Day 9 Visiting Eustatius: Sunsets, Crotch Shocks, & Goats-- The "Golden Rock" Trading Mecca Of The Caribbean
Day 9: Sunsets, Crotch Shocks, And Goats: Visiting Eustatius The "Golden Rock" Trading Mecca Of The Caribbean
After our failed attempt at visiting Nevis and St. Kitts, we sailed onward for eight hours to Eustatius.
It was a long leg of sailing to make it to Eustatius, but it was lovely. I started reading Rascal, Danny read Danny, Champion Of The World (fitting), we played Farkle, and I won, finally, and we made it to Eustatius, sailing at a brisk sporty 9 to 11 knots.
The original grand gateway to the top of Eustatius. It was a phenomenal Dutch stronghold for decades and decades due to it’s steep cliffs.
The island of Eustatius (Sint Eustatius, Statia, Saint Eustatius) was really unique, the perfect fortress for wealth for warfare, with steep cliffs. Originally there was one grand gateway to the top. It was a Dutch stronghold.
Eustatius: The Trading Mecca Of The Caribbean
Here’s a brief excerpt on the backstory of Eustatia, for all you history buffs out there, taken from Brittanica’s site:
The island, first colonized by the French and English in 1625, was taken by the Dutch in 1632 and initially named Nieuw Zeeland before being renamed Sint Eustatius. Dutch control was not absolute, the island changing hands 10 times in 1664–74, yet Sint Eustatius began to grow as a commercial center. Despite the absence of an excellent natural harbor and a severe shortage of fresh water, it became the main focus of the slave trade and of mercantile exchange in the eastern Caribbean by 1780.
The island has changed hands 22 times since settlement, with the French, Spanish, and British eager to take control of this stronghold from the Dutch. Within 100 years, it was the most crucial transshipment port in the New World, visited by as many as 3,000 ships a year, up to 200 of which could be anchored at one time.
The island was probably the major source of supplies for the rebellious North American colonies, arousing British antagonism during the American Revolution. On November 16, 1776, Sint Eustatius became the first foreign government to recognize the fledgling United States of America officially.
Our experience there? It was beautiful and unique- you come ashore to Lower Town, and you find your way up to the main town Oranjestad. You can see the original entry up to the town, and the stone ruins are noticeable along the waterfront.
Lower Town (aptly named) is where you come into the port, and then Oranjestad is the town located up high.
The Golden Rock
“Golden Rock” -- the name this place was called during its prime due to its enormous wealth that accrued from their duty-free trade created for local Dutch merchants. This place was a HUB! Can you imagine? Statia has more artifacts per square inch than anywhere in the world, due to the melting pot it was for trade during its heyday - walking down the street, you can find fragments of the old traded goods - a history beneath your feet. It was freakin’ awesome.
What To Do In Oranjestad
We walked by the cemetery peppered with goats, sheep, and chickens, and watched the sun setting on Oranjestad’s picturesque fort, imagining what it would have looked like to see 200 ships in that harbor, trading and supplying and swapping all kinds of information and technology in it’s day. Now the largest and longest-running industries on the island are tourism (mostly dive tourism) and an oil depot for tankers from Venezuela -- which are sprinkled throughout the harbor.
Here’s a panoramic of the harbor from the Oranjestad fort. You can see there are SO many Venezuelan oil tankers sitting outside the harbor!
The Unusual Cause Of Erosion On Eustatius (And Getting Shocked In The Crotch By An Electric Fence)
We noticed some of the paths to make it up to Oranjestad are blocked off by electric fences. The reason? The GOATS! You’ll see goats sprinkled along the cliff line -- so they have protective fencing to prevent the goats from causing further erosion.
Only “On” Certain Times Of Day, They Said
There’s an electric fence that keeps these goats away from certain areas. It’s also supposed to only be on “certain times of day”…That’s what they said, anyway… #scarredforlife #neverhoppingoveranelectricfenceeveragain
A local told us the electric fences are only powered on during certain times of the day. Laura and Danny hopped over one for a shortcut, I followed behind, weary, didn’t clear it the way they did and managed to get electrocuted in the crotch mid-hop, reflexively punching a concrete wall mid-flail (one of my better moments I’m sure.)
Whining and panicked like the 9 year old girl that I am, my crotch-electrocution PTSD set in as we walked up to the next line of electric fence at the bottom of the walkway. That’s right, we had to clear another trusty “not powered” electric fence. It took 3 minutes of self pep-talks to muster the courage to risk another crotch-shock. This time, it really was off.
After having cocktails spilled on us and being served a communal roll, we made our way back to the boat where Laura flexed her awesome culinary skills in creating her famous Chicken Picatta with capers and a lemon butter sauce. Yes. Please!
West Indian Women Love Danny
After our eight hour day of sailing and let downs from Nevis, we sat down at a waterside cafe with wifi. There’s this ongoing joke of how West Indian women LOVE Danny and can’t stand Laura (read: skinny white girl), and our dining experience clearly reflected these phenomena:
Our server instantly loathed hated Laura, serving her martini last, spilling half of it on her, then taking it away. Danny and ONLY Danny was served a bread basket containing ONE dinner roll and one pat of butter, just for him, one placemat and table setting- though Laura and myself were both sitting at the same table. Both appetizers brought just for him. While striking up a cordial conversation, Danny learned she was from Saint Kitts, which after the day we went through, explained everything.
After a full eight hour day of sailing, dealing with customs on Nevis, and exploring Eustatia for hours, and having a server spill martini’s all over you — this is how your evening concludes. Laurford, in her natural habitat, asleep in the salon, red wine perched faithfully by her side.
Minus our server who was having a really bad day, Statia is the bomb. A living, breathing museum full of history, the people are kind, and this island is absolutely lovely.