most physical energy I'd ever felt in my entire life. I was a rag-doll.

Then came the thud. My body flew off the wall to the rocks 8 feet below, my left shoulder and butt taking the brunt of the blow. Somehow my head had missed hitting anything, but as I lay there, I realized I could barely move. Another wave exploded over the wall, surrounding my limp body with salty foam that forced its way into my eyes and mouth. Several long seconds later, I was able to bring my head above water and gasp for air, preparing for another wave.

Apparently the monster waves come in pairs, because no other wave came close to the clout of those first two. Patrick and Ryan looked down at me with stunned looks on their faces. The wave missed Patrick, and Ryan was barely able to grab a hold of the wall with his finger tips at the last moment. He was bloody from cuts, but had been able to remain firmly on top of the wall. I was the only one to be launched into the air.

With much pain and effort, I was finally able to wiggle my toes, lift myself off the rocks, and hobble to the safety of my cabana on the farm. I will never forget the feeling of utter helplessness I had as that wave picked me up and thrashed me around as if I were a speck of dust in the wind.

Here is a video that Ryan took when we first arrived at the pools. The large waves in this footage were nothing compared to the monsters that came later:



I spent my last two days on the farm mostly bedridden. It wasn't until weeks later, at a church service at Grace Center that the pain finally left my body. I, seriously and without drama, thank God that I didn't die that day. If I had landed any other way, I very easily could have.

permaculture seeds sprouting on st. croix

A cool article about cool goings-on at VISFI. CHECK IT OUT. Oh, and those tidal pools are where I almost died last March. I'll post a video of them later on....

sustainable connections run strong and deep

During one of my final weeks at Creque Dam Farm in St. Croix, we had lots of visitors come through for the Bush Skills Rendezvous. One very nice man from Pennsylvania, Kenny Point, stayed the longest. He was very interested and inspired by the R2R program and all the wonderful people on those beautiful 200 acres, and he wrote about it here:

Ridge to Reef for a Sustainable Education

He took the above picture right after Patrick and my presentation on renewable energy (notice the lit bulb in my hand). This makes me miss the island so much....

i came here to learn

Here is a video, documentary style, about the sustainable energy project that Patrick and I completed during the Ridge to Reef program. Fellow reefer, Dez, took on the task of documenting everyone's work for her final project. With little time and resources, she did an amazing job producing videos that show what we accomplished, and interviews that divulge the real reasons why we had all come to the farm. As far as Patrick and I were concerned, we came to learn.

the yellow dwarf and the dinner plate

With a few more posts left before I can really close the book on St. Croix (for now), I should probably go ahead and get these up here - before we all forget that, yeah, that actually happened. I shall start with the conclusion of my final project at VISFI: to design, create and install a working solar system for our client, Kyle O'Keefe.

I left off (almost FOUR months ago, geez) talking about how Patrick and I had to decide on the best location for the solar panel. Well, after surveying the area, we decided this was the prime spot:


Patrick and I worked closely with zen-master/zig-zag man/bearded electricity guru, Don Young, to develop the optimal system for Kyle's needs. We constructed a box out of scrap wood that was lying around the container pad to house all of the components of the system that would convert the sunlight into AC and DC. Then all we would need to do is send the current up to Kyle's cabana, connect a few wires, screw in a bulb, and voila - power.

The box, which we painted a lovely shade of green, was attached to a 6-foot post. The roof of the box was slanted at 17 degrees (the degree of latitude in St. Croix) and doubled as a platform for our solar panel. A maze of wires ran from the panel, to the charge controller, to the batteries, to the inverter, to the fuse boxes, and under the ground to Kyle's cabana. It honestly took every ounce of our sanity to check and recheck our math, solve wiring puzzles, and get all the tools we needed to finish the job. One of the things I was most proud of after completing the project was knowing how much we were able to recycle from previous projects or from junk lying around the container pad. As frustrating as it sometimes was to try and find the right size screw we needed or to try and get our hands on a wrench or a charged power drill, it felt great to accomplish so much without even one trip to a Home Depot (not that one even exists on the island or anything).





The big moment came the day before the project was due. Patrick and I had spent the previous afternoon digging a seemingly endless trench that would become home to one measly 4-in-1 10 gauge wire, we had connected all the wiring in the system, and the panel had been charging the batteries for a good 48 hours - it was time for the moment of truth. Now, I don't mean to be overly dramatic or sensational, but it was a very emotional moment for Patrick and me. It actually was our moment of truth. Would the light bulb light? Was all our work actually for something?

I twisted the bulb into the rusty socket of the old metal fixture we had borrowed from the baby chicken pen. I gave Patrick the thumbs up. He switched on the inverter. Current flowed through the fuse box, into the long gray wire, through our ramshackle joint box, and into the old fixture. The bulb's filament slowly began to glow, brighter and brighter (actually, not slowly at all, more like the SPEED OF LIGHT, but I like to pretend it was all in slow motion), and soon it was burning with the electrical fury of a thousand suns (40 watts). And the peasants rejoiced.


As Patrick and I were making the long walk down the hillside, back toward the community center, I noticed the setting sun in front of us. How incredible it was, I thought, that we had taken unseen particles of light and transformed them into something - creating a light of our own. We began to chat about this very miracle, when both of us turned around to gain perspective. We wanted to look back toward Kyle's cabana to imagine what it would look like from the other side of the farm if the lights were on. We wanted to imagine what future farmers at VISFI will see in the distance when someone is reading by the light of our bulb. We just wanted to imagine it, but we saw this:


The full moon had risen, stealthy in the night sky. It hung like a dinner plate directly over Kyle's cabana, casting its pale glow over the farm. It was, as Elton John might say, the circle of light.

bush skills

OK, time to play catch-up on my posts...

My second to last week on the farm had the most busy and compact schedule of any week yet. Thursday through Sunday (March 5th thru 8th) was the 3rd Annual Bush Skills Caribbean Rendezvous at Creque Dam Farm. Bush Skills is a four-day event where people gather to learn primitive skills - everything from basic survival (or as we call it, "thrival") to preparing and enjoying a feast. Several instructors flew in from the states to help teach classes, and many more people came to the farm to camp and enjoy our beautiful setting during the event. The farm went from a relatively quiet crew of 25 to a bustling community of 50 or more.

As an R2R student, I took on several responsibilities throughout the week. I helped teach a class, run the registration booth, prepare meals, clean dishes, keep an eye on the dogs, etc, etc, etc. It was exhausting - but it was so much fun.


The theme of this year's rendezvous was "Hunting, Gathering, and Growing" - and each day had its own theme as well:

Day One - Survival: The basics of tropical living - fire, shelter, water, fibers
Day Two - Tracking and Awareness: The functional art of blending with nature for heightened sense of being
Day Three - Plants: Medicines, herbalism, crafts, and food
Day Four - Food Day: How to grow and prepare an all-natural island feast

We started off each day signing up for the two classes we wanted to take during the day - one before lunch and one afterward. Throughout the week, I made traditional pottery from local gray clay, I made a cooking set completely out of bamboo - a rice-steaming pressure cooker, two small cups and a spoon, I made art out of coconut palm fronds, I killed, skinned, cleaned, and tanned a rabbit hide, and I made a "mongoose stick" and learned how to properly throw it for a kill.




There were several classes that I didn't get to take because of conflicts with my work schedule that looked great as well - calabash art and utensils, cordage weaving, vine baskets, tracking and hunting, shell art and bamboo weaponry.




I did get to help Marshall teach a class on trapping, where we taught a group of high school kids how to build a mongoose trap. We showed them how to set it to trap their very own mongoose-dem.


Each night during the rendezvous, one of the instructors known as Snowbear, would start a fire and gather everyone for a drum circle. Everyone was given a chance to share a song or story or thought - it was almost like open mic nights around Snowbear's fire. Marshall and I shared a couple of our favorite songs to jam to: "In Spite of Ourselves" by John Prine and "Meet Me In the Morning" by Bob Dylan. I'm surprised we never got around to sharing "The Weight" by The Band since we had spent so many cabana nights trying to get those harmonies down just right.

The last drum circle we had was just a couple of days before the full moon, and we didn't have a fire going. It was also more like an actual drum circle - everyone had something to beat, rattle, or shake. I had a large calabash filled with loose seeds that I used to add to the moonlit rhythm. After we had the rhythm going hot for a few minutes, we were visited by a creature from the bush.



This is a Moko Jumbie. Urban Legend has it in St. Croix that the bush is filled with evil tree spirits called Jumbies. They are tall and slender (I imagine like a dark, shadowy Ent from LOTR, but evil) and come out to spoil the enterprises of man. To combat these spirits, St. Croix has a tradition of stilt-walking dancers in bright costumes called Moko Jumbies.

When this came out of the bush and started dancing in the middle of our circle, we were all astounded. Nate had obviously planned the encounter, but hadn't told most people there. I was just shaking a gourd in the moonlight, and next thing I knew, there was a 12-foot-tall creature in front of me. It was quite surreal.

The last day of Bush Skills was feast day. We spent the whole morning preparing the food and cooking using primitive techniques.






When all was said and done, I had eaten:

Stone soup - soup cooked inside a pumpkin using fresh vegetables from the farm, heated using hot rocks that had been in the fire for a while. When the rocks were placed in the cold broth, it began to boil within a few seconds.


Cornmeal biscuits that were cooked inside bamboo rounds on a cooking stone that was placed over a flame.


Rice and vegetables cooked inside a bamboo pressure cooker.


Pasteles, which are bananas cooked inside their own leaves with garlic, peppers, potatos and other vegetables.


Mongoose. Yes, mongoose. Boiled for an hour, then doused in BBQ sauce and grilled.


And my favorite - bread. We coiled the batter around a stick and cooked it like a marshmallow for s'mores. I drizzled mine in honey and chowed down. Then I made some more. It was heavenly.





All in all, Bush Skills was probably the most exciting week on the farm. There were so many new faces in and out of our community during the rendezvous, and I learned so many great primitive skills.

And I ate Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.

the disconnect

When we arrived to the farm, one of the first things us R2R students did was to split into pairs and get to know each other. We discussed where we were from, what events brought us here, and what we expect to get out of the program. As my partner Dez and I were chatting, I started to realize, on a general level, why I came here. I became aware of my own desires. Specifically, a desire for connection.

There is so much disconnection in modern society, especially modern Western culture. There is a terrible lack of communication and education from generation to generation, so much so that we treat the elders of our society as a great burden with little to offer. Movies make jokes about old people that don't have any idea what's really going on while their 11-year-old grandchild text messages their friends using horrifying acronyms that butcher the very existence of grammatical rules in the English language.

This very example is what I mean by disconnect. Kids today are disconnected from the English language. They "use" it and communicate with it and write with it, but they barely understand how words are actually spelled, how to form a complete sentence, or how to write without emoticons.

I came here to reconnect. I realized that the things that my ancestors discovered, realized, used, and loved were lost to me. I barely had simple survival skills, let alone farming, building, and cooking skills. Not even electrical skills. Nobody likes a guy with no skills.

I wanted to close that generation gap and reclaim the things that are my rights as a human. To make fire, to grow food, to build shelter, to drink clean water, to eat natural, beautiful food. I didn't want to be removed anymore.

Many people today are completely removed from their food. They buy it, prepare it, love it, and eat it, but they have no idea what came before that. They don't understand the whole process. I want to be a part of the whole process, or at least know about the whole process.

Same goes with my faith. I want to be a part of the whole process. I don't just want to be on the receiving end of some divine light that miraculously shines on me and gives me good graces. I want to know Him.

Now, of course, this isn't necessary. It might actually be easier to go through life ignorant about everything. We humans are pretty good at ignoring things that make us have to get up off of our lay-z-boy. They do say "ignorance is bliss," right? Bullshit. Ignorance is a fleeting, artificial bliss that breeds cowardice and laziness.

So, though it may not be necessary by the world's standards, this reconnection is very necessary by life's standards. It is so easy to start a fire by pulling out your bic lighter and today's newspaper, but have you ever started a fire with nothing but a few sticks you found in the woods? It may take you all day, but when you get that dust to coalesce, and you carefully burn tender to get a flame, it is the most rewarding thing. You were part of the whole process. You were living.

I'll end with a line from one of my favorite Switchfoot songs:

"We've got information in the information age,
but do we know what life is outside of our convenient Lexus cages?"

eating is an agricultural act

So, if you guys remember, each week of the Ridge to Reef program has been devoted to a different (yet connected) area of study. We've done Farm-based Education, Permaculture, Sustainable Building, Agroecology, Renewable Energy and, last week, Slow Food.

Slow Food, as opposed to fast food, refers to a movement started in 1989 in Italy by a man named Carlo Petrini. McDonald's aimed to open a location there, but they faced passionate resistance from the locals because the kind of food experience McDonald's has to offer directly opposes the culture of food there. The movement has become more of a self-promoter with a political agenda in recent years, but their core foundation of belief in the importance of food, and good food, is a great one.

Part of the movement's philosophy reads:

"We believe that everyone has a fundamental right to pleasure and consequently the responsibility to protect the heritage of food, tradition and culture that make this pleasure possible ... We consider ourselves co-producers, not consumers, because by being informed about how our food is produced and actively supporting those who produce it, we become a part of and a partner in the production process."

We spent the week discussing all aspects of food, from production to plating. We talked about different diet types and ways of consuming food. We talked about preparing food and went over a few recipes. Then, at the end of the week, we prepared a feast.

On Friday, February 27, the R2R crew held a Slow Down Dinner. Creque Dam Farm routinely holds these dinners to raise money for the farm. Guests must reserve a seat in advance for a six-course meal, made from as much local food as possible, preferably straight from the farm. But on Friday, the meal was just for us and the rest of the farm crew.

We were split into 5 groups of 2 and sent to experiment and prepare one course to be included in our five-course dinner: appetizer, soup, salad, entree, and dessert.

The dinner was, in all seriousness, an amazing success. I was actually concerned that some of the dishes wouldn't turn out right, especially since most of us had little experience creating a recipe, let alone serving it to 30 people. But it all turned out, and it turned out delicious. Good food, good friends, and good conversation all around.

The appetizer was blanched okra skewered over a polenta circle with tomato and pumpkin chutney topped with a roasted pumpkin seed and spice sprinkle.


Way to go Mandy and Ms. Judith.


Next up was the soup, which I was selected (out of a hat) to prepare along with Ashley. We spent all Thursday afternoon experimenting and creating a recipe for a cold cucumber soup. Every single ingredient (except a little salt and pepper) came straight from the farm. It was entirely raw vegan. And it was delicious.

We had harvested about 60 cucumbers the day before, which is why we chose to work with cucumbers. Ashley and I cut and carved out the seeds of 30. I hiked around the farm and collected about 14 baby coconuts that I cut open to use both the water and meat. We also harvested some fresh cilantro, scallions, sour orange, and honey. We cut, added, squeezed, diced, and poured all of this into a food processor and slowly blended until creamy. Then, we chilled our concoction over night.

Just prior to dinner, I went to the Mandala garden and plucked 50 cranberry hibiscus leaves while Ashley ground up dried sorrel into a powder. We sprinkled the powder over the soup and added two of the leaves on top as a garnish (a very tasty garnish). Cold soup was definitely a good idea and it totally hit the spot.


Ashley and I with our new dish, Cococucu:


The salad was a roasted vegetable salad with peppers, eggplant, and potato, topped with fresh greens and a tamarind vinegarette with sorrel reduction sauce.


Pretty dang good, Marshall and Mere.


The entree was a seared, coconut encrusted mahi-mahi topped with red flavoring peppers, holy basil flower, and green curry paste on a blached bok choy leaf and a side of rice infused with moringa and topped with a ylang ylang flower...


And the vegan option: same as above, just papaya instead of fish.


Thanks James and Dez!


Finally, dessert. We ended the night with a pumpkin pudding cake with raisins topped with fresh coconut sorbet and a honey rum drizzle sauce. (I finished off the sorbet after lunch today. Ugglkhoiee, it was so good.)


Ryan and Patrick deserve a prize.


Most of the farm crew with the R2R students after dinner:


Oh yea, and I have a mustache now. And ironically enough, when I got back from some travels this past weekend, there were some facial hair changes with a few of the farmers. Ben, the founder and owner, almost has a Fu Manchu going on. Keith, the chef, has a dirty mustache. And Kyle is now rocking a Mohawk. At least I'm not alone anymore...