The 5 R's (4 January 2011)

Dominica is known as the island of 5Rs. And the first one is rain and we sure as damn it have had plenty of that.
We spent the day being shown Dominica by a local driver - Alfred, who did a great job in making sure that we didn't see one other tourist all day, no rare feat as there were apparently three cruise boats in harbour today vomiting a total of over 9,000 passengers ashore….

The rain here is never far away, from blue skies to monsoon in less than 30 seconds. Our first drenching was when we hiked to the Emerald Pool, deep in the Morne Trois Pitons National Park. The rainforest is beautiful, words cannot do justice to the abundance of growth, and the splendour of greens from across the colour spectrum with just glimpses of sky far above. So even if it stopped raining for real, drops from the tall trees continued to moisten us as we made our way. Looking like drowned rats we got to the Emerald Pool and its waterfall.

The rain cleared as we drove north west, hugging the coast road. The green towering volcanic cliffs of Dominica plunge straight down to the sea, leaving very little room for roads. The road was being built and funded by the Chinese, they are all over the Caribbean, building useful things like sports stadiums, roads and hospitals. In stark contracts the EU appear to be funding bandstand shaped bus stops and reconstructing 18th century forts. I know which one curries more favour with the locals.
The torrential rain inland resulted in hundreds of raging waterfalls crashing down the hills onto the roads.

Alfred, our driver with his rainforest umbrella

The second R is rivers and we saw plenty, large and small. We had asked Alfred to take us north to Portsmouth to the Indian River, where we could get a local boatman to row us upstream into the forest for an hour or so. Gill was none too happy to see that David the rasta (our boatman's) boat was a small leaky rowing boat. No sooner had we climbed inelegantly aboard, than the heavens opened yet again. So heavy that Gill's kagool just gave up on her, leaving her soaked to the skin. The fast current was against us as on and on David rowed, the overhanging branches now meeting overhead. Finally and unexpectedly we moored, or at least crashed into the bank and we stepped out onto a muddy slippery bank which Ant's haviana’s didn't like at all. We were led along the river bank and yes, you've guessed it - a local rum shack, much joy - the third R - rum!

Ant enjoying a dynamite local rum

Rastas abounded, iffy baccy galore, and we have some home brewed rum called dynamite. Gill, despite being soaked through even had the energy to buy a seed bracelet the likes of which have never graced Bond Street. All in all a fun half hour was spent here deep in the rainforest with these guys and the mozzies. The return journey in bright sunshine was nowhere near as much fun.

Our leaky rowboat up Indian River

David, our boatman

The local 18th century British, Fort Shirley at Cabrits got our attention for two minutes before lunch called. Unfortunately we were too late for some of the local lunch spots that we tried so embarrassingly we had to go to KFC, which Alfred reckons stands for Killing fucking customers!
Two more Rs I hear you ask, what must the be? Well rainbows of course, and we saw hundreds. We spent the afternoon in the Morne Diablotin Syndicate National Park. We journeyed on narrow single lane roads up to 700m, past small farms growing everything from oranges, grapefruits, nutmegs, sorrel, coconut, plantains, darsheen for callaloo, cocoa, mangoes, coffee, papaya and of course bananas. The soil and climate create such a bountiful harvest. All this was set against a backdrop of dramatic green, and mist clad mountains.


Somewhere over the rainbow....


At the park, we hiked with Alfred for an hour or so through the virgin rainforest and saw rainbow after rainbow, we had never seen them so complete or prolific before. We were introduced to various plants and trees, the most memorable of which was (and this is not the botanic name…..) the toilet paper plant…. The leaves are so soft, we understand they can be used for that purpose…. On balance we will stick to Andrex….The forest was amazing, great towering trees, vines hanging low, and as one friend said, me Tarzan, Gill Jane. We were even lucky enough to catch glimpses of the extremely colourful indigenous national bird the Jaco parrot. Only one danger to look out for, as the boa constrictors are not poisonous, wild boars. Nice….
We've had a lovely day, and now for the last R, sadly its romance an whilst we weren't looking to fall in love whilst here, maybe Dominica has stolen our hearts a little.

Rivers everywhere

Waking Up In Dingley dell (3 January 2011)

Apologies to Charles Dickens but when we woke up in the Papillotte Wilderness Retreat, high up in the rainforest at the head of the Roseau Valley, we thought we were in Dingley Dell. The whole place is owned and run by an an American lady who first started it off as a remote bar in the late 60's. It was completely destroyed in the hurricane of 1979 and she has lovingly restored (for that read, eccentrically restored.....) it into the charming place that it is today. Design touches are abundant, holes in the mozzie nets, mismatched furniture, slightly mouldy bathroom tiles, you get the drift? We had booked the Breadfruit Suite, a two bedroom suite at treetop level. Ok, it has two bedrooms, but sadly all that is missing is the wall between the two.... But it did have its own private pool. Yes, I know you are thinking, private pool, nice, blue..... This was indeed private but is a rather metallic red...... Built in stone it is actually fed by the hot sulphur springs so abundant on this island, so was wonderfully hot. The whole place is set in a fantasy garden, with the butterfly as the motif. Little paths wind through and you are surprised by more hot spring pools, peacocks, and vegetation almost too thick to walk through. There are little boughs and benches to rest on and fruit trees, flowers and painted walls. We are convinced we saw two fairies, but then we realised they were just the two blokes upstairs...... But we are in the rainforest and it rained, and rained and rained........ This also gives the place a dark, dripping, dank feel with that all pervading smell of damp that takes Gill straight back to damp, smelly pillows and sheets in Guatemala last year. But that’s what happens in the rainforest where it so far appears to rain continuously…. And they do get 340 inches of rain a year.

So what to do in the rain. Well it is now three days into 2011 and Ant is yet to have a shower, so his dip in yet another hot pool fed by a shower of hot spring water was quite welcome, to Gill at least. We were then directed down the hill to find another. Flip flops are not the easiest footwear to navigate a slippery slope but we made it to the sound of frogs and the sight of scuttling land crabs. And there was yet another hot pool where the water bubbling up from the earth's fissures was clear to be seen, rather like champagne bubbles. Next to it was a cool pool fed by the cascading waterfall above. Gill as usual wimped out, but Ant was doing his Adam impression and also being brave going from hot pool to cold with only a modicum of screeching..... Gill was the photographer. But the whole place really is amazing, just like losing yourself in the Garden of Eden. Pass me an apple quick ...... Ok the iPad will do.....
But we couldn't play Adam and Eve all day and it was still p*****g down so we had to repair to the restaurant for a spot of lunch and a rum punch.... After this of course Ant needed a nod.... But we stirred ourselves at 4pm to take the short walk to the Trafalgar Waterfalls, a must see site in Dominica. They were indeed impressive (as was the walk up a pretty steep but luckily short hill). Very impressive, but more impressive was Ant, starved of shops, who was moved to buy a bamboo recorder/flute type thing from the local one legged Rasta.... He still can't play it...

This is an eco resort, so the shower water is fed directly from the hot springs. Whilst we are sure (well at least Gill is, Ant hasn't bothered finding out.....) that the "eau de sulphur and metal" that stays on your skin after your shower is the local top fragrance, the red residue is not so good. Gill is now a "ginga" as her highlights have turned red....
And then to dinner. The food theme seems to be British food of the 50's, soup, salad some sort of meat with cold vegetables and a stodgy pudding..... But as you know, rum punches always help these things along. As does the diversion of low flying bats... But we are to be grateful for those apparently, they do something (either eat or scare) away the mosquitoes.... On balance though , I think we would prefer to brave a mozzie than a bat.....
But despite its oddities this really is a fabulous place. The surrounding scenery of a steep backdrop of rainforest, waterfalls, flowers and babbling streams, hot pools, cold pools are quite special. Dominica is shaping up to be our favourite island yet.

We Hereby Declare Martinique Closed (2 January 2011)

Top tip, never come to Martinique on a bank holiday Sunday. Firmly ferme.

Our 24 hours in Martinique was more of an excuse to get a pin than a serious visit, so we restricted our time to Fort de France. We stayed at Centre International de Sejours, a youth hostel in all but name and built in a new area of the town. Amazingly it could have been Calais. The cars, houses, street furniture were lifted straight from France which shouldn't have surprised us as this is France after all! The attitude wasn't French at all though, people were disarmingly friendly and helpful everywhere.

So what to do in Fort de France on a bank holiday Sunday? Not a lot. We took a cab to the port to try and dump our bags, but to no avail, there was no left luggage and we couldn't check them in, so we charmed the chap who ran the multi storey car park and he agreed to look after our bags for the afternoon. Now that wouldn't have happened in London or Paris.

Our walk involved dodging showers around a grid of pretty little streets, past the cathedral, the green square, the fort and museums, Galerries Lafayette and Esprit all firmly closed and then to add insult to injury a branch of Paul, with all its glorious bread and pastries - closed. We took refuge in a branch of Quick which was open! Not to be defeated, our trusted Lonely Planet led us to the best hotel in town L'Imperatrice. Salivating at the thought of a French lunch with no creole spices and no fried chicken, we were to be sorely disappointed. Not only did they not have any wine, they didn't have any food!! Back onto the street and we finally found lunch at a little cafe on the seafront and had a few kir royale’s (France has its benefits). It felt like out of season Hastings, it even had a pier, McDonalds and some barricaded amusement arcades.

Travelling light as usual

So our impression of Martinique is jaded, we only saw Fort de France, it rained and it was closed, so it would be unfair to judge.
Compared to St Lucia, the ferry port was like Terminal 5, slick and modern. It lulled Gill into a false sense of security though. Upon boarding, we were informed that the seas were rough, and yes they were. Gill holding on rather dramatically with both hands, kids throwing up, the hydrofoil crew handing out sick bags and tissues. The crossing took 1.5 hours. Which was too long for most.

Martinique on a Sunday, even Delifrance is closed

So here we are in Dominica, (no not the Dominican Republic Derek, thank you for asking). Arriving in the dark and rain, it reminded us of Belize City, but without the evil edge. We were befriended by a friendly cabbie called Hayden who brought us up here to the rainforest with attending tropical downpour in his battered van. At one point his lights popped out and then he crunched the front of his van into a dip in the road, he apologised saying he knew the dip was there but that he'd forgotten!

At Papillotte Wilderness Retreat the sounds of the rainforest were overwhelming, heavy rain and the deafening sound of running water. Our room had no windows only wooden shutters with no mesh, so Mrs G is applying lashings of anti mozzie stuff as we speak! She was pleased to read though that the mozzies are efficiently dealt with by low flying bats. Now she is looking for anti bat spray. Please send supplies immediately.

Wings, Pins and Automobiles (1 January 2011)

Day one of a new year and we were going to do three countries, gather three new pins between us and use five different modes of transport.

Trusty Alvin was ready and waiting to load us into the back of his pick-up at 945 for a quick spin to Bequia airport. Tiny airport but the queue of 10 before us took an age to check in, Check-in girl on extreme Caribbean time. So much so, that when it came to us we were rushed through as all the others were on a Barbados public flight, we were off to St. Lucia and the tiny SVG plane was waiting for us, having just landed from St. Vincent,
The plane was tiny, "it's a bloody elastic band job" said Gill, as we saw the minute yellow propeller job on the tarmac. There were already 4 people aboard, we had the two seats right behind the pilot. So exciting. Pilot programmed his tom-tom and away we go, with a warning about a bumpy take off, Gill went white!

Our elastic band job Bequia to St Lucia

Fab, sporty little take off, see video   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yu-ywVTkqy0&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL   and notice the pilot steady himself by touching the ceiling, Bequia looked beautiful from above, it had been a fun week and we sorry to leave. It was a 30 min flight, quite a bit of cloud and gill most perturbed that the pilot appeared to be scribbling a shopping list rather than looking where we were going, For a fair part of the journey, there was a rainbow below us and far off in the distance.

All too quickly the Pitons of St.Lucia came into view and the landing strip at Henowarra airport. This takes wide-bodied flights from Europe but the runway looked tiny. Gill had landed here on a BA flight many years back.

The six of us were the only ones at the airport and we were escorted through passports and customs in record time. New pin for Ant!!! So what next?

We had landed in the very south of St. Lucia and the ferry to Martinique left from Castries in the north. Bloody bank holiday, no buses to speak off, and we didn't even know if the ferry was running as the website in French was ambiguous to say the least. No choice but to get a taxi and head north which we duly did.

We are quickly coming to the conclusion that all of these islands look the same, green, tropical, bananas, ice cream coloured houses on stilts. the journey north was comfortable if uneventful and damage from recent hurricane Tomas appeared to be limited to some landslides along the road.

buying tickets at the ferry port in st Lucia

To our delight, there was movement at the ferry port and yes the ferry (l'express des iles) was running, but not for three hours, but hey, what's three hours between friends. We were starving by now and so walked into Castries to kill time and get food. We had seen someone with a Dominos pizza box, so we found a little child and asked him the way. With a cocky shout of "come" he lead us all the way there and appeared delighted with his tip. Nice kid, hope he does well.

By the time we got back to the ferry it was heaving with passengers, so we joined the melee and queued for ages for immigration and then a most ludicrous and time consuming bag search looking for explosives????? Why?? Jobsworths, it took forever.



Anyway, mode of transport four was a hydrofoil for the 70 minute jaunt to Martinique. Again, quite sporty, lots of spray, Gill is getting her seas legs but some way to go. It is great to be going island to island and seeing them up ahead as the old one fades away, really brings the map of the Lesser Antilles to life. So predictably Martinique soon appeared on the horizon. Its a much larger island than either of the ones we've been to so far, so Fort de France looked huge as we approached. New pins for both, hurrah,

on board the ferry

Chaos of course at the ferry terminal, so we just sat on the stairs and waited for the hubbub to subside. We are getting into the Caribbean vibe too.

Fort de France infrastructure much grander and European than anything we've seen to date, but we will explore tomorrow as its now dark.

The last of the transport modes was a taxi hailed on the street to bring us to our last minute desperate youth hostel on a new housing estate in the suburbs of Fort de France. Just checked an app and it turns out that in ten hours of travel we have covered 100 miles! Real caribbean time.

Finally, It is unfair to judge Martinique on what we've seen so far, we hope that there is gold at the end of today's rainbow.

Old Year's Eve (31 December 2010)

New Years' Eve's (called Old Year's Eve in Bequia) seem to be coming around increasingly quickly, seemingly much more frequently than summers. Neither of us are big New Year's Eve people but Bequia has a tradition of street partying and fireworks over Admiralty Bay so we just had to give it a go.

We'd got a table at the Frangipani restaurant on the Belmont walkway and it was jumping. Steaks, salad and rum punches kept us fuelled and whilst steel bands usually leave Ant wanting to stick needles in his eyes, this bunch were cool and kept going all night. The dancing was frequently interrupted by downpours and the swell made for some interesting waves.

Midnight fireworks were fun (see video) as were the red flares from the yachts. We then headed into town for a bit of a street bop. Friendly happy vibe but we were knackered and so we happily threw ourselves into Alvins pickup at 1am. Happy New Year everybody.
Firework video here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0a9mrGXiqU

Roddy and Maggie's Day Out (31 December 2010)

We had been looking at Mustique every day and hearing the bling rattling from our terrace in the villa, so decided today was the day to find out what all the excitement was about. Rather than take a mundane ferry (no way to arrive n Mustique sweetie…..) we take the Friendship Rose (http://www.friendshiprose.com/), an old Caribbean schooner built here in Friendship Bay. Gill was expecting (check out the website) a flash modern boat that looked like an old one, but sadly got just the old one…. But that’s not fair, it was a classic wooden schooner with billowing canvas sails. Alvin, our beck and call boy had collected us and dropped us off at the dockside. Gill had a real battle with her courage, could she bear to get onnthe thing bor should she wimp out? Luckily common sense prevailed and she tried to concentrate on the fact that these little things took tea and spices distances that far outweighed the leisurely two hour crossing to the millionaire island of Mustique. So we board the tender and clamber up the wooden ladder and on to be greeted by breakfast of freshly cooked croissant, orange juice and coffee. I bet the “king’s shilling” seamen never got that! But the breakfast was a lot fresher than the crew, ancient seafarers, but they did a good job, a young guy who couldn’t speak but worked the hardest of the lot and a girl who sat with her head covered in a towel seasick the whole way… The few other people on board were a mix of a couple of Brits and some Americans, one of whom was the skinniest person we have ever seen – taking size zero to a whole new level. Her body looked totally impossible, bones and skin, but she seemed very proud of it, flaunting away in her bikini....
And off we go. We start quite nicely (and you need to bear in mind, Gill is writing this one, not Ant….) We sail past the “Moonhole”, a weird area that was built some years ago from the rock as a resort – you can still stay there apparently, but no water, no electricity….
Then we turn the corner and the airstrip appears. So far so good, a little choppy but not too bad. And then we start to cross the open ocean bit on a port tack (Ant’s input here….) and the walls of water appear and here's the video to prove it  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUzXNRGazm0 .  Ant is happily looking out saying how nice the colours of the waves and the ocean are, Gill is hanging on for dear life thinking why the hell did she not wimp out at the dock…. Eyes tightly closed she just hopes to get through in one piece. Aeons later, (actually about 30 minutes), the waters start to calm down as we enter the leeward side of Mustique. Suddenly everything looks better, the sea is turquoise again and Basil’s Bar appears in the distance. Thank God, rum punches at last. So we moor in the sea admiring the FOF Yachts mainly from the UK – these hedge funders again, sleek, slick big yachts, bobbing about awaiting their owners’ pleasure.

Much needed champagne after a choppy crossing to Mustique

And then a very pleasant surprise, before we take the tender to get off to go ashore, we are presented with champagne and cheese and biscuits.. lovely. Set us up for what was to come. We have three hours or so to check out Mustique. First impressions aren’t good. It’s so manicured it’s like the Stepford Wives meets the Truman Show. A cutesy village of a couple of tiny and very expensive shops. A mooring office with a notice telling you it’s $500 a night to moor your yacht in the sea and a traffic jam of golf buggies. No one walks here – except us. We set out to see the Cotton House, the iconic Mustique hotel, which our toothless Friendship Rose captain had indicated was “just up the hill”.  Red faced with the heat we struggle on until some local guy in a buggy took pity on us and offered us a lift. We gratefully clamber up into the back and are taken to the hotel. It was weird, beautiful but felt like we were The Grove in Hertfordshire on a sunny July day. Real grass, mown in stripes…. We go to the bar which we think was the original hose, beautiful with polished wooden floors and sit on the verandah. In for a penny we thought and order two refined mojito’s, basically a mojito topped up with champagne. $55, yes $55 US dollars later, we paid the bill……

enjoying our $55US drinks at the Cotton House

But they we nice and this was Mustique after all with the history of Princess Margaret, Roddy Lewellyn and Lord Glenconnner (whom Gill met last time she was in St Lucia ) etc And of course (and this is Gill), they do a lovely loo at The Cotton House and that’s a real benefit when travelling. We were channeling PM all the time and Gill was very careful about the hot water in said loo. We were also channeling Wills and Kate who have visited here….. Just call us Lady Gill and Lord Ant…..

A pirate in the Caribbean

Getting over the shock of our drinks bill, we decide to go for it anyway and call a taxi to take us back to the dock to the world famous Basil’s Bar a great little bar perched over the sea in the tiny village. Rum punch was good…

Ant in the surf at Mustique with Basil's Bar in the background

And of course Ant had to stop at the on little boutique for a couple of purchases on the way, but he has been starved of shops.


So back to the Friendship Rose for lunch - and wine. Ant then went off for a while for a snorkel. We had been to Mustique, and glad that we had, but were strangely disappointed in what it offered. Now we like a posh place with the best of ‘em, but pretty as it was, it seemed unreal. Posh but unreal.

AntGill Beach (30 December 2010)

We liked Princess Margaret Beach so much that we decide to go back to spend the day. We drag our screaming calves and thigh muscles up and down the hills to get there and on arrival plonk ourselves on two sunbeds under the dappled shade of the trees. When we visited before it was a tranquil bay. But the wind has changed and there are some “surge tides” about so it had changed into more of a surfer’s beach….. But still fine for swimming, and as the water occasionally almost washed away your sunbed, as long as you got hold of your possessions it time, the odd soaking was quite refreshing….
We had both brought our books to read but it proved quite difficult to concentrate on reading. It was just so nice to gaze away at the myriad yachts in all sizes heaving about quite alarmingly in the waves, the people wandering by, we just have no idea where the time went. Of course there was a rum punch lunch in Jack’s Bar that took up quite a bit of time…..

And we had to psych ourselves up for the walk back up the steep path – but the good news it did seems a bit easier than a few days ago. As it is our favourite beach spot so far, and as it was renamed for Princess Margaret when she was around, we now think it should be renamed for us. Perhaps we should start a petition….. We think AntGill Beach has a certain ring to it….