I passed through this coast region a few days ago, but that day was already running long, so I didn't have enough of a chance to wander or sketch. It's an easy drive from home, so I headed up there for a full day.
First, I head to the coastal road as it curves away from the coast and up a hill. I had noticed a possible sketching view here. I pull into a corner store and ask the owner if there are other views of the sea from nearby. She can't think of any but lets me park in her lot while I wander around. I like the view down the main road; there is an old chattel house, a red-roofed place, some telephone poles, and the sea. But I want to scout the area more. I walk down a side road and then another. As I'm walking down this one, I hear a voice from the house. "It's a dead end, dear."
"Oh, thank you - I'm just looking for good views of the sea," I say to the house.
"It does have a lovely view of the sea if you walk around."
I can see the elderly woman through her shutters. I explained I'd like to do a sketch and am considering the view from basically the front of her yard. She says it would be ok if I did that. I put a card on her porch.
"I'll get it later, dear; I'm in my towel!" she informs me. I laugh, apologize, and head down the road for a look. The view is decent but not as favourable as the one at her house, so I return and use her house as shade. When she finishes washing up, she comes out to the porch and examines my card. Her name is Loleene.
"I think I'll get better shade if I go up there" I say - she has a shared yard with another house, it seems; the second house is closer to the road, up the hill another 5 feet, and has more shade.
"Oh - you're good there. Anything I say on this property goes." she waves her arms to imply both houses, the yard, and the surroundings.
She tells me she has been here for over 70 years. "Born here, lived here my whole life. My father's house used to be right there," she says, pointing to the lawn in front of her place, which is set back a bit.
"The view used to be even better. Years ago, these trees weren't here - or they were much shorter, so I could see the sea all along here," she waves her hands towards an empty lot to her west. It's just beside the viewpoint I'm sketching.
"I asked the owner to cut the trees down, but they haven't. I think they want to sell - there's two lots here."
It's a gorgeous piece of property; the view would be stunning. I assume the owner is waiting for someone to offer them a considerable sum for it. Hopefully, the development restrictions on the island ensure that Loleene still has a good view. I wonder if it's less expensive than a teardown in Ottawa.
Eventually, I finished up and showed her the sketch, and she was pleased with it. I head to the mini-mart and show the owner there, who lets me park. "How much for a print?" she asks right away. I explain the nature of making and getting prints here, but I give her my contacts and tell her I will try to figure something out.
I buy some water, thank her for the parking space and head out back down the hill. There's not much room along this narrow coastal road. A few places roadside I could squeeze in, but I don't like it, so I use a private lot where you pay a local "by donation" - I give him 5 dollars to start.
I first walk back towards the hill I just came down, there are some interesting commercial buildings I'd like to look at in more detail. Walking here is not ideal; there are no sidewalks, and in places, there are little rock cliffs or ravines beside the road, so one has to trust the cars passing.
I make it into the little commercial strip below the hill. There's a bar or rum shop, and the road and opposite parking lot are just stacked with probably 200 crates of Banks "two-fours," as we would call them in Canada. Besides this, there is an open-air fish "processing" area. I wish I'd thought to snap a picture of the sign, but it says something like:
<<Notice: This area is reserved for the cleaning, processing, and selling of fish by local fishermen. No other commerce is allowed here. - Fishing Authority of Barbados>>
It's open air, with a few sinks, tables, and a bunch of men (Presumably fishermen) sitting around. One or two are using the sinks. I assume most of this work happens earlier in the morning when the fishing is good.
It just starts dumping rain at this point. I duck into the next building, an open-air bar; it has a large covered patio. The owner says, "Welcome, don't get wet" because I was standing at the edge of his establishment, and ushers me into the deck. It doesn't look like the rain is going to let up, and I notice how lovely the patio is and the view of the fishing boats is perfectly framed, so I figure I'll just sketch here. There's music coming from the fish market and a few patrons on the patio, but I'm not bothered to buy a beer or anything. I stand and make a sketch for about an hour. The rains come and go, and when it's not raining, I at least have shade here. I show the owner the sketch on the way out - he likes it but is also busy counting cash.
Now I head the opposite way - passing by the parked car and walking another 800 metres or so, where I'd noticed lots of fishing boats, fishing huts and a few bars. At the very end of this stretch, there is a series of fishing huts - where people clean fish out front. I'm running out of energy, but I want to try to get one sketch of this row - there is a boat perched in between some of the huts, and it just seems classic Barbados.
I'm unhindered during this sketch. I'm in the shade on the far side of the street, a house beside me, but the street is busy, and most pedestrians are walking on the far side. A rooster and a dog pay me mild interest.
It starts to rain as I'm about 75% done and I call it a day, deciding I will finish up at home. I pass by the first fishing hut and quickly say hello - the woman running it has only one leg and uses a cane. I show her what I've done and ask if it's ok to send it to her when it's complete. She gives me her WhatsApp and explains a bit about how they cut and clean fish on these rustic tables out front. I'd like to talk more, but the rain is coming again, and it's been a long day, so I head to the car.
My parking friend is there. He's been helpful and chatty. "You know what will help me, my friend? 5 dollars," he says, "it will help me eat tonight." I parked on his lawn almost all afternoon, so I gave him 10 Bajan.
He tells me there might be a bar on the far side of the island worth making the trip to. He gives me the name and points it out on Google. It might be worth the trip, but I'm not sure. Certainly not today, and now my days are limited here.
He also tells me about how there was more land here in the past. He's explaining how he has witnessed erosion in his lifetime. He was here in the sixties, and there was a whole other row of houses where the beach is now. They had lawns in the front and back and *then* the beach. If I'm understanding him right, this part of the island had about 70-80 feet of additional land. "It's erosion and climate change, basically."
He also tells me this used to be the only place on the island where they built boats. "All the boats were built here. They built them east to west." I have to clarify this a little bit - but he just means that by building east to west, they had more room for more boats, given the geography.
I thank him for his time, stories, and parking space, and I hope he buys a beer for himself tonight, as well as food.
