Eight years ago my husband and I were packing our bags for our one-year anniversary trip back to our wedding site for a long weekend of electric blue water and Goombay Punch. Then Hurricane Matthew set its sights on Great Exuma and it would be another five years before we return. Sadness set in for an island we loved and for the the trip we needed to postpone, but with just days before departure, we were re-booked to Barbados—a new destination and a big adventure of island hopping to get there.
St. Lucia has two airports on either end of the island. A large and beautiful international airport and one that is more akin to a bus stop. We had to fly through both to hop over to Barbados, guaranteeing us a scenic drive and a long layover.
It was almost as expected—one room, little ventilation, a clock that may or may not have been working, and a beach bar across the dirt road. So with two beers and two hours before our flight, we found a shady tree and waited.
Out in front of us, a young family splashed in the surf. To our left another was enjoying an early supper. And far off to the right, a St. Lucian man sat atop a bareback horse, trying desperately to hold on. The man’s feet were bare and his long braids were tied atop his head. Under his seat, a galloping horse raced down the surf. We heard the horse’s protesting snorts as he bucked past us, came to a halt, turned, and was willed the other way. Down and back they trained until the sun got too low in the sky, storm clouds threatened, and we heard a buzzing on the runway behind us. It was time of us all to go.
On the tarmac, we walked in a disorganized line to the plane waiting for us. Rain was coming down as we settled in our seats, and everyone was exhausted from a day’s work. Most were returning home to another island. It seemed to be a daily routine. We were the only American tourists on board, and I seemed to be the only one with a warn-off buzz who was suddenly feeling squirrely about taking off towards the Caribbean Sea in this turbo prop in middle of a thunderstorm.
But my new husband was already snoozing and no one else seemed bothered. I closed my eyes and thought of the afternoon we had just had, and the adventure that awaits. And wished myself a horse to gallop down the beach.
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