I'm a punk. I admit it. I love a good travel adventure but in the end, St. Kitts managed to kick my butt. I'm a big biking fan, as my weekly rides on my tricked out, pink Raleigh attests. But I just wasn't prepared for biking in St. Kitts. I trotted out for an early morning ride with my press comrades and quickly crumbled. What could be so tough about biking through a tiny and lovely little island you ask?
Then we have the gorgeous Basseterre landscape. I was surrounded by verdant green vegetation everywhere I looked. The Caribbean Sea beckoned over the hills. Hills. I somehow had forgotten how hilly St. Kitts is. You can't go two steps without encountering a hill, mountain or volcano. Love climbing them but riding? Let's just say that although I recognize the overall physical value of the escapade, I did not turn down our guide's offer to let me ride in his truck for the remainder of the two-hour ride. The rest of my comrades stayed strong on their bikes and I watched proudly from the window of the truck as their muscles pulsed and the sweat poured.
We rolled past the Government House, residence of the Governor General of St. Kitts. The armed guard allowed me to take a photo but he was serious about guarding the house, as you can gather from his expression.
This is the Government House, where the Governor General was not in residence at the time but that still didn't keep the guards and their guns from guarding it. It's "protocol" we were told.
We rode into downtown Basseterre to the Circus, which is my favorite part. Modeled after London's Piccadilly Circus, St. Kitts British colonial influence is prominently displayed with the bronze Berkeley Memorial Clock and the surrounding roundabout. The ride back uphill was of course treacherous, I felt every steep incline radiating under the seat of the truck.