Years ago, on the northwest coast of Tortola, a man named Bomba had a vision. A vision of locals and tourists, gathered together under the light of the full moon, dancing and drinking, celebrating life, and getting trippy on mushroom tea. (Hey, I said the guy had visions, didn’t I?) Years later, his parties are still going strong.
Unfortunately, Bomba’s Shack is more myth than reality these days. The shack was built by Bomba in 1976, starting with driftwood that he found washed up on the beach, which he assembled into a makeshift building and started selling beer from. Over the years, it’s grown beyond it’s original roots, but it still retains the driftwood feel. Bomba’s is now split into two bars, one on either side of the road. The beach side bar is the original building, and is the smaller of the two. It somehow manages to retain a bit of a 70’s lounge feel to it, despite having no furniture (or walls, for that matter). It’s the epitome of a local dive bar that the locals don’t seem to go to. Across the street is the other half of Bomba’s, with much more space to cater to a larger group, which is what you get every month on the night of the full moon. Oddly, you have to go to one counter to get drink tickets for $5 each, which you then take to the bar to get your beers. I’m not sure what that’s about, but it took us a while to figure out.
Since 1989, Bomba has hosted a full moon party at the shack, complete with music and beer and dancing. The earlier hours are family-friendly, but as the night wanes on, families with small kids should probably head home. I was there on a Wednesday night, so it wasn’t too bad, but I get the impression that it can get a little crazy when the full moon coincides with a Friday or Saturday. The bar wasn’t too crowded so you could get your beers quickly and there isn’t anything raunchy or indecent going on that I could see. The smell of patchouli and weed was definitely in the air, with the latter overpowering the former. But at midnight, Bomba makes his legendary mushroom tea, which is what draws most people to the party.
Whether or not magic mushrooms are legal in the BVI is a question that I’m not equipped to discuss, but there weren’t any cops around, so it’s a moot point. For $20, you get a souvenir mug that is good for bottomless refills of mushroom tea, which is brewed in giant oil drums and is served hot. It looked like about 1/3 of the partiers had a mug in their hand, but there’s nothing to stop one person from buying a mug and sharing it with their friends, so that number might skew a little low. Cristina and I made a game of trying to guess what chemicals are flowing through each attendee’s bloodstream. Between the alcohol, marijuana, mushrooms, and whatever else might have been passed around, everyone seemed to be having a good time, dancing, talking, laughing, and, in some cases, drooling on themselves.
The DJ was clearly unpaid (or if he was paid, that payment should have been rescinded), since he couldn’t mix worth a damn. With the skills he demonstrated, I find it hard to believe that he was a real DJ. It’s more likely that he’s Bomba’s nephew who needed a job or the village idiot who set up shop on the stage. Either way, people were still dancing and having a good time, so I guess the drugs were good for something after all.
In my opinion, the party itself was a bit of a letdown. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. It was a little too mellow for what I had hoped would be a legendary party, but I guess it’s hard to make it legendary when it happens every month. The crowd was having a good time, the music was tolerable, and the weather was gorgeous. Maybe it was because it was a Wednesday or maybe the parties are more hype than anything else. Maybe it’s because, while Bomba started the full moon party tradition in the British Virgin Islands, other bars have followed suit, stealing the crowds. No matter the cause, it was a good time, to be sure. Take a friend or three, grab your intoxicant of choice, and kick back with the warm Caribbean breeze and the full moon shining on you. It sure as hell beats being in the office.
When you leave, head west along the road and you’ll find a local vendor selling street food about 200 yards up the road. For $10, we got 2 empanadas with spicy chicken and some kind of fried donut thing that was really tasty. It’s just what the doctor ordered after a night of howling at the moon.
Oh, and make sure you wash your cup thoroughly before coming back through customs. You don’t need the drug dog catching that in your bag.
