The two travel bloggers should have both been smarter, but they ended up getting ripped off on their way to the Pitons in St. Lucia and embarking on a hellish journey through a Caribbean port.
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Castries, St. Lucia
Matthew and Augustine recently went on their first cruise, and our travel agent was on board with the group. I've known Matthew for 15 years, and we rarely travel together, despite my posts on Sunday riling up readers. It was a rare treat for us to see something new, and for the kids to meet each other for the first time.
We were on the same boat and set off to Castries, St. Lucia to see what was there, we were prepared for everything from beaches to shopping to mud bath adventures, if the worst happened in St. Lucia we could do it.
First mistake
Neither of us had a clear idea of what we wanted to do that day, and out of kindness or courtesy, neither of us wanted to disrupt the other's day, so neither of us solidified plans.
Then a peddler came along. A man approached us, offering to take us on a tour of the mud baths, the Pitons, and a few other things. To be fair, we just wanted to see a bit of the island. The last time we were there as a family we spent a day at the beach and loved it, but we had never taken a mud bath and had only seen the Pitons from the water. Our new friend promised to take us to the Pitons, about an hour and a half round trip. We needed to be back on the boat in 4 hours, so this seemed like a good time. We negotiated the price to get it a little cheaper, but left enough for the driver and his… agent to earn a day’s wage or at least half of it. We agreed on $100 for our group of six (3 kids, 3 adults) to tour the area in a van for 90 minutes. The attendant took us to his “driver” Nissan Maxima, but we declined, as it would not be safe to drive with the number of people in our group.
We transferred to a van with linoleum flooring and a friendly driver who was up to the task.
Mistake #2
As this was Matthew's first cruise with Augustine he was worried he might get seasick, and while the initial boat ride was a little uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to the sickness he would get as he slid over the hills and winding roads of the countryside, and the one with the weakest stomach among us told everyone 20 minutes into the trip that this wasn't going to end well.
But after 45 minutes of navigating potholes and cliff edges, we were all close to throwing up on command.
At this point I knew we were nearly there on the 90 minute round trip, so I asked, “How much longer?”
“15 more minutes,” our police officer-cum-private chauffeur reassured us as we drove through quaint fishing villages. I looked around for a boat to take us to the jetty, tell us the experience had been a waste, and spare us the painful journey home. After a quick look around, no such boat was to be found, and the drive continued.
After 20 minutes, I began to worry that we might be too far gone to make the boat, and no one was going to stick around in that car long enough to bother with mud baths and mossy piles.
“How much longer?” I called out.
“Fifteen more minutes.” Matthew and I exchanged looks. This isn't good.
“Sorry, 20 minutes ago you said 15 minutes left. It's still 15 minutes left. How far is it?”
“It's a two-hour drive there and two hours drive back,” he said.
“No. Park the car. We don't have much time. The boat is leaving. The guy at the dock said it's 45 minutes going there and 45 minutes coming back.”
Then we filled up with gas. Luckily, we weren't asked to empty our wallets to finish the trip, as is common in gas scams, but 35 Caribbean dollars (2:1 US) were pumped into the car and we stayed in until we could continue our journey.
The well-meaning driver began calculating out loud, but the numbers didn't add up, and it was clear we wouldn't get back on time—and there was a good chance we'd paid $100 for a bowel check for absolutely no reason, ruining a fun afternoon at the beach and swimming in the ship's pool while everyone else was on land.
He offered to do a roadside rum tasting, which we had already declined earlier in the journey when he called it a “rum distillery.” He didn't really get the point. We told him we needed to turn back, and he said, “10 more minutes,” and started driving this poor Toyota at breakneck speed around curves and potholed roads, as if we could do anything to end the trip. Were we each going to grab a kid, open the door, and tumble into the jungle?
Mistake #3
They extended the session by 20 minutes from the 45 minutes originally agreed upon, and then granted an additional 10 minutes. They should not have extended it that much.
We were lucky enough to get some amazing photos on the side of the road with the Pitons in the background, which seemed almost perfectly planned.
Ten minutes later, perhaps by chance, we found a parking space with a nice view and a gazebo. The driver had somewhere he wanted to take us further ahead and was convinced we would wait a little longer. In fact, we had to wait a little longer. My wife and I learned a valuable lesson in Thailand to get out of the car and never get in again when a driver is destined to take us wherever he will take a fee for some vague tourist profit.
We all knew it was coming, but maybe because it was so unfamiliar to us, we somehow still felt compelled to see it, like a cliché ending to a poorly written kids' TV show.
return
We took photos, said we'd write our own version of the incident and see how different it all was, and made our way noisily back inside the linoleum-covered Toyota.
“It'll be a lot quicker going home,” he shouted over his shoulder as we sped along the somehow narrow road. And yeah, it'd be a lot quicker going home if you stopped trying to drop us off at your buddy's roadside distillery.
We returned to the fishing village where we had looked around earlier for a boat to take us home. Matthew was keen to take some photos and, about 20 minutes into the journey back, it was the perfect time for us to take a break. We had been close to hungry before but this time we were at our wits' end. Green around the gills, we took a few more photos and then climbed back on board.
Amazingly, we took the same route, up and down the same hills, and got home 20 minutes faster, and the driver never had to show his badge.
By the time the van reached the port we were already fed up, we paid our fee, said thank you as if we hadn't wasted our day and money, and went inside to head back to the ship.
Being so-called travel gurus, my husband and I made some pretty obvious rookie mistakes. We both knew what was going on, from the initial solicitation to the upselling to the length and distance of the trip. But maybe that's how it goes, even when you know it's a scam and you see it coming, you still fall for the trap. To this day, I wonder: was he really a cop?
What do you think? Have you ever been a victim of travel scams? What was your experience like? How did you get out of it?
