Squeaking bats and passion cats.
We found St. Vincent kind of by accident. We had been running out of Grenada for a few years, and our captain Jason mentioned that we could try going all the way to St Vincent for week 1 and then returning to Grenada week 2. So we did that for 2 years. But we only got a small taste of St. Vincent, and we really liked what we saw: a relatively undeveloped coastline, a solid marina, welcoming locals, clear water, healthy reefs and marine life. So this year we are running 2 weeks only in St. Vincent.
Now that we are getting a closer look, we are seeing that St. Vincent is a true gem. I have no idea why this island hasn’t been overrun with tourists and their accompanying hotels, resorts, snorkel cruises, and cheesy restaurants. But I’m glad.
There are direct flights from NYC and Miami. Black sand beaches. Secluded bays. Waterfalls. The whole island smells like plumeria. There’s a real culture here. The people we meet have a positive outlook on life. Let’s keep it our little secret, ok?
This morning we swam around Chataubelair Islet, which we made a mental note about last year. The problem was neither Heather nor I could read the note. Did it say to try to circumnavigate it? Avoid the north side? The south? We just couldn’t remember. With our only guest being Tracy, and knowing that she’s not just strong but tough, we decided to try to swim around it.
I can’t think of a more perfect swim. There were caves to swim into. Some with bats. Huge barrel sea sponges, some clam shaped, others vase shaped. Lots of fish, dramatic drop-offs, secluded little coves with overhanging trees and vines hanging down to the water. We were totally alone, and completed the mile or so loop before climbing back onto the yacht.
Roasted pumpkin soup for lunch with just out of the oven rosemary focaccia, all made from scratch by Mal in her stylish Tangerine socks. Naps. Reading. I’m in the middle of a particularly good book, Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. Thank you alum Kathy for the recommendation.
We are beginning to understand that the entire leeward, or western facing side of St. Vincent is not just swimmable, but it’s all over the top stunning. We put this idea to the test for our afternoon swim, jumping in at Walliabou cove (where much of Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed) and swimming all the way to the bustling fishing village of Borrouallie. Along the way, more caves to explore, bats to squeak at us, and we met Nigel, a local fisherman who was swimming with his sons after a long day on the water. He greeted us warmly, introducing himself and shaking my hand, me in my Speedo and he in his underwear. Interesting career I’ve chosen.
On our approach to the fishing village, we came across a weir of sorts - a suspended pen where fishermen store their catch. Swirling fish both inside and outside the pen. - HP
We cruised the coast a bit more, scouting new jump in spots from the boat as we made our way to our anchorage.
Happy hour! And a new cocktail I conjured: The Passion Cat (as in catamaran)
2 oz rum
2 oz pineapple juice
The juice of one lime
The entire contents of one small passionfruit.
Shake and strain over ice.
Chef Mal prepared a proper Caribbean barbecue for dinner: grilled lobster tails and chicken, corn on the cob, macaroni salad. For dessert, some kind of creamy rosemary passionfruit yumminess.
Our yacht Dlokoko didn’t budge all night in our calm bay at Cumberland.
Hopper
