The Caribbean in a nutshell

I've finally completed editing and updating posts about our 14-day cruise through the Caribbean. Follow the links below to relive this incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience.

In case you're curious, here's a link to a post I published about the cabin on our cruise ship, the Silver Shadow, along with a few details about the boat itself.

DATE	PORT	COUNTRY
10 Jan	Flight from New York to Sint Maarten
10 Jan	La Samanna, Philipsburg	Saint Martin
11 Jan	Philipsburg	Sint Maarten
12 Jan	St. John’s	Antigua & Barbuda
13 Jan	Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas	US Virgin Islands
14 Jan	Little Bay	Montserrat
15 Jan	Castries	St. Lucia
16 Jan	Port Elizabeth, Bequia	St Vincent & Grenadines
17 Jan	Les Saintes	Guadeloupe
18 Jan	Philipsburg	Sint Maarten
19 Jan	Cruz Bay, St John	US Virgin Islands
20 Jan	Gustavia	St. Barthelemy
21 Jan	Roseau	Dominica
22 Jan	St George’s	Grenada
23 Jan	Trois Ilets	Martinique
24 Jan	Kingstown	St Vincent & Grenadines
25 Jan	Bridgetown	Barbados
25 Jan	Flight from Barbados to London

You can also use the following links to relive other destinations we visited on our round-the-world ticket.

• NYE at Cooks Beach in New Zealand
• Reliving old memories in New York
• Overnight hell in Frankfurt
• Record snowfall in Nuremberg
• Doing London the way we used to
• Exploring Sentosa Island in Singapore

The tale of two hotels

Our recent trip to New York wasn’t all colourful sights and sounds. During our stay, two hotels unexpectedly made me pause for thought. Each reminded me how precious life is, and how important it is to live each day to the full.

On our first night in town, Garry and I took a short detour to walk past the Casablanca Hotel. Thirteen years ago, I stayed here with Mum and Dad during our whirlwind visit to the Big Apple. The hotel was less than 100 metres from Times Square, making it easier for Dad to take in its dazzling billboards and energetic vibe.

Our detour was well timed. The following day, we paused to remember the anniversary of Dad’s death. Dad loved New York and was delighted he got to tick it off his bucket list, barely three months before he died. Mum was also grateful for the experience. Although she'd have loved to visit a few of the city's museums if we'd had more time. It was sad to reflect that in the intervening years, Mum has also passed away.

On our final night in Manhattan, Garry and I walked past Hotel Edison on our way home from the theatre. I stayed here as an exchange student while on a High School Arts Club trip to New York City in 1983. As students, we attended the ballet at the Lincoln Centre, watched La Cage aux Folles at the Palace Theatre, toured the Met and MOMA, and visited the United Nations.

It was a cathartic moment standing there and reflecting on my life’s journey. The 18-year-old version of me had stood here with his whole life stretching out before him, wondering where life would take him. Now, 42 years later, the 60-year-old version of me was standing here looking back, wondering, “Have I used my time wisely? Would 18-year-old me be proud?”

It’s a humble experience to have a venue like this symbolically bookending my life’s journey. It’s also a timely reminder to make the most of my remaining years. I think I’ve done OK. If I have any doubt, reading through this blog tells a different story.

La Savane des Esclaves

Our Caribbean cruise is rapidly drawing to a close. We’re now into our final three days. It’s been an incredible experience, and the weather has been largely sunny and dry, with an occasional (and normally very brief) rain shower in two or three ports. 

Today’s cruise highlights come from sunny (and humid) Trois-Ilets on the island of Martinique. The island is part of the French West Indies (Antilles) and thus is another one of those French territorial collectivities. Martinique is renowned for the active volcano, Mount Pelée, its most dramatic feature. Pelée erupted in 1792, 1851, and twice in 1902. The eruption of 8 May 1902 destroyed the town of Saint-Pierre and killed 28,000 people in a matter of minutes.

Our ship dropped anchor in the bay opposite Fort-de-France, the capital of Martinique. Garry and I then joined a tour to an open-air museum called La Savane des Esclaves. I was keen to see it after reading about its unusual history. 

The attraction sits in the hills above Trois-Ilets, nestled within lush rainforest and features faithful reconstructions of traditional indigenous and Creole huts. These structures include woven cane walls (excellent cross ventilation in the tropical heat) and a roof often thatched with sugar cane leaves. Slaves on the island were typically housed in these structures for hundreds of years.

Various exhibits around the grounds provide an insight into the daily lives of two distinct populations: the pre-colonial indigenous people and the plantation slaves. We learned about their living arrangements, daily rituals and the impact of the island’s sugar cane industry. The grounds also included examples of local crops, spices and medicinal plants. 

Incredibly, the entire complex is the vision of one man, Gilbert Larose. It was a passion project that kept him busy for decades. He constructed the huts, carved life-sized wooden statues of slaves going about daily life, and landscaped the grounds for more than twenty years. It was a genuinely memorable venue.

Sadly, the guide managing our excursion was the worst we’ve had on the entire cruise. She did an appalling job of directing and controlling the group. More than once she wandered off without explanation leaving us wondering where she’d gone, how long she’d be and what to do us while she was missing in action. 

She then lead us around the grounds of La Savane des Esclaves in such a haphazard manner that Garry and I eventually gave up trying to follow her. With detailed and illustrated explanatory billboards posted everywhere, we decided we’d learn more if we simply peeled away and did our own thing. 

Finally, she inexplicably decided to direct two-thirds of group back to the tour bus half an hour before the agreed departure time. Garry and I followed suit, assuming we were leaving early. Instead, we were left sitting on the bus waiting for the others to return at the original departure time. With limited time in each port, sitting around for no good reason isn't how you want spend it.

Our tour bus dropped us back at Marina de La Pointe du Bout, a small boat harbour sheltered by a narrow headland. Garry and I decided to take a short walk around the local shopping precinct before catching a tender back to our ship. It was a fairly typical resort village with a neatly manicured town square surrounded by faux-colonial buildings. Interestingly, Trois-Ilets' one claim to fame is that it's the birthplace of Joséphine, Napoléon Bonaparte’s first wife. 

That’s country number 85 for me. I’ll clock up one more before we finally depart the Caribbean.

Red, green and gold

In October 1983, the Caribbean island of Grenada was invaded by the United States. This military action deposed a Marxist–Leninist government established four years earlier in a bloodless coup. The USA had become increasingly concerned about the nation’s close ties with Cuba, Nicaragua, and other communist bloc countries. Cold War tensions were rising at the time. Months earlier, Ronald Regan had publicly declared the Soviet Union an evil empire, and the Soviets had shot down a Korean airliner over the Sea of Japan.

The invasion marked the first time I recall ever hearing of Grenada. Yesterday, Garry and I visited this island nation as part of our Caribbean cruise. It proved to be another memorable and picturesque port. Our boat docked at St George’s, the nation’s capital, shortly before 9:00am. Once again, the forecast was for warm, humid, and sunny conditions, with a high of 26°C and a low of 25°C.

The island's surprisingly moderate climate gives rise to its reputation as the "Island of Spice. Stable tropical temperatures ensure the success of spice production, its primary export. Nutmeg is a key crop, followed by spices such as cocoa, mace, cloves, vanilla, cinnamon and ginger. Our cruise notes claim its the world's second-largest producer of nutmeg.

After breakfast, we joined a morning tour of the Clarke’s Court Distillery to learn the secrets of making great Caribbean rum. It was also our first formal visit to a Caribbean distillery. Interestingly, we learned that it no longer makes rum from locally grown sugar cane. Instead, the distillery imports molasses from other islands, mainly Barbados. We learned that most distilleries in the Caribbean now use imported rum. Apparently, in the absence of slave labour, sugar cane growing is an expensive exercise that generates relatively poor margins.

Our tour took us through the distillery’s old sugar cane mill. The equipment used for crushing cane and extracting its juice is still maintained in working condition. Once every few months, the ageing machinery is started, greased and left to run for a while. The crusher's massive cog wheels and rotating cylinders are certainly impressive (but weren’t in action during our visit).

Our tour guide then took us up a steep metal staircase to the distillery’s mezzanine level, where it still makes rum. Large, heated vats boil down molasses and prepare it for fermentation. Likewise, several impressive stainless steel distillation plants continue to extract the precious liquor from the fermented product.

As part of the tour, we indulged in a rum tasting experience. Our guide told us we could sample three rums from 16 different options. However, Garry and I ultimately sampled at least five each. Some were wonderfully smooth and dangerously easy to consume. Others had more heat and left their mark as they went down. I bought a bottle of Sorell-flavoured rum. Sorell is a native red flower that gives the liquor a cranberry-like flavour. Who doesn’t like Cranberry vodka?

Our morning tour finished with an excursion to Morne Rouge Beach, where we enjoyed another dip in the Caribbean, a few complimentary cold beers and some sunbathing. According to Google Maps, we were hosted by the Beach X-scape Bar, a simple, wooden pavilion set back from the beach itself. We then returned to the Silver Shadow for lunch, driving along the capital’s scenic waterfront and through the Sendall Tunnel linking its horseshoe-shaped inner harbour with a cruise terminal on the Caribbean coast.

According to Wikipedia, the harbour is an old volcanic crater. Our cruise notes describe Grenada's capital as literally rolling down the ancient crater's sloping hills to an attractive waterfront decorated by floral-hued buildings, Georgian architecture and idyllic terracotta roofs. It's a very apt description.

Sendall Tunnel is a bit of an eye-opener. It’s a historic 105-metre passageway built in 1894-1895. The tunnel is only wide enough for one-way traffic. However, pedestrians happily pass through it in either direction, dodging traffic by staying close to the side wall as they walk. It’s hair-raising stuff.

After lunch, I decided to return to St George’s for a walk along its picturesque waterfront. My sweaty route included a transit through Sendall Tunnel on the way into town and again upon returning to the boat. Grenada’s Independence Day will be celebrated on 7 February. As a result, the town is currently decked out in the colours of the national flag in preparation for the big day. A flurry of red, green and gold was displayed proudly everywhere I walked. 

I made a complete circuit of the inner harbour from Sendall Tunnel as far as Cooper Hill. I then climbed a steep, grass-covered stairway that took me up to Mitchell Lane, a quiet street which follows a ridgeline overlooking the harbour. I had hoped the elevation would give me some memorable views of the town below, Fort George (an imposing fortification on the opposite side of the harbour) and the surrounding Caribbean coast. I wasn't disappointed. The steamy climb was well worth the effort, as you'll see from the images above and below.

I followed the road back down to Roy St. John Field, a large sports field next to the local container port. Local schools were hosting a sports day on the field. Colourful crowds were cheering on the children, while a hyped-up commentator was delivering a rousing scoreboard update. I then returned to the boat, passing the local fishing fleet, colonial stone-clad buildings and other memorable landmarks.  Delighted to report that I ultimately clocked up 10,384 steps yesterday.

Grenada is the furthest south we’re venturing on this cruise. It’s definitely been one of my favourite islands so far. We've yet to visit three islands, so unless something exceptional crops up, I think it’ll remain a highlight.

St Barts

Today was another bucket list moment. For years, I’ve wanted to see aircraft landing at Gustaf III Airport on the island of Saint Barthélemy. The airport’s final approach for landing is nothing short of spectacular. Pilots must fly low over a hilltop traffic circle, then descend dramatically along the contour of the hillside before touching down on a short runway. There’s no margin for error as the 646-metre-long runway ends abruptly at a narrow sandy beach. Pilots require special certification to land here.

Our cruise ship dropped anchor shortly before 8:00am this morning. I decided months ago that we should do our own thing today. As a result, Garry and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before catching a tender into Gustavia, the capital of Saint Barthelemy. I timed our tender transfer so that we'd reach the airport lookout in time to see the largest scheduled aircraft arriving.

It took us about 15 minutes to walk from the port up to the island’s infamous hilltop traffic circle. A tour guide waiting on the roadside kindly directed us to a hidden lookout on the hillside. Within minutes of reaching the lookout, we were treated to the most extraordinary feat of flying I’ve ever seen. The experience was every bit as breathtaking as the photos and videos you see online. 

We watched a 19-seater Winair DHC-6 Twin Otter descend steeply towards our advantage point, swoop mere metres above the traffic below us, and fly dramatically down slope to nail a perfect landing. None of us who witnessed the spectacle could believe our eyes. The video I captured tells the story better than words ever could.

Garry and I spent an hour at the roundabout on Route D212 watching smaller aircraft come into land. We also watched them take off from the short, sloping runway and climb steeply to clear the beach beyond the threshold. We couldn’t get enough of it. That’s another tick on the bucket list. Now I want to experience landing here as a passenger!

Afterwards, Garry and I walked back down the hill to Gustavia to explore the town. Along the way, we stopped to check out the view from Gustavia Lighthouse. And what a view it was. Saint Barthélemy is renowned as a playground for the rich and famous. As a result, the harbour was filled with a fleet of shiny super yachts, while even larger, mega yachts were anchored offshore. Apparently, it costs thousands of dollars a day to moor along the wharf.

There’s absolutely no doubt that St Barts is for the rich and famous. The township was immaculate with beautifully finished buildings along a spotlessly clean waterfront. Flawlessly curated shop windows were touting all manner of designer goods, including Rolex watches, Hermes scarves and Burberry handbags. Gustavia couldn’t be more different to the cluttered and ramshackle streets we’ve witnessed on every other island so far. Unlike St Lucia last week, it lived up to its reputation.

We walked about two-thirds of the waterfront, but decided against visiting Fort Oscar on the opposite headland, or For Karl overlooking nearby Shell Beach. We also took a walk along the wharf to see the super yacht up close. The wealth and opulence on display everywhere we walked were simply mind-blowing. If you ever want to feel poor and destitute, just take a walk through the streets of Gustavia! We consoled ourselves back on our cruise ship with a little champagne and petit fours after lunch.  

The history of St Barts mirrors that of so many islands in the Caribbean. Christopher Columbus was the first European to discover it in 1493. He named it in honour of his younger brother, Bartolomeo. Sporadic visits continued for the next hundred years until formal colonisation began to take shape under the French. It subsequently became a Swedish colony after the French exchanged it for better trading rights elsewhere in 1784. 

The Swedes renamed St Barts largest town Gustavia, after the Swedish King Gustav III, and transformed the island into a free port. They did quite well out of it. France took notice and promptly repurchased it in 1877. Today, the island is an autonomous French territory, known formerly as a French Overseas Collectivity.

One final highlight from this morning's excursion. We encountered a tortoise on the sidewalk as we made our way to the airport lookout. This lonely creature was wandering along a footpath bordered on one side by a high concrete retaining wall and on the other by a concrete-curbed roadway. How on earth did it end up in such an unfriendly location?  When we walked back down the hill an hour later, it was nowhere to be seen.