Many years ago a bus transport on the island of Dominica consisted of an industrial sized Bedford truck fitted out with wooden bench seats and a canopy. Access on and off was easy especially for those carrying gunny sacks of produce or livestock. But the ride was a literal pain-in-the-ass as the “bus” sped over roads riddled with potholes.













Bruce and Joyce in Portsmouth

As the Bedfords were thinning out, Bruce painted a mural at Leonardo’s Restaurant in the town of Portsmouth. The proprietor, a friendly woman named Joyce, asked him to make a painting of the countryside and a bus. She, unbeknownst to Bruce, was referring to the modern vehicle which hit the island in the mid-70’s, Toyota vans with seats and windows galore.

Murals take days and on the final one Joyce came to inspect her new art acquisition but was outraged at what she saw. “Dat not a bus! Dat a truck!” Bruce explained that he’d painted the Bedford rig because they would soon be history but Joyce was unconvinced.

After a dozen years and a monster sized hurricane we returned to find Leonardo’s out of business. Our knock on the door was answered by a woman. Bruce asked, “Joyce?”

“Yez, me Joyce.”

“I’m Bruce.”

“Boose? Boose? I tot you was dead!” she exclaimed as she nearly knocked him down with a hug.
Inside the restaurant-turned-house was the mural; the Bedford bus climbing the mountainous road surrounded by lush vegetation. “You wuz right,” Joyce said. “De buses, dey is all gone. I bring de children in ere and tell dem dat dis is ow we use to do it.”

Our visit ended that day on the porch just as a tow-truck rolled past hauling a Bedford truck-bus down the road. That was the last one we ever saw.




Last month we sailed again to Dominica and went immediately to find Joyce. The mural, still on her wall, held the history she still shares with each passing child. Although she misses those old vehicles she loves the fancy new bus owned and operated by her husband, Leonardo. She insisted we take a ride with him on his daily rounds as the postman.



He picked us up, the passenger seat heaped with marked bags, and we left Portsmouth on winding roads that climbed up and down mountains. Groves of bananas and coconuts flashed past the windows interrupted by giant breadfruit and heavily laden mango trees. Dominica is HUGE, collecting rivers of water that produce size XL plants.



On the northeast coast the ground seas lashed the black sand beaches. Tiny one-donkey-villages blew by, their occupants waving hello and goodbye. Periodically we’d collect or deposited a paying passenger all amidst the earsplitting sound of the Caribbean’s latest speaker busting music hits. Every once in a while Leonardo would turn his head to us announcing the name of a village. It seemed we might roll forever but a road washout stopped us short, ended the magical adventure.

Back in Portsmouth Leonardo dropped us at Joyce’s store and she greeted, “How it was? Good? You like de bus?”

“Yes, Joyce, it was good. Dat a nice bus!.”

Sailing back to Nevis after a fifteen year absence, we wondered what changes we'd see and it didn't take long to find the answer. The first was the new mooring field in the anchorage that, as we entered at midnight, appeared on our radar screen as a gigantic mine field. The next change rose with the sun as we surveyed the beach before us that held nothing but a bunch of naked trees. Pinney's Beach, famous for it's black sand and swaying palms had been hit by Yellow Leaf Disease which is moving up the mountain, taking every palm in it's path. A bit further down the beach sat the third change, the now defunct Four Season's Resort that was flooded in October by Hurricane Omar.



The rest of the island was, luckily, untouched by time. In the capital of Charlestown, the one and sometimes two lane road meanders crookedly past old pointed-stone buildings.



Scattered about are two story skirt and blouse-style structures and, of course, a handfull of tiny West Indian bars and snackettes. A bus trip up and around the mountain was a time travel to the sleeping village of Gingerland. Nearby a hike up a hillside took us past old sugar plantations and windmills.



Just like the sign, Nevis nice mon, until we stumbled upon the problem...

Clinging to the Four Seasons property is Sunshines, a sprawling rasta colored shack decorated inside with photos of the proprietor mugging with the rich and famous. He sells food, drinks and "Sunny" things like t-shirts. On one of the shirts, to our surprise, was a Bruce Smith image created a decade ago for a rum label. The rum brand never happened but Sunshine, friend of the rich and famous, stole the image and has been printing and selling shirts for ten years without permission, without payment, without even a simple thank you. When Bruce went to chat with Sunshine about the copyright violation, he was met with denial, lies and the threat of bodily harm. Not very sunny, Sunshine.

So Regis and Kelly, next time you're on island, I'd take a pass on the not-so-sunny place and head next door to Chevy's.

Times are tough all over so if you were thinking of avoiding the madness by escaping to a Caribbean island…think again.

The economic downturn has rippled it’s way through the Caribbean Sea, sending waves of whoa onto each and every island.


Oh, sure, private planes and mega yachts still deliver the uber-rich like our neighbor in the anchorage, the world’s largest sailing vessel, Maltese Falcon. The grandest hotels, although not full, seem to be staying busy. Cruise ships continue their rounds bringing fewer guests yet enough to swell the islands they frequent. Tourism is alive but droopy. People are spending money but doing so with care.

As everywhere, it’s the little guy who’s been hit the hardest, the small business owners who are clinging to hope or were forced to shut down. We see a lot of price slashing signs around. In Phillipsburg, St. Marten, the long string of jewelry stores are having bling wars, each one trying to grab more customers by increasing their discounts. 25% off, 40% off, 50% discounts on down (or up) to 80% off. Now if those reductions are legitimate, that’d be a heck of a price cut on a $10,000 bracelet or ring!

In November I wrote about Mario, the Hot Dog Man, a hardworking street vendor selling $2 hot dogs and $1 beers, something surely anyone could afford. We found him recently in his usual spot in St. Marten but without the cart. “Hey, Hot Dog Man, where’s the dogs?” I asked.




“I wasn’t makin any money!” he said. “Da people walk by an dey jus ain buyin.“ Disappointed but undaunted, he re-tooled his business by ditching the cart and setting up a table in the same spot to display and sell the palm frond bowls and birds he creates right there. Still smiling I watched him greet passing tourists, answering their many questions, still St. Marten’s friendliest ambassador.

Perhaps the secret to success is diversification, like the highly painted place in Gingerland on the island of Nevis. Clarke’s One Stop Restaurant and Sports Bar seems to have it all…bread, pastries, groceries, pool room, Mac and Cheese and plenty of customers.

















If for some reason you don’t find what you need there, there’s always the John E. Howell Pansy Parris Plaza where you can shop for fashion, ointments, household utensils, supplies and stationary while you “top up” your phone. Now that is truly a “Super Selection.”







Some West Indian enterprises seem to be holding their own despite a simple stock. The Ice House in Jost Van Dyke backs up their main event with some local jams and jellies but it’s the cold stuff that keeps them going.




Dany’s Hair Fashion is doing well but, really, that’s a business with job security. And, of course, all the little rum shops that dot each island like freckles are as busy as ever because finally, people have a reason to drink.