Thanksgiving on Tortola

Thanksgiving on Tortola

I was awakened by the crowing of chickens at dawn, again. I would love to wring their little necks and serve them for dinner, but stuffed duck is on the menu for today. Perhaps another time... Now I had to get up out of my tent and greet the dawn on the beach at Brewer's Bay, Tortola.

After coffee and joints, we set off up the hill for the cow pastures, and hopefully a bunch of fresh mushrooms. We wanted massive quantities of 'shrooms to stuff a duck with. We already had a bag of choice Tortola grass to add (if we didn't smoke it all first). Wild rice and other herbs would make it quite wonderful indeed. The plan was to stuff it, wrap it in tinfoil, then bake it in the coals of a fire in a pit, at the Campground where we were staying at Brewer's Bay.

I remembered to bring along the tape player, and was listening to Chopin's Piano Concertos as we marched upwards to the sun, the cows, and the mushrooms awaiting us. It had rained last night, as usual for Tortola in the Fall, and we were certain that some big old 'shrooms were growing at the speed of light just up the hill. The four of us took a rest stop at the ridge above Brewer's Bay and got more righteously stoned before splitting up to search for 'shrooms.

Tortola is covered with cow pastures, and in the old days we were free to roam everywhere on the island and pick enough for our own use with no hassles. If you came across an islander, they were likely to be ancient and weathered, riding or leading a donkey across the golden hillsides, while the cloud shadows shifted along their flanks. Usually they'd be toothless, and just happy to see you; perhaps they were trippin' out on their own thing - the 151 proof Rum from Callwood's Distillery in Cane Garden Bay.

One old couple, obviously British, observed us in the fields wandering about poking cowpies. We smiled and waved, one said "it's a great day for taking in the air!" We all heartily agreed and started laughing so hard we were rolling in the grass. The Brits thought we were funny also and laughed as they walked away.

Most everyone spent the day totally tripping out on the beauty of Tortola. Some became water nymphs, splashing around in the water for hours in a psychedelic glow. Others gathered round the beach bar, talking and laughing. In years past many European hippies had passed through here, and hand painted all the rocks around the campsites. It was fun to turn them over and see what was on the other side, often the OPPOSITE of what was on front...

Meanwhile, a few of us did the fun work of preparing a feast. Got the duck stuffed with grass, mushrooms, rice and herbs, the fire going and wrapped it all in foil. Then it was buried in the coals along with the sweet potatoes, breadfruit and corn on the cob. We had to stand guard while cooking in order to keep the wild marauding chickens away from all the food.

Just before sunset we set up several picnic tables and benches on the beach, and laid out the spread of food. Several salads, fresh bread, all kinds of vegetables and baked potatoes - with a stuffed duck as the centerpiece. The hordes descended, and by the time sunset was fading into an afterglow, we had eaten everything. It certainly was a high old Thanksgiving on Tortola that year.