05.31.07
Guest Blog
I’ve asked Dickie’s permission to post the following about of a trip he took to the Tobago Cays. He originally posted this over a year ago on tripadvisor.com and I always thought it was a wonderful description of his experience, one that many of us have shared. I think everyone reading this will agree this is beautiful, whether you’ve visited the Cays before or not. I’ll add some of his photos later. In the meantime, enjoy Dickie’s word-picture that he has lovingly painted…
My defining travel moment was on a holiday to Saint Vincent and the
Grenadines. My wife and I stayed on Bequia and took a day-sail trip to
Tobago Cays. The Cays consist of a group of four small islands surrounded by
a horseshoe reef that protects it from the sea. They are located near the southernmost part of the Grenadine islands, midway between St Vincent
and Grenada. We sailed from Bequia early one beautiful, sunny morning
accompanied by a number of other day-sailors.
The 60 ft. catamaran was captained by an ex-marine who had upped and left Florida for the Grenadines some years earlier. The crew consisted of two Vincentians, Shorty and Maria. On the outward journey Maria served her own home-baked banana bread which was delicious and accompanied by coffee and juices - a great way to start the trip. During parts of the journey on the open sea
dolphins and flying fish at alternating times swam along with the boat. I thought, “This is as good as it gets.” How wrong I was.
On our entrance to the Cays, we sailed past uninhabited atolls of sand and
swaying palm trees. We were astounded by the beauty and tranquillity of this
tiny dot of heaven on that place we take for granted called Planet Earth. We
approached the mooring buoy (it is illegal to weigh anchor and damage the coral below). Before any of the guests were allowed in the water, the captain gave us very strict instructions on the do’s and don’ts of entering the sub-marine world we were soon to experience: “Do not take anything from the sea floor,” “Do not handle the coral,” “Swim with a T-shirt on,” (strange order I thought at the time), etc. After the talk I took time to have a cigarette before swimming, looking around at the stunning beauty with cotton-wool clouds in the sky and the slight breeze creating the slightest ripple over the mill pond that was the Caribbean Sea, it struck me what a disgusting habit smoking really was. I did not dare pollute the idyllic surroundings and extinguished it in a beaker of water on board.
Now it was time to get wet. I looked over the side and could see the fine
coral sand beneath the pristine water; the sand acted as a projection screen
for the sun’s rays to create rippling patterns through the water. I was
however very surprised, as I vaulted over the side feet-first (thank
goodness), to find the sea was chest high. I stood there for a moment,
looking around, and thought, “I’m in the middle of the Caribbean Sea with no
mass of land in sight and the water is chest high!” On with the goggles,
flippers and snorkel. Now, coming from the UK with its rather colder
off-shore water temperatures, I am not accustomed to snorkeling, but in the
warm Caribbean water I took to it like the proverbial duck to water!
Floating away from the boat I entered a world I had never imagined
existed, certainly nothing like the world I inhabited, that of deadlines,
rush-hour traffic, financial pressures and alarm clocks. No National
Geographic or Planet Earth documentary can EVER prepare you for this. Coral, both hard and soft, was lit up by the sun gleaming through crystal water. The soft coral swayed rhythmically with the gentle current; all around fish of every
shape and size passed me, swimming through the coral, fish I could never in a
million years name. The colours were amazing – startling blues, crimson
reds, bright oranges, dazzling greens and stunning yellows greeted my every
glance. It was astounding and truly beautiful. I was overcome by the whole experience that was so good I started laughing with delight. (A bit tricky with
a snorkel attached to your mouth!) I was lost in another world where time
meant nothing. Unfortunately, after I don’t know how long, my preconditioned instincts kicked in. How long had I been away? I looked up to see I had drifted a considerable distance from the catamaran. Most of the guests were already back on board.
I reluctantly returned to the real world and joined my wife and fellow
passengers for our return journey. My wife asked what it had been like (she
doesn’t swim very well), and I actually, and rather embarrassingly (the
British Stiff Upper Lip, you understand), got a bit choked trying to describe
my experience, and was sad that she had not been with me to witness what I had. Whilst the return journey was as pretty as it was on our outward trip, it now paled in comparison to what I had experienced in the coral world.
The advice the captain had given proved invaluable. You know the song about Mad Dogs and Englishmen… Well, for good reason. Coming from the climate I enjoy (!?) Brits don’t often see that strange yellow orb in the sky and, whilst on holiday, we have this irrational compulsion to expose our pale epidermis to ridiculous levels of radiation. I have, therefore, been addressed as Red Man when visiting St. Vincent! Whilst snorkeling you become so mesmerised by your surroundings that you forget the sun is very strong and constantly beating down on your back. So thanks for the T-shirt tip!
