‘Jammin n’ liming’ in schooners from Tobago Cays to Mustique

The longest we have stayed at anyone place has been in Bequia, I think that alone demonstrates the rather special feeling about the place...but it’s not all a bed of roses: I’ll come back to that later. The island is so small you continually bump into the same people; which actually gives a somewhat comforting feel. Our apartment at the Gingerbread was proving to be an excellent choice as we were right in the thick of the activities; especially over the Easter weekend

Gingerbread hotel and apartments:

Ours is the one on the right...not far to the beach or the bar!

Meeting fellow travellers can sometimes be a humbling experience. One young French couple already have an 18 month old toddler, with another due in a few weeks, are intending to sail a repaired 27’ hurricane wrecked boat..., circumnavigating the world! Another Polish couple have a similar plan in a 30’ yacht and just stop to find work when they run out of money ...now that’s free living; but not for Old Gits!

Easter weekend brought many day-trippers from St.Vincent, ferries stuffed full of weekend revellers.

Easter Ferry...

The quiet town of Port Elizabeth suddenly vibrated to the thumping heavy beat of a sort of modern reggae, FOG did try to enlighten MOG but he just grunted! Stalls were erected all over the town and in grounds of the municipal building and churches. Barb-a-ques, beer tents, coconut vendors, arts and crafts gave the place a Caribbean version of a village fete atmosphere.

Maypole dancing & locals enjoy Easter festival

Alcohol abounded but there was no loutish behaviour and we saw why...

MOG should be careful, mixing his drinks!

As the original plan had been to charter a yacht we did find ourselves with time on our hands. FOG took the opportunity to find a ‘decent’ hairdresser...

Dawn & hair – She should have saved her money... (Opps)

MOG on the other hand went diving an old German tug boat that was sunk in 1996. It sits upright on the seabed and diving down to it is a thrilling experience. Already the boat is encrusted in plants and coral and an abundance of fish...oh for an underwater camera!

Friendship Rose under full sail

You don’t come all this way and not venture out into the Grenadines. The ‘Friendship Rose’ is a 90’ schooner built on Bequia in the 60s.

Skipper eyeing the camera with suspicion

The skipper had built it with his brothers and working such a large boat with no winches required a large crew and all hands on deck...

MOG tries to show them how it’s done!

Way anchor!

Our destination was the marine conservation area of Tobago Cays. These uninhabited cluster of islands is truly something out of a film set, and that is exactly what it has been...the most recent being the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’.

Boat on the reef at Tobago Cays

We snorkelled with turtles and one particular ‘old fella’, we were told later could have been a hundred years old, just grazed on the sea grass quite oblivious to the ecstatic flapping of tourists floating on the surface above him. We then moved onto the reef itself which is reputed to be one of the top 7 in the world. The wind had started to increase and made snorkelling on the reef quite precarious as we floated very close to stinging corals and large black sea urchins lurked menacingly in crags their spins waiting for a carelessly placed foot or knee.

Lunch on the old schooner was first class and washed down with a cold beer made life seem very pleasant..., this is what ‘liming’ is all about then? However the long sail back tacking into the wind did have FOG eying me with her ‘look’...”you were going to bring me out here in a small yacht.” Maybe it was fortunate we never did manage to charter a yacht; I’m not sure the marriage would have lasted! It took a while before we entered Admiralty Bay with a few sighs of relief from some passengers...

Waves over the bow...

The next day we were on another schooner, ‘Passat’ heading towards Mustique...definitely FOG country. Snorkelling was once again on offer but FOG firmly shook her head: tropical celebrity spotting was the order of the day...

Both the Passat & Friendship Rose travel to Mustique

We were tendered to shore and in true tourist mode we took a local taxi. Our guide turned out to be quite a character with a good sense of humour. Tommy Hillfiger’s house he particularly recommended for rent...a bargain at $125,000 per week! We ventured down to a beach and caught sight of Gerry Hall, ex-husband Mick Jagger and Bryan Adams’ houses.

Mick Jagger’s House on left

It was one of those special moments you rarely experience in life. As we stood in awe of the houses in front of us, Mick and Bryan were engrossed in a ‘jammin’ session. They saw us and hailed us over asking whether we would mind joining them...we were obliging of course; I mean it would be rude not to. Mick particularly loved the OGGY idea...; then a loud horn woke me from my day dream and we clambered back into the taxi...!

Of course we had to stop at the Firefly for a drink; the bar had an incredible view of the bay below. MOG gulped at the prices on the drinks menu and nearly fainted as FOG ordered a champagne cocktail... A sharp look and “If you add up all the beers you drink...” MOG sat back and closed his eyes muttering for a local beer. Unfortunately it seemed the tropical celebrity hunt was not going well, we suspect they retreat back to their houses when the schooners are spotted on the horizon. FOG sighed heavily as she spent most of the trip explaining to MOG who all the celebrities were! He actually thought Shania Twain must have been an American author... We walked down to the infamous Basil’s Bar and FOG sat in anticipation her head swivelling round like an owl...but Mick and company remained firmly entrenched in MOG’s daydream...

After a week we had become accustomed to the Bequia way of life, especially shopping. When the doleful lament of a conch shell sounded early in the morning we all hurried to the fish market for our day’s supply.

Real fresh fish...

The fruit and vegetable market had numerous vendors and despite a huge sign stating customers would not be ‘harassed’ that is exactly what happened. In the process of purchasing vegetables from a quiet lady we were harassed by her neighbouring stallholder; but we held our ground..., our confidence was growing!

A disappointing aspect of this island is the attitude of the vast majority of Bequians. They do not have any concept of service. Examples are too numerous to mention but MOG especially became exasperated when entering a bar to be totally ignored, even when it was empty. The worst part is the resigned shrug of the shoulder as the barman finally shuffles reluctantly over and raises his chin in a questioning manner; no enquiry or pleasantries. MOG did lose his cool with one particular obnoxious barman and when paying asked him if he understood what charisma meant... A blank stare, then that “look”..., I think he finally cottoned onto to sarcasm!

But you just can’t beat the sunsets here...

Yet another sunset!

The soothing effect of Bequia...

On the ferry to Bequia the dark cloud of St.Vincent receded into the distance. We chatted to the two British secret service guys we had met at our hotel; they may not be ‘00’ status, but spies none the less. They had some cock’n’ bull story that they were headmasters from the UK working with the West Indian University on modern teaching practises...as if any educational authority would fund two of their top people to go on a jaunt to the Windies...I don’t think so. They did attempt to play the part in the evenings by pretending to prepare lectures; all I can say is, it had better be about the inside of a beer bottle...! We also caught them taking pictures as the quay side...definitely up to no good. (Only joking lads!)

The two 'British spies exchange information while two ladies discuss life on the ferry


























When the ferry tugged into the small town of Port Elizabeth you noticed people’s shoulders relax. It was so picturesque that no photograph would do it just, but I’ll try...

I said I’d try...





























We were staying at the Frangipani Hotel and once again we found we were rip-off by a local taxi, $15 for 200 yards! We do seem to attract them...;however nothing could dampen our spirits as we entered the cool shade of the bar and reception area; right on the beach where all the ‘yachties’ moored their tenders.

Tenders in the sunset

Shown to our room, slightly elevated on the hillside, we opened the doors onto the veranda and there was the whole of Admiral Bay spread out in front of us. The bay was filling up rapidly in preparation for the Bequia Easter Regatta. Boats from all nations mingled with the locals and their fishing boats...






Submerged fishing boat. At first glance you would imagine this boat is in trouble...not so. It is being submerged to allow the timbers to expand in readiness for the regatta.













The first afternoon and evening on Bequia was, not to put too fine a point on it, magical. Boobies dived into the water all around us fishing for their supper, as we ambled contently into the town.


Frigate Birds, locally known as ‘Boobies’, dive for fish in the harbour.



We sampled a few of the bars before walking back to our hotel along the beach and waterfront. Our two lost friends had returned; no, not the spies, but laughter and smiles. A good meal and a bottle of wine boosted the Old Gits morale and resolve. A healthy discussion on the finances resulted in a few changes which, on reflection, may even enhance the OGGY experience... Some appropriate cost cutting, without killing the ‘spirit’ of OGGY, would accompany MOG having to find a job when we tour and stay in Italy for the summer. (Why just MOG?). We were real Gap Year travellers now...

FOG settling in to Bequia life.

We met many people in the first few days mainly due to the relaxed atmosphere and almost a comradeship between all inhabitants, local or otherwise. Only the larger groups of Americans remained aloof as did the ‘locals’ from St.Vincent. Bequia is a small island and it was surprising how you kept bumping into the same people, normally in the bars. We did experience a small problem in where we were going to stay. The charter boat idea had now totally faded and a lot of apartments were booked over the Easter period. Eating out all the time was starting to become expensive and a little tiring, the service locally is slow to say the least, but eventually we found an apartment in the Gingerbread Hotel with a well equipped kitchen...right on the water front. With our accommodation assured we then booked a day’s sub-aqua diving. Dive Bequia were virtually next door to the hotel and ensconced there was the irresistible Charlie. Although Charlie is over 40 years old he still has quite childish tendencies..., one of them is stealing your pen while you fill in the dive forms...

Charlie... enough said














The two Old Gits however didn’t do themselves justice. Both hyperventilated on the surface before the dive started only to realise the ‘STAB’ jackets were so tight neither of us could breathe! However the two dives were great fun with beautiful coral of all types and a multitude of fish, crustaceans and turtles. Oh, for an underwater camera...!

MOG scrabbles up, and FOG looking more composed

Our second excursion was to rent a car and see the island...which only took a morning! MOG was determined to have his ride in a Mini Moke; his wish was granted..., but in PINK! I had forgotten how bad the old Morris gears had been..., it was akin to stirring porridge!

MOG & Moke...Checking the engine: The 35 year old Morris 850cc engine was true to form and broke down!















The ‘locals’ here are very friendly and we bumped into two brothers, John & David with their wives and some of the brood. John & his wife Jenny live on the island and took pity on us having to eat in restaurants every night(!); we were invited to dinner . When they saw our Mini Moke they insisted on picking us up and thank heavens they did. The house was perched high up on the hillside, with an impressive view of the bay and the drive up would have challenged even the most hardy of 4*4...the Pink mobile would have ended up down a ravine! It was so nice to chat around a dinner table and MOG made a pig of himself with the excellent home cooking. (Yes, I forget my camera again, but not quite the thing to do snapping away in someone’s home!) They had designed themselves and had the main wooden house pre-built in Brazil. All went well as the two containers were offloaded and the wood man-handled up the mountain side, until they discovered the instructions were all in Portuguese!

Typical sunset in Bequia




















Over the Easter weekend the amount of boats increased quite startlingly and the buzz of the place was electric...so were the occasional free sponsored bars...hurray for Heineken & Mount Gay Rum.









Frangipani’s beach bar on race night...!













FOG became embroiled in an argument (discussion she says) between a local and the Irish barman..., but it all ended happily!

Eye ball to eyeball...but FOG to the rescue and all ‘friends’













The sunsets in Bequia did have that quality that would sooth any troubled brow...

Off to see the rest of the Grenadines...as I keep saying: life’s a bitch!










Girls relax in the clear blue Caribbean sea...














The facts blog has been updated to include Dominica:

http://www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com/

Disappointment and a sting of financial reality. Time to bail out...?

We decided to leave Dominica three days early as in our original itinerary it would have meant arriving in Bequia on a Sunday; not advisable as everything is closed! We also had intentions of trying to broker a deal on a bareboat yacht charter; most of the companies were based in St.Vincent, so this was our first port of call.

We say a sad farewell to Jose, the manager of Harmony Villa












(More details coming on: www.oldgitsgapyear@blogspot.com )

I had hoped for some funny stories to tell about LIAT, the West Indian airways, which has a reputation of really knowing how to foul things up... Well, so far they have been on the ball, dead on time and managed not to lose our bags...BA take note!

We arrived at St.Vincent and we both immediately felt uneasy; nothing specific just a bad feeling about the place. We only saw a small fraction of the island during our short stay but what we did see of it, and some of its people, meant we would not be returning in a hurry. We did also receive some rather stark financial news on our arrival; which may have coloured our opinion. The taxi ripped us off for the five minute ride to a rather tired looking hotel, which lay on Indian Bay. (I’ve not mentioned it by name, yet!) The service matched the decor...minimalistic. The pool was so ‘long’ if you stretched out you touched both ends and the sea was clear but the beach had an ‘unpleasant odour’...of rotting fish. Opposite, proudly sat the very exclusive Young Island, if only the budget would allow us...

Indian Bay & the 'exclusive' Young Island





Our first priority was to establish if we could charter a yacht. A local company ‘Barefoot’ had been recommended and close to them were Sunsail. Despite a long walk to both establishments, follow up calls and e-mails, we never received any reply. The manager of Barefoot was as elusive as a ‘British Bobby’ on the beat. We had been told that boats were available, but could we obtain a quote..., they must have viewed the old gits as incapable...wrong mate, we’re English and have sea water cascading through our veins!

MOG gazes enviously at some of the yachts; a means to get away from St.Vincent?












Our only experience of our hotel's cuisine was lunch on the first day. We asked for a snack and we were told the only dish available was Samosas at a price that would be more appropriate in a top London hotel. The six overcooked triangles arrived just as the only other residents were shown the menu of fresh fish salads etc, at roughly the same price! Disappointed, we finally tracked down a small shop and bought bread, ham and processed cheese. Frustration mounted as we tried to link to the hotel’s Wi-Fi ... When we did finally connect to the internet we were presented with our 2009 1st quarter’s financial statement. We knew it was not going to make pleasant reading but..., for those of us who have saved and tried to be prudent, it still came as a shock how badly our income had fared. Thank you Gordon Brown for ensuring that those of us, who have put some cash away, not only live in fear of our savings disappearing into a bankruptcy black hole, but we now see little return.

Furthermore those who have tried to invest in the stock market we see that due to the banks’ unregulated greed, encouraged by the Government, our portfolio is now a shadow of its former self... I am glad any pension statements are still laying un-opened back in the UK; we dread to think what state they are in. A silence envelopes the Old Gits as the financial implications sink in. We sat in our room chewing on tough ham and stale bread when the inevitable happened... a row ensued. We eventually retired to the thumping beat of the $1 taxis screeching round bends on the road just above us. The warm cloak of the Caribbean evaporated replaced by the more familiar ‘fret and worry’.

We awoke tired; the thick atmosphere of tension still surrounding us. So what do we do? We take one of the music thumping $1 taxis to Kingstown. It was a strange decision but brought the Old Gits rapidly closer together again. If we had been in Dominica or St.Kitts when we entered the taxi, there would have been smiles and some banter, naturally about cricket. (Well we did finally win the one day series...well done lads!). The suspicious sideways glances and lack of communication from the locals was to say the least, a little intimidating. Kingstown was another disappointment. However what was more worrying was to experience, for the first time in the Caribbean, ‘the stare’; the head remains still but the eyes follow you menacingly: you don’t actually know what people are thinking, but we had a b****y good idea..., I don’t think it involved a friendly chat and cold beer... come back St.Kitts, Nevis and Dominica...

Kingstown market









So then what do we do next? We return in another $1 taxi...well money is tight... (Things are that bad MOG is contemplating becoming ‘T’ total...hey, now that’s a saving!) The music was so loud FOG had her fingers in her ears and MOG was experiencing palpitations. In our travels the driving in Naples had to be the worst we’d seen until, that is, we visited Beijing... well now we have a new champion. The eleven seater ‘taxi’ had 21occupants and the driver clearly thought he was in the F1 at Monte Carlo. He would even have made the ‘nerves of steel’ Lewis Hamilton shake in his boots...

Vibrating out of the taxi we clutched to each other muttering a prayer of thanks for our ‘safe’ return and even our hotel seemed welcoming. Another night of stale bread and dry cheese was accompanied by a ‘discussion’ on whether we have to admit defeat and head for home. Plan A to charter a boat, at an advantageous rate, had back fired and we now faced the prospect of having to use hotels for the next 3 weeks. We assumed that Bequia, highly recommended by many, would be even more expensive; costs could escalate out of control... another fretful night’s sleep.

The next morning the stony faced Old Gits sat quietly at the breakfast table contemplating our options. Has the long cold tentacles of the credit crunch finally wrapped themselves around the windpipes of the Old Gits?

Is OGGY doomed...?

The daring, intrepid travellers encounter waterfalls and fairies...

After our week on Nevis we returned to St.Kitts for a couple of nights, back at Rock Haven, and then took the early morning flight to Dominica via Antigua and Guadeloupe. (We actually didn’t land at Guadeloupe; no-one pressed the stop bell!). The view over our recent host islands highlighted their volcanic origin, especially Nevis...and as a true professional (!) didn’t have my camera with me, when will I learn. Male Old Git (MOG) took stock of the people we had met, the great food and the fact that tourism hasn’t really taken hold as yet..., may it remain that way.

Marriott & beach: future tourism?




A more typical view – Windward Beach (Below)














The places we stayed are interesting and value for money but you have to accept the Caribbean, like the pistes in the Alps, demands a premium. We met several Brits living out here and the consensus of opinion is you have to keep interests back in the UK or you’d ‘crack-up’; ending up where the ‘live music night’ is the highlight of the week!

I am now known as “one shoe Philip”. I had just ‘broken in’ a new pair of Timberland boat shoes and stupidly left them out side with the old pair. Next morning one of the ‘new’ pair was missing (The dog wasn’t totally stupid!), and despite vigorous attempts to locate it I now only have the old, sad looking pair...if anyone is going to Mo-Zi-Mo’s in Chester could you reserve me a size 9 ½ ..., dark brown please! I had to take off the said old shoes at the airport for security and pleaded that they didn’t lose them, sending all the security staff into fits of laughter when I told them my predicament...I am finally getting into Carib mode!

I’ll admit that we have had a little wobble again when we realised we still have 440 days left of travelling to do; living out of a suitcase..., yes I can hear the comments now...”He’s not actually whinging about it, is he?” OK, I’ll shut up!

Then we arrived in Dominica..., well, where do I start? It has taken us a couple of days to ‘adjust’; this is no ordinary Caribbean island. The landing was fantastic; that is if you’re not a nervous passenger. The runway is short and runs out to the sea at one end and has tall mountains at the other. The plane literally skims the tops of the tree canopy and dives down to the runway whereupon breaks, anchor and anything else available is applied; or it’s an early swim... Dominica is abundantly lush and, fighting against the ever encroaching rain forest, nestles pockets of banana plantations, fruit trees and coconut groves, in profusion.

Jeep and Banana plantation














The scenery however is simply stunning:













The old bone rattler of a Suzuki Jeep we hired has seen better days but an absolute must for the roads, or more accurately, tracks. The drive to our villa did make us both gulp a few times. We took the wrong turning down into a small fishing village where people, mainly male, of all ages just sat staring at us. Our obvious tourist ‘look’ made us especially open to curiosity and initially we found it quite intimidating. Once again after a couple of days you realise they are fervently more willing to help than do any harm, but usual caution is advised, you never really know. It is possibly the poorest country we have visited and some of the ‘shanty’ type homes make you really appreciate our own living standards.

However once again we saw nothing but smiles and heard laughter everywhere. On Saturday we noticed many people in the rivers (there are 365 on Dominica) washing their clothes; not just one or two but large groups, joviality and ‘horse-play’ abounded. I would have loved to stop and take a picture but we had been cautioned that such actions can be demeaning and to tread very carefully. I suspect that, like in parts of southern Italy where this practise still goes on, it may also be a social occasion. We have become quite insular in the UK and such sights pose the question that more communal activity could bring us closer together. I am not sure I’d want anyone to see my undies...well at least I won’t be washing my long-john thermals! (See Post 28th January!).



We rounded one corner to be faced with a fast moving pick-up truck almost pushing us off the road, waving an old rag vigorously. We stopped and he pulled up beside us, shouting a warning which neither of us could understand. Bemused we nodded politely and agreed to be careful, carriing on blissfully innocent only to be faced at the next bend with a huge wide tanker hurtling at break-neck speed directly towards us. I had been struggling with the Suzuki’s gears until this moment...well, I had it in reverse and manoeuvred off the road faster than you could say “Be garn, mon...”

Talking of languages once again English has been used as the base language here, as well as French, and meanings have changed, occasionally causing some misunderstanding. I was filling the car with fuel and when the young attractive attendant arrived, it wasn’t self-service but we have learnt if you want it done, do it yourself. I said to her as I finished off filling the jeep up, “She’s nearly there; I’ll just squeeze a little more in her...” “What’d you say?” demanded the girl, angrily. I was confused and re-iterated that it was almost full. She smiled and laughed realising I was some crazy Englishman so heaven only knows what she thought I had meant; I’m not sure I want to find out. FOG, on another occasion, also had asked at a hotel whether any of their rooms were free. “No, you have to pay...!” came a confused rely.

Harmony Villa
















We are staying at Harmony Villa right in the heart of the island, up in the mountains carpeted in rainforest. We are lucky to be the only guests here and we can relax and unwind. As usual the manageress and the housekeeper are very welcoming and helpful. We needed food but the road to Roseau was closed for road works and meant a very long detour. “Not a problem,” the manageress said, and told us to follow her and her husband; they were local residents and were allowed through. All I can say is I am glad we had four wheel drive and were following the locals, FOG kept her eyes tightly closed, I wish I could have; we returned by ourselves the long way! Intrepid? Daring? I’m not so sure...

We have looked at many other hotels, lodges etc, mainly for the blog:

http://www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com/

Most are very quiet (meaning nobody around!); some are almost like ghost towns. We certainly can’t claim to have seen all and we did stumble on Beau Rive, half way up the West coast which was delightful; so far it is the only place that matches up to Harmony. We pulled into an ECO village where upon FOG insisted we drive to the centre...not exactly ECO friendly! We expected to see a grey pony-tailed, Jesus wellied, khaki short wearing ageing hippy to greet us. We were disappointed to be confronted with yet another ghost town...; the credit crunch is reaching everywhere.


FOG in Sun silk advert...., so what happened to the hair! (oophs maybe this is an ageing hippy, clout around the ear holes coming!)





We toured the island in typical OGGY gusto and after 3 days had covered every road, so maybe nine days on Dominica is, for us, a fraction too long, but sod’s law all flights out of Dominica are fully booked...hope there isn’t a hurricane coming...

We then ventured out to explore one of the famous Dominican waterfalls on our own. We didn’t need a guide..., yes, right again, we should have taken a guide. Not only did we venture out alone but we chose one of the hardest to get to. Sari-Sari falls are on the South East corner of the island and as we were becoming adept and more at ease driving on the narrow roads we breezed there without a care in the world.


The guide map said it was only 30 minutes to the falls but it would be rough and strongly recommended a guide. We only read this last sentence after half an hour into the trek..! Fortunately we stumbled on a small camp where two men were preparing some lunch in a large metal pot...it smelt good, but there are limits even MOG wouldn’t ask for!.



Al fresco Dominican style: The ‘pinny’ doesn’t do a lot for him!





They helped us over the river and bestowed fresh grapefruit juice upon the weary travellers, plus allowed us to take a photo of him.






FOG with rope...





On reaching the falls, rounding the last bend in the river, one gasps at the spectacle; it is a heart stopping moment. MOG stripped off (another heart stopping event, but for the wrong reasons!), and tried to reach the pool underneath it but was forced back by steep, slippery rocks and squadrons of mosquitoes. The water was exquisitely cool and so pure it seemed to cleanse the soul as well as the body.


Sari-Sari waterfalls and MOG





















We then moved onto the Emerald Pool, a lot more ‘touristy’ but it did allow MOG to shower under a real waterfall...and it hurt!



















MOG & Waterfall












One aspect of Harmony Villa is the abundance of wild life. We have parrots cawing in the morning and dusk; frogs that make a din all night (!); bats that hunt in the house at dusk; the veranda ‘rat’ (well, we think it is) and our guard dog who is a real cutie..., he doesn’t frighten me or I suspect anybody else! Make no mistake we are ‘lovin it’... I will finish with a magic moment we experienced here. Naturally it rains a lot in the ‘rain’ forest but the other night it was still and not a cloud in the sky. I have not seen such a canopy of stars for many a year but the highlight were the fireflies darting around like fairy spirits...; yep, the rum is good in Dominica!

I’ll sign off now as the bats have started to ‘chatter’ above my head which must mean it’s nearing cold beer time.


(Once again, apologies for the quality of the photos. They will be properly edited etc when we return and I have my photo-software available)







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