A dichotomy of sorts has presented itself on my first day in St. Lucia.  On the one hand, the wonders of modern air travel (even with all the security nuisances and poor service that plague the industry) continue to amaze me.  I woke up this morning and departed my Toronto-area home in -17c weather…the early-morning newscaster cheerfully remined me that it was really more like -23c with the Windchill.  Five hours later the cabin doors were opened on my Westjet aircraft letting in a blast of humid air.  +33c.  Is it really possible that in a mere five hours, a commercial jetliner can transport me from what, in Star Wars parlance, is a trip from Hoth to Dagoba?  Incredible.

And yet here I am comfortably ensconced in the lap of luxury at Jade Mountain and my pathetic excuse for a Rogers Rocket Stick has set my technological clock back nearly a decade as I struggle with dial-up-esque speeds.  Sorry folks…there will be no photo dumps in these travelogues.  You’ll have to wait until my return.

Having said that, I can already sense that Jade Mountain is in a class by itself.  I sit here in a room so large, it would nearly engulf my first home.  My 4th “wall” is nothing but a narrow wire railing allowing the humid jungle air to permeate our sanctuary as I gaze over my laptop screen past the verdant green jungle, over the torquise water, coming to rest on the twin sugarloaf mountains that are St. Lucia’s treasured calling card to the world.

Tomorrow morning, at 6:30am, we depart with our guide in an attempt to conquer the taller of the two — Gros Piton.  The hike is expected to take 4-6 hours roundtrip.  The Crime Traveller’s wife is already demanding an in-room massage after a dip in the in-room pool to ease her anticipatory muscle pain.  Who am I to argue?  Tonight’s chromatherapy jacuzzi was just the warm-up.