Rivers rum

Old school

This water wheel is not located in Asheville. We're headed down south again – to a rum distillery – for today's post. So put on your Speedos and your drinking hats, here we go!

As soon as we arrived, I fell in love with the River Antoine Rum Distillery. The little outside plaza feels almost European, with a two-story brick house covered in flowers thrown in for good measure.

Located on the northeast coast of Grenada, the distillery pumps out some serious rum. Like, seriously. There are two flavors: 69 percent and 75 percent.

The good folks at Rivers make the 69 percent for people who want to bring some rum home with them. It seems you can light the 75 percent on fire, so it's not allowed on airplanes.

"Rivers" as it's known locally, hasn't changed its process since 1785, when the waterwheel was built. The wheel turns a thing, which turns another thing that turns yet another thing, ultimately crushing sugar cane, the main ingredient for the rum. As far as I could tell, it's all about water and then things turning.

Rivers uses the sugar cane husks as fuel for the fire, so nothing is wasted. Except for the people drinking the rum.

Here we see how the water wheel makes the little thing turn the big thing, which crushes the sugar cane. Rivers crushes the sugar cane twice, to make it magically delicious. ...Which it kind of isn't.

Let's just say you either love it or you don't.

They leave the sweet juice to ferment for a while in large tanks and then something happens with a giant fire that's always cooking. At this point in the tour, I had become focused on the main goal of the trip: Tasting Rivers rum. So I wasn't really listening that much anymore.

Unfortunately, I tasted the 75 percent first, so I couldn't taste the 69 percent. Holy rum! My mouth and chest were burning for the entire 20-minute drive home.

As usual, Barb and I fell in love with the place. We bought three bottles of the 69 percent rum. Our plan was to drink one and then bring the other two home. One for us and one for my parents, who were lovely enough to be staying at our house and taking care of our unlicensed petting zoo while we were drinking rum.

Apparently, we had a good time drinking the first bottle of Rivers, though Barb could smell when I opened it in another room. So we decided we were not bringing any home. We gave one bottle to our newest friends Chris and Jim. What happened to the third bottle is any one's guess.

Sometimes, you have no idea. That's Rivers, baby. It's rumtacular.

Yes, it snows in Asheville

Peanut trying to go sledding

It isn't much, but it is snow. Or, as I like to call it, really cold water.

Speaking of which...

More really cold water

Found him!

And he's watching us

...from a distance

Next up: Elvis and then Morrison.

The boat builder

Boat builder, boat builder
Build me a boat...

For more than a year, I've kept this blog focused on Asheville. But now in its second year, I feel like it's time to branch out into my other favorite places in the world. I can't help it.

Should I start another blog? Or – dare I say it – is it time to join the Tweeterverse?

Christ on a cross. Another existential crisis has begun!

True Caribbean
The impetus for my latest psychological distress is the trip Barb and I just took to Grenada. Holy shit. This was the best trip we've taken in a long, long time.

The problem is that Grenada passed the test: I can definitely live there. I think Barb might be able to as well. And the people are so great, they actually bump Thais and Balinese to second and third nicest people in the world.

So I have to write about it, right?

My first Grenada post is about the boat builder in Darvey Bay, on the north coast of Grenada. The boat builder skips to the front of the line because my newest best friend Chris requested a boat builder blog post ASAP. I think my other newest best friend Jim would have agreed, but he was still over on Bathway Beach drinking rum. Or at a party somewhere.

Fun fact: Chris and Jim are by far my favorite drinking friends. Ever. They're also in their mid-70s. Go for your life, mates!

Back to the boat builder. He's a very nice man who – wait for it – builds unbelievable boats. Which is a good thing. After all, it would be pretty weird if you're called the boat builder and you actually build lousy banjos.

I used to take notes when I traveled, but it made people really nervous. So I stopped. Therefore, I couldn't remember the boat builder's name. Chris has visited with the boat builder a few times and had drinks with him, so I asked what his name is.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris said, thinking about it. "Yeah..."

"Let's just call him the boat builder," he finally said.

The boat featured here is 28-feet long. It's made out of pine and cedar. The boat builder bends the wood with clamps and sheer strength.

Barb the boat inspector

The really interesting thing is how the boat builder actually builds his boats. Or how he kind of doesn't build them. The young guy on the left in the picture above – who actually looks like he's the one doing all the work – is a fisherman who commissioned the boat. While working on his projects, the boat builder has the owners work with him on the boats so they become extremely familiar with them. 

As someone who grew up on boats, that's a great idea. Because shit always goes wrong on boats. Always.

And when you're a few miles out in the ocean and a storm is whipping up, that's not the best place to think to yourself, "Hey, I wonder how this whole boat thing works?"

That's it for today, my friends. But don't worry, FYA will be talking about Grenada more in the future. Probably a lot.

Because that place really floats my boat.

Save Coral Bay!

Save Coral Bay!

(Photo courtesy of Daniel Joel Pinto)

Sometimes, people with money and power go too far, and the community fights back. This is one of those times.

So here's my letter to the Army Corps of Engineers. You can find out more at Save Coral Bay on facebook.

Dear Mr. [redacted]:

I hope this note finds you doing well. I’m writing to express my opposition to the proposed marina in Coral Bay Harbor, St. John, USVI – a project of “The Summers End Group, LLC.”

My wife and I visited Coral Bay for the first time in December, 2006. Coral Bay’s beauty and tranquility immediately captivated us. We have returned every year since then.

However, if the Summers End marina is approved, my wife and I have no plans to return. Since we love St. John dearly, we will continue to visit – and bring friends – but we will avoid Coral Bay. It makes us sad, but not as sad as a giant concrete monstrosity that is being forced upon the community. In fact, this entire fiasco makes us wonder if we should find another island that isn’t planning to pave paradise.

Here are the reasons I oppose the Summers End marina:

The economics don’t make sense

I have an undergraduate degree in economics and a master’s degree in business administration (MBA), yet I fail to see how the proposed marina would actually help Coral Bay’s economy. First, as is easy to see in social media, the people who live in and are regular visitors to Coral Bay do not want a “mega marina.” Any jobs created for the long-term would be mainly service-oriented, seasonal jobs.

But that’s putting the cart before the buggy, because I truly believe that during the years it will take to noisily pound 1,333 pilings into the harbor will destroy the environment and pleasantness of Coral Bay. Simply put, my wife and I will no longer visit Coral Bay if the marina project goes forward. During our nine visits to the area, we have brought 11 people with us. For the most part, we ate meals in Coral Bay and shopped at the groceries there.

How many other people like my wife and I will not return to Coral Bay if the marina is approved? That’s a very important question.

I think the mass exodus of tourists will have a horrible effect on Coral Bay’s economy. And what of those mega-yachts? How many large marinas are already within 10 miles of the proposed project? I don’t know the exact answer, but there are many. In fact, some have many empty slips. I just don’t see any pent-up demand for a massive marina in Coral Bay.

That said, a smaller project that truly shares information with the community and partners with it to create something everyone can enjoy – not just extremely rich people – would probably serve as a better project that both residents and regular visitors could enjoy.

The environment will suffer

In the water, the construction will destroy the sea beds. This will have a negative impact on the dolphins, turtles, sharks and rare corals that live in and around Coral Bay.

The pristine waters of Hurricane Hole, within the Virgin Islands National Park, are just one bay away from Coral Bay. The potential impacts to this unique and priceless resource should not be ignored for the sake of development.

The community will suffer

On land, the amount of construction equipment needed for a project of this scope will push the small community of Coral Bay to the edge. Based on the proposed pictures I’ve seen, the accompanying noise and debris for a marina this large will make Coral Bay pretty much uninhabitable for years.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I hope that this letter, and others like it, help you make the decision to stop this project.

Sincerely,

Scoop Skupien

Guys, we need to talk about hell

Some like it uncool

Now that I'm sharing this photo, I'm mad that I didn't stop to take a few pictures last summer. You see, while riding my bike, I encountered quite a few "Angry Jesus" church signs. Fire and brimstone stuff.

There was one in particular that made me think, "Wow, Jesus Christ (amen) is f*cking pissed off! I better get out of here!"

Then again, the way the guy went out, you can't blame him for being a little angry. Am I right?

AVLersary!

Any day on your bike 

is a good day

Exactly one year ago today, my wonderful wife and I arrived in Asheville, NC. We moved here for many reasons, but the big one for me was the fact that I could no longer handle Chicago winters.

Even back in grade school, I remember looking at maps and wondering why I lived in a place that made me extremely uncomfortable for more than half the year. Where “the air hurts my face,” as a recent meme on facebook explains perfectly.

To put it mildly: I hate cold weather. It sucks. F*ck cold weather.

So I was thrilled when the predictions were correct and it was 53 degrees today. Blue skies, sunshine, world-class mountain biking a few miles away – a perfect day to hit Bent Creek!



First hour?

Five measly miles

Over three long hours, I only covered 23.6 miles. But as you can see above, I was climbing for almost the entire first hour.

Oy.

Up, down, up, down,

fast, slow...

I took the North Boundary fire road almost all the way to the top of the ridge. Then it was time to have some fun. So I shot down Green's Lick trail. 

Holy mother of god, what a good time. It was a little muddy, but at this time of year, I'm used to frozen tundra, so I was laughing as the mud hit me in the face. 

Ha ha ha! F*ck you mud!

I love the fact that I can ride year-round here. That said, I don't like getting all sweaty while riding up a mountain and then flying down it while drenched in sweat. Then there are all the leaves that cover all those obstructions. Oh yeah, and the ice at higher elevations.

Can you believe that? Note to self: You carry five different hats with you when you ride in the winter, shut up you whiny little b*tch. And you're best friends with the greatest shoulder surgeon in the world, so don't worry about it.

Therefore, it bears repeating: Get on your bikes and ride!