Early Sunday morning, the typical middle-of-the-night tropical shower struck, with unusual ferocity, killing the electricity. Sailors know all about these storms; they precipitate the infamous 2 a.m. "Hatch Drill." This morning had me up before the sun to take a few photos from the deck and take some water and Tylenol to kill my..er ..sinus headache. My dad joined me on our deck for a while as I wrote in my journal in my pajamas. Soon, we pulled ourselves together, climbed up the steep hillside to the hotel's breezy terrace restaurant, with its stunning vistas of the bay, for breakfast. We joined my parents, who were already seated, at a table, and had fruit, banana bread, and guava jam, all locally produced.
I had arranged a private tour of Grenada with Caribbean Horizons ($45/person), and our guide Donnery (sp?) and driver Denny met us promptly at 9 a.m. in their Mercedes Benz minivan. Both were crisply and professionally attired and clearly knew their island and liked their work. Donnery provided an excellent running commentary in her musical lilt throughout the day. Her grasp of Grenada's history, geography and botany was awesome. As it was Sunday, and most establishments were closed for business, our tour would focus on nature.
Annandale Falls
Driving past the famed Grand Anse beach and through the town of St. George, our first stop was Annandale Falls, where we caught the only rain shower of the day. Annandale is a fairly short cascade, splashing over rocks and through a fern-covered canyon. For a "donation," either Super Fabulous or Super Splash the two "superheroes" designated by the tourist board for this job would dive into the pool in their capes for a photo opportunity. Near the turn-off for the falls, ladies in colorful native attire carrying fruit baskets atop their heads also posed for pictures, while the guitar-toting singer we had encountered at the Flamboyant Hotel during our first Grenadian trip serenaded us with made-up-on-the-spot songs.
My dad inspired in the singer a comparison to Don Ameche, and Jim looked to him like Mickey Rooney (frankly, I could see neither resemblance!). We paid $1 for freshly cut coconuts (to drink the coconut water) and went on our way.
Onward to Grand Etang, the volcanic crater lake the depths of which have yet to be charted, for a photo opportunity. After the previous night's downpour and the resultant mud (which is ankle-deep under the best of circumstances), hiking around the lake was out of the question. We continued through the mountains and through the town of Grenville. Along the way, Donnery pointed out plants and picked samples of nutmeg and cocoa, while explaining the processing and uses of each crop. Then we stopped at Bathways Beach, on the northern end of the Atlantic coast of Grenada.
Donnery explained to us how the local Grenadians go to the Atlantic beaches (as opposed to the Caribbean ones which they leave for whom she kindly called "guests") on Sundays with their families and friends for a feast of food, music and fun. Seeing this beach convinced me that the locals made the right choice. It's a generous crescent of sand stretching for about half a mile, ending at its northern end near a peak named Sugarloaf. A few yards offshore, paralleling the beach, lies an exposed reef which breaks up the incoming Atlantic surf, but believe me, it only "calms" the waves a little. The reef makes a shallow, sandy wave pool for swimming. The water was warm and tempting, but knowing that lunch was our next stop, I didn't dive all the way in.
View of La Sagesse beach from restaurant.
On we drove to La Sagesse, another gorgeous dark sand bay edged with hundreds of coconut palms. La Sagesse's restaurant was perched on a covered deck just feet away from the water. Lunch was grilled swordfish (Jim chose chicken), peas-n-rice, and coleslaw, accompanied by Carib or locally-brewed Guinness. After lunch, we could hardly resist the water. Greenish blue, the water at the beach has a sandy bottom and delicious body-surfing waves. I caught a few great rides (as well as one which flipped me heels-over-head), then Rick and I walked the
length of the beach, including exploration of the freshwater river emptying into the ocean, and we greeted the islanders we passed, who were enjoying after-church Sunday.
By about 4 p.m., it was time to return to Secret Harbour, all the way enjoying Donnery's expert commentary, Denny's entertaining asides, and spectacular views of this most beautiful of the Caribbees. We thanked our guide and driver, and Rick and I dove into the pool (perched over Mt. Hartman Bay) before heading to the Moorings' Squall Bar at the marina for happy hour. Both sets of parents came by for a while, and then Rick and I showered before dinner, which I had booked at the Boatyard in Prickly Bay. There, we sat overlooking the marina, dining on callaloo soup and barbecue, washed down with another favorite island brew, St. Lucia's Piton, as well as Carib and Guinness. All the while, cats wound their way between my legs and mosquitoes feasted on me (as they did all night).
After dinner, Rick and I returned to our room, where we promptly fell asleep, lulled by the sounds of the tree frogs and the gentle lap of water beneath our deck. It was an unusually calm night for this windward side of the island. Except for the whine of mosquitoes in my ear, I slept well.
