The Insiders' Guide to St. Barths: Time-Life on St Barthelemy

Goaded into a response. Let me see if I can pull together several threads. ..I was going to go out to dinner with my lovely wife last night to the latest and greatest resteraunt here in North Salem after fixing a leaky pipe but the blizzard and a dead truck battery kept us in. Naked, relying on our generator for emergency power, we sat by our toasty, roaring fire, trying new vintages from the local wineries, thinking of the old days in SBH.

My musings brought me to visions of early Camp David.

I was introduced to SBH in the late 1960s. I was a mere youth of 10 / 11 years old. Some of the founding fathers and mothers of modern day SBH were still alive, had hair and were still svelt. Even as a boy, I could feel the buccaneer, free spirit, laise faire attitude that prevailed on the island.

Building a house and furnishing it was a real adventure for my parents. I was fortunate to be a part of helping my father create his mecca.

I digress....

My brother and I used to cruise St. Jean in our ubiquitious surfer jams. (Those printed cotton knee length things that we insisted were bathing suits.) Eden Rock was the only commmercial enterprize there. In my innocence, Eden Rock served only two purposes.. 1) a place to stop and see the loungouste in their pens and 2) something to circumvent in order to get from one end of the idilic beach to the other. Topas bar??

So, in the early 70's, during our beach wanderings we happened across a new establishment being crudely erected / cleared between the beach and a swampy environ on the eastern crescent of St. Jean. There, we spied "middle aged" men and women dressed or undressed in what appeared to be Tarzan and Jane outfits, making "Camp". Hammocks, open fires, palm frond shelters, candles in coconuts and wine bottles, 55 gallon barrels of water and styrofoam refrigerators made up the household furnishings. Bronzed, blonde, naked toddlers ran blissfully, randomly about. This is what I remember of what I believe is now called Camp David. Back then, it was Michael's Camp.

Michael was the camp's founder and alpha dog. I never determined what the relationships were between the men, women and children. (other than assuming the children belonged to the older campers) I never cared to know and I still could not care less. Everyone at the camp was very nice to my brother and me. It was a fun place to visit and play. Sort of a Swiss Family Robinson type place in our minds. Over time / several different visits to SBH and Michael's commune, we would see some new faces in residence. (some had left)

I vividly remember Michael and my collecting spiny urchins in st. Jean bay, bringing them to the beach, opening them with my knife on a piece of driftwood, squeezing lime juice on the roe and slurping it all down. If only I was old enough to chase it with a swig of Mt. Gay. Michael did.

It may be my imagination, but I think I remember Michael, either being from "money" or had made some money and had gotten burned out in his rat race. Regardless, he was a very nice guy. My father and Michael would talk about things as they related to living on SBH. The past or the "real" world was never discussed.

I do not really know the full story behind the camp and I lost touch with the evolution of the camp's development as I had to grow up, get further educated and start paying my own bills.

Just some of my thoughts, forgive the ramble and misspellings..

Chas.

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Chas