It is no accident that St. Barth is listed first in the Islands category: it was our youthful voyages to this tiny Caribbean island that most likely inspired our continued wanderlust.  St. Barth represents not only one of our first foreign destinations, but also one of our most treasured.  Our grandfather, Porter, who "discovered" St. Barth in the mid 1960's, first introduced us to this once-remote outpost.  It was then a very different place.  Porter so enjoyed his early visit there that he bought a patch of property in L'Orient with a picturesque view and built a pretty decent summer home overlooking the Caribbean Sea.

As a result, we've been fortunate enough to visit this island dozens of times and watch it change (for better or worse) over the decades.  St. Barth has a long colonial history, but never has the change been as dramatic as in the last thirty-five years.  This site's photos will give you an idea of what the island is all about and will even provide a glimpse or two into the past, but it doesn't even begin to tell the whole tale.  It is impossible to write about the island without a few "well, back in the day" comments - so apologies to the reader in advance if the tone occasionally reverts to that of a doddering St. Barth "old-timer" who longs for days gone by.

Years ago, very few people had heard of the island and only a handful had ever visited. Life on the rock was relatively primitive.  There were roads and hotels and electricity, but their reliability couldn't be guaranteed.

Even getting to the island was a real adventure - taking two or more days from as close as Florida.  When we did arrive, our agenda was pretty ritualistic: go to the beach during the day and relax at home in the warm evenings. 

Occasionally, we'd dine out in one of the small taverns or eateries in "downtown" Gustavia, but since the selection was limited and the prices exorbitant, we would more often enjoy a homemade meal of fresh fish or self-imported pasta.

Plain and Simple

Today, the island appears on every Caribbean map (quite a change) and is overrun with cars, people, advertising, glitz, cruise ships, color, noise, and craziness.  But, carnivals can be fun too.  So the debate continues: St. Barth today, better or worse?

I think we all agree that the answer is: a little of both. The improved nightlife and quantity and affordability of the restaurants certainly make St. Barth livelier, but the island has lost all of its hidden charm.  No longer are you the only one on the beach at sunset.  No longer is "traffic" a laughable concept to the locals - as it was ten years ago.  Hell, today it's not uncommon to be sitting in a sweltering traffic jam downtown every day of the week.  And as a result of the traffic, island officials unfortunately closed some of the more fun windy scenic roads in and out of Gustavia.  C'est domage.

At the risk of sounding like a doddering old fool, I'll reminisce about the island of old.  The year: 1975.  Before departing for the island, we would ask our butcher to deep freeze a couple of coolers of meat and other perishables for the two day journey since the only grocery store on the island, Sodexa, was rarely open and had only a few cans of food and a few cases of beer.  Fresh meat, vegetables, and dairy were out of the question.

Our journey to the rock  would necessarily carry us through St. Maarten where we would greet the familiar face of Monsieur LePipe (named for the trademark pipe that he carried), one of the few pilots "certified" to land in St. Barth. Certified because, rumor had it, that this elder statesman of the Caribbean fleet did not actually have a pilot's license at all, but since he'd been flying so long, no one questioned him.

Back in Porter's time, the pilots would have to sweep over the grass landing strip to encourage farmers to clear their goats from the field so that planes could land.

By the time we began visiting, this was no longer necessary, and the grass strip actually had a few hundred feet of cement to make the initial touchdown less traumatic.

Each plane would dump four or so passengers outside an old one-room shack on the north end of the runway, and with a wave, M. Le Pipe would be off again.

There was no terminal, no car rental, no tower, and planes did not stay overnight.  What a truly fine airport it was.

Then the island had a few restaurants, but only tiny one-room affairs catering to the most discerning clientele.  Certainly nothing for the likes of a couple of toe-headed young boys.

Nothing, save for Santa Fe, that is.  Santa Fe above Gustavia actually served a passable, if not expensive, cheeseburger - the only place on the island offering such a treat.

It wasn't until years later that Le Select relocated (where it is today) and opened the now famous cheeseburger grill.  This is a terrific spot to grab a few beers and watch the urban bustle of the megalopolis, Gustavia.

Another Airport Landing

In those days, there was one thing to do: go to the beach. The beaches (if accessible) were quite literally empty and we'd have them to ourselves.  Nights on the island were unbelievably quiet and relaxing.  We'd play cards or read (and hope that the electricity didn't blink off as it was wont to do) and then it was off to bed, just to get up at the crack of dawn and hit the beaches and reefs all over again.

As we grew, so did St. Barth.  By the time we were in college in the eighties, the island had a brand new airport (complete with a bar and restaurant), several new eateries, beach bars, and even a reasonable grocery store or two.  To me, these were the island's glory days.  It was neither too over-run nor too boring.  We'd gather up a few friends and girlfriends, rent a couple of jeeps and head on down.   The beaches were not unknown, but still rather pristine and only occupied in the morning and early afternoon (I still shiver at the thought of a parking lot (A Parking Lot!) at Saline!).  We'd load up a cooler of beer and head on down to the beach at sunset (or after dinner to watch the stars) and have all of Saline to ourselves.  Beautiful.

Today, the available nightlife is extensive.  Houses and hotels continue to spring up everywhere, and seemingly overnight.  Cars idle in sweltering traffic jams around Le Select and cruise ships empty scads of frumpy American tourists into the streets.  It is hard to find parking at the beaches.  The small, family-run bread makers have given way to glass and steel commercial structures.  When I am in town, I only recognize a few of the restaurants and bars, as they change regularly.

Porter saw the direction the island was headed in and sold his house in the early nineties, so we don't get down quite as often.  It is very hard not to have fun in St. Barth, even today with the growth and traffic and crowds.  But as it is an inevitable side effect of aging, it is hard not to be nostalgic when I wander the streets of Gustavia early on a Saturday morning.  I miss the good old days.

Now I'll throw out a few shots of the travelers - as you can see - all this traveling has had its effect.  I'll have to dig through the archives to find some really incriminating photos.

Of course, there's nothing better than traveling with a bunch of friends for a constant party.  Somehow, we've managed through the years to drag our pals down to the rock.  Mayhem generally ensues. . . 

The island is fun to drive.  It's best to rent a Moke - a small jeep-like thing open to the elements.  It's like running a go-kart around the island.  These Mokes can get just about anywhere (not quickly or safely), and the island has a many super vistas.  May the beauty of that old rock in the Caribbean never diminish . . .