The Next Adventure

by Janice Horton

  I’d perhaps have to devise a plan as ruthless as Damion Goldman himself.

  But how could I possibly take on a man like that?

  Was it an impossible task?

  After all I’ve done and seen over this past year, I do know one person can make a difference.

  I know that actions speak louder than words. That fortune favours the brave.

  I sighed. It irritated me that I still hadn’t received a copy of the lease to Waterfall Cay.

  I really felt that it might still hold some vital clues on how I could proceed.

  I ordered a conch salad and checked my phone again.

  No messages from my boys or my mum today and nothing from Ethan.

  Okay, so absolutely no one is missing me at all and no news is good news.

  I believed that my trip to Nassau had been worthwhile, in both meeting Gloria and in helping me to understanding Ethan’s estranged relationship with his brother, but it also felt like I had more questions than answers and that I was going home empty handed. Then, for some reason, I did something I never normally remember or ever bother to do.

  I checked my email spam folder on my phone.

  And there it was – a copy of the lease that had been delivered to me – over a week ago!

  My heart pounded in my chest as I clicked on the PDF attachment.

  In the time it took for the file to open, I hoped and prayed that there might be something – anything at all – that everyone else had somehow missed but that I might immediately spot.

  Something I could use against Damion Goldman to take back Waterfall Cay.

  Inside the document, I found a long and convoluted text with all sorts of numbered paragraphs listing conditions and responsibilities of the ‘lessor’ and the ‘lessee’.

  I read it repeatedly. I’m no legal expert, but as my eyes read and my brain computed and my heart continued to pump adrenalin faster and faster around my body, I began to understand how to go about undoing all of Damion Goldman’s plans.

  Clearly, I needed to file an application as a conscientious objector with the government of the British Virgin Islands, that would specifically result in a protection order being granted on the island. It didn’t even look too difficult to obtain.

  On the BVI government website it stated that the protection of an indigenous species was the primary reason listed for applying for protected status. Second on the list was for the protection of an endangered species. Ideally, of course, I knew I should try and find both.

  Surely, that couldn’t be too hard in a tropical rainforest on virgin territory?

  I imagined myself lurking in dark damp caves in search of a rare bat or becoming entangled up in a giant web looking for an elusive spider or scrambling around on the ground in pursuit of an indigenous iguana. But then my mind fluttered back to the time at the waterfall when Ethan had explained to me about how the largest butterfly in the world had once been found on Waterfall Cay. It had been a long time ago – and he’d also said it was extinct – but what if it could be rediscovered? What if the giant butterfly was not extinct at all but had simply migrated elsewhere? Like what had happened in the Galapagos Islands on that TV programme I’d seen?

  Then all I had to do was find it and bring it back to be reintroduced to Waterfall Cay.

  Surely that would be a cause for celebration and a reason to establish a protected sanctuary?

  Not that it would be easy of course, once Damion caught wind of it.

  Ethan had already warned me that Damion was corrupt in his business dealings.

  He’d insisted that Damion would have seen to it that his planning permissions and permits were all in order. But from what I’ve just read, unless he’s got support on the ecological board, there’s no way he’d be able to rally against an official protection order issued by the islands governing body. Was this the one and only thing in this lease that he’d underestimated?

  The one thing that could quickly and effectively shut him down?

  Any delays or a shutdown that affected his construction plans would likely impact the ability for the resort to open at the start of the new season – which in turn might affect profit projections and annoy his shareholders – causing them to have no choice but to pull out on him.

  I imagined the whole scenario to be like a chain of tumbling dominos.

  An official form needed to be completed by the applicant or ‘petitioner’ together with a statement or ‘petition’ supporting the protection case. A testimony by an expert was also required to be attached to the petition. After which, the application would be considered ‘as a matter of urgency’ and a decision promised ‘by the next monthly ecological board meeting’.

  I felt like yelling ‘eureka’ and I’m suddenly and totally convinced my plan will work.

  I was sure that this – Plan B – was the best way to take back the island.

  Not that I know much about butterflies. But I’m sure it’s possible to find someone who does.

  I’ve learned from Ethan, who knows a lot about everything but who would never claim to be an expert in all things, that when in doubt you must delegate. You find a qualified expert.

  So, as I ate my lunch, I did some internet research into butterflies of the Caribbean and the first thing that popped up was a butterfly exhibition currently on the island of St Lucia.

  See Butterflies from all over the Caribbean flying freely in our Botanical Gardens.

  Attend talks by an expert lepidopterist and learn about the lifecycle of a butterfly!

  This felt like fate to me. What if I was to go over to St Lucia today, instead of flying back to London? Then I might narrow down my search. Plus, I’ll have access to consult with butterfly experts, all while having a lovely time on the island of St Lucia!

  I rattled off a text message to my mum and to my sons.

  Extending my trip for another few days to take in another exhibition. See you at the weekend!

  St Lucia is a lush verdant gem in the island chain known as the Windward Islands in the Lesser Antilles of the Caribbean Sea. It is probably most famous for its dramatic twin mountains known as the Pitons and it’s smouldering sulphuric volcano as well as its beautiful natural rainforest interior and incredible palm tree lined white sand beaches. It’s also famous for its tikki bars and rum punch and is known as a luxurious rather than a budget destination.

  Using an internet booking site, I managed to book a couple of nights of accommodation, at a very reasonably priced boutique hotel overlooking the Pitons, in the small town of Soufriere on the west coast. Importantly, it’s just a short walk away from the botanical gardens hosting the butterfly exhibition. With another few clicks on my tablet via the internet, I also had a late afternoon flight out to St Lucia from Nassau.

  I headed out to the airport feeling excited that my trip had been unexpectedly extended and in anticipation as to what I might achieve while on an island that I’d always dreamed of visiting.

  St Lucia looked beautiful as we circled before descending into the international airport.

  On arrival, I stood in a line to pass through immigration but as I only had hand luggage, I breezed past all the people at the carousel having to wait for their bags, and quickly found the bus station and a local bus to take me to Soufriere.

  One of my very favourite things about travelling and arriving somewhere new is that feeling of being wide-eyed with amazement at seeing a place for the very first time. Tropical places smell so interesting and local roads seem far more exciting to travel along when you really don’t know what’s around the next bend. Then, when the route reveals itself, you see colourful and interesting looking people and amazing scenery and strange new objects and building and plants and trees and varieties of birds that you might have never seen before. It’s the very essence of travel and adventure and of feeling alive!

  The bus I’m on right now is an old one and the road ahead is steep and winding and narrow.

  The driver revves-up the engine
in anticipation of the next steep hill. It sounds like it might explode. At the hairpin bend, I can hardly bear to look at the sheer barrier-less drop over the side of the mountain or to look to see if there is a vehicle coming towards us from the opposite direction. But I do look and I cringe and I jump in my seat as horns blare and engines scream.

  When we arrive in Soufriere, which in colonial times used to be the capital of the island (now replaced by Castries in the north west) I get off the bus in the town square with its neatly clipped grassy area and stone fountain, and I feel like I’ve already had an adventure.

  I follow the bus driver’s helpful instructions to find my hotel.

  He assures me it’s a two-minute walk up the street and he points a finger towards some pretty painted French colonial style buildings and a Caribbean catholic stone-built church.

  ‘Walk straight on past the Church o’the Assumption,’ he tells me. ‘An’ you’ll see it on the left-hand side.’ It was a bit of an uphill hike and more like ten minutes than two minutes.

  But, despite the heat and feeling slightly breathless in the heavy humid air, it was more than worth the trek when I saw the view from the top of the street. The main feature was of course the magnificent twin dormant volcanic spires on the coastline that rear up from the sea as verdant jagged peaks. The Pitons. The sunlight and the shadows catching these peaks from my vantage point showed them off to their very best. It’s a world-famous UNESCO view that I’ve seen so many times on many photographs and brochures and all those pictures seemed to have been taken from this very same spot where I stand. None, however, do it justice.

  The hotel owner I meet is a lovely woman whose actual first name is Lovely.

  She pronounced it Lover-lie and said it was spelt in the same way but without the hyphen.

  Miss Loverlie, a small lean woman with a kind smile, insisted on carrying my bag – a small backpack I’d bought in Nassau containing the few possessions I had – and showed me to my room. It was a small square room with a private bathroom. There was a double bed and simple wooden furniture, all painted white and clean looking. I went straight to the open French doors and gasped at the view again in amazement.

  ‘How do you ever get anything done around here with this view?’ I asked her.

  Miss Loverlie laughed. Her long dreadlocks shook and the beads at the end of each of them clacked together. ‘Oh, you get used to it, an’ realise it ain’t goin nowhere!’

  I spent the last hour of the afternoon, after a refreshing shower and a small meal of Caribbean bean stew and plantain, sitting on the upstairs terrace and sipping a glass of chilled wine while watching the sun go down over the Pitons. I took a photo and sent it to Ethan and to my boys with the hashtag #NoFilter as it certainly needed no enhancements.

  The next morning, I was up early to have breakfast before venturing further uphill to the botanical gardens. Miss Loverlie gave me a map and brochure that explained how the botanical gardens were a privately-owned estate that included an area of tropical rainforest, a nature trail to a waterfall, and the old and renovated sulphur springs wellness spa with its luxurious and therapeutic bathing pools. As the butterfly exhibition was on all day but the talk by the expert didn’t start until the afternoon, I decided that my first adventure of the day should be to head along the nature trail to see the spectacular waterfall, fed by a river coming directly from the dormant volcano.

  I joined a walking tour. It was obviously going to be a tame experience to walk along a well-maintained nature trail path to the waterfall. Compared of course to hacking through the jungle with Ethan and his machete and leaping from boulders and crossing rushing rivers. But the nature trail here is a major draw for tourists on the island. Plus, I was curious to know if the waterfall was anything like as beautiful as the one on Waterfall Cay.

  Our guide was a local man called Melvin and he was welcoming and wonderfully knowledgeable about the nature trail. I was joining a couple of American tourists and a Canadian family on the tour. Melvin escorted us along the pathway through the gently swaying palm trees, pointing out glistening tropical ferns and flowering banana plants, and he explained how the trail that we were walking along was of historical importance. It was once used by slaves who harvested coconuts. He also alerted us to the many colourful island birds, including many types of tiny and colourful hummingbirds, who were feeding at various succulent tropical flowers along our route. We ambled along in the gentle morning heat and humidity, taking photos and craning our necks up into the tall palm trees in the hope of seeing the famous green parrot that was indigenous to St Lucia.

  When I caught Melvin’s attention, I asked him if he knew anything about butterflies.

  I also told him that I was looking forward to attending the exhibition and talk later today.

  ‘I know more about birds than I do butterflies,’ he kindly explained to me. ‘But, when we get back to the gardens, I can introduce you to Dr Tomas Remington. He’s one of the world’s foremost lepidopterist. He’s giving the talk this afternoon on the lifecycle of the butterfly. He’s very passionate about his subject. I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer your questions.’

  We continued with our hike to the waterfall, which I was so excited to see. This particular waterfall on St Lucia is described as a ‘waterfall of many colours’. The reason for this is apparently quite unique. The falls are fed by natural rainwater mixed with rich minerals from the sulphur springs. These minerals: copper, magnesium, iron, and calcium, all stick to the rockface in many layers over time and this is what gives the illusion that the waterfall is a constantly changing kaleidoscope of colour. It’s magical and spectacular!

  We aren’t allowed to bathe in the pool below the falls, as it’s purely a visual attraction.

  So, I take some photos, hoping to capture all the rainbow colours, and then I join the party who are heading back to the gardens and to the luxury spa to indulge in the therapeutic waters and the mineral-rich mud treatments. I long to lounge about in the spa too, but instead I happily followed Melvin over to the conservatory, where The Butterflies of the Caribbean exhibition is being held and where Dr Tomas Remington awaits us.

  Melvin escorted me inside the high domed and impressively constructed conservatory.

  The atmosphere inside is warm and humid just as it is outside but here the free-flying butterflies can all be safely contained within the walls of fine mesh. All the flora and foliage in the exhibit, Melvin tells me, has been specially selected and brought here from all over the Caribbean to suit the particular diets of the varied species of caterpillar and butterfly.

  When we find Dr Tomas, I must wait for a while to meet him as he is indisposed at the top of a very long high ladder. I gaze up to see that he is precariously balanced and holding a butterfly net in one hand and the top rung of the ladder in the other and he is cursing like, well I was going to say a sailor, but perhaps more like a pirate.

  ‘There is a lady here who wishes to meet with you Dr Tomas!’ Melvin yelled to him.

  The ladder wobbled a little and the cussing ceased. ‘A lady? Me? Are you sure?’

  His voice is high and doubtful.

  ‘Yes. She wants to talk to you about butterflies.’ Melvin assured him.

  ‘Okay. Well, tell her I’ll be down just as soon as I catch this fucking butterfly.’

  I stifled my giggles because I could see Melvin’s eyes were wide with embarrassment.

  Dr Tomas came down the ladder very quickly a moment or two later using a sliding technique that suggested he had either previously trained with the Circus de Soleil or he was very well practiced with going up and down ladders. He looked a little perplexed to see me standing right in front of him and I was a bit surprised myself.

  Perhaps because he’s tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome.

  I suppose I expected a butterfly expert to be someone geeky-looking with his glasses perched half way down a long narrow nose and with messy hair and baggy overalls on a lean nondescript body. Dr Tomas is
quite the opposite. He’s wearing tight skinny jeans, slung low on his narrow slinky hips. His cotton t-shirt bears the words ‘without change there would be no butterflies’ and it looks a size too small stretched over his rippling gym-honed torso.

  He stares at me for a moment, with his surprised but also slightly bemused looking dark brown eyes. When he eventually blinks, his eyelashes look like small dark butterflies fluttering on his sculptured cheekbones. I see he has two small colourful and fluttering butterflies in his net and that he also has an intricate tattoo of fluttering butterflies down his forearm that finishes with one larger one on his hand. Interesting.

  ‘Is that its common name then – the fucking butterfly?’ I ask him innocently.

  At first, he looks a little embarrassed, but then his perfect lips curl into a smile.

  ‘Oh, no. You see, I was catching these butterflies while they were actually copulating.’

  I try to keep a straight face. ‘Ah, I see. So you were being scientific?’

  Dr Tomas raised his dark and perfectly shaped eyebrows knowledgably. ‘Yes, indeed. You see, the caterpillar’s only aim in life is to eat and then once it metamorphoses into a butterfly, its only aim in life is to have lots of sex.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Melvin collaborated. ‘That’s a word scientist around here use all the time.’

  I was reminded of the time that Ethan took me into the jungle at night when we were on a small island in the Andaman Sea, just off the coast of Thailand, to witness the call of the Tokay Gecko. Otherwise known as the fuck-you lizard because ‘fuck-you’ is exactly what its call sounds like. It’s both shocking and hilarious to hear it shouted en mass from the undergrowth.

  ‘I’m Lori, by the way. It’s nice to meet you Dr Tomas.’

  ‘Oh, please drop the doctor. I only have a PHD. I don’t save lives. My friends call me Tom.’

  We shook hands and smiled at each other.

  Melvin, having satisfactorily introduced us, went about his own business.