After our morning in Bequia, we sailed south to Mustique, the private-island enclave of the rich and famous. We anchored in Brittania Bay and took the dinghy over to Basil's Bar, perched over the bay on stilts. Supposedly, during the evening hours, this would be the place to spot the likes of Mick Jagger, David Bowie, and Princess Margaret. But midday, we could only count on a stiff drink from the long menu of novelty concoctions and shopping in the boutique. We found, at surprisingly good prices, a fantastic Balinese batik which we will mount and hang in our new home, as well as some oversized t-shirts that can double as cover-ups. A swim in the clear waters of the bay completed our visit.
Basil's Bar, on Mustique's Brittania Bay, is one of the most famous watering holes in the world.
Onward to Mayreau, home of Saltwhistle Bay, whose lovely beach has been calling me from magazine pictures for years. Although the anchorage is crowded with sailboats, the beach here does not disappoint. Creamy sand, clear water, rustling palms; the very stuff Caribbean dreams are made of. On this breezy afternoon, Rick and I go ashore to explore the beach and get an eyeful of its twin, the windward Saline Bay just across a rocky spine. We swam, I spotted the green flash, and then Jerry came to pick us up in the dinghy after a fruitless search for a part for the boat's freezer. For dinner, Jerry and Viv served up some of the fish we'd caught en route from St. Lucia to St. Vincent.
Tuesday morning, we hiked up Mayreau's highest hill to reach the village where all 250 of the island's souls live. We climbed up a rocky dirt path (which residents have no trouble traversing barefoot), observing donkeys drinking from stagnant ponds along the way, and passing a church and a
small cemetery. From the peak, we enjoyed spectacular views of Union Island and the Tobago Cays, as well as a large cruise ship making its way (we hope) to points MUCH further south.
A view of Saltwhistle Bay from the highest point on Mayreau.
The Caribbean Sea, as viewed from atop Mayreau.
Having exhausted all of Mayreau's offerings, we sail on to the Tobago Cays, another island group I've been longing to visit. The aerial photos show a grouping of islets enclosed by a protecting reef, with blinding white pocket beaches and lush green hills, all surrounding a pristine blue lagoon. While the photos are not far off the mark, what I didn't expect was how many boats would be anchored here (at least 4 dozen), and how many daytrippers would be visiting from neighboring islands, especially since these islands are uninhabited and offer nothing in the way of services or man-made diversions. I had been expecting seclusion and was somewhat disappointed.
A century plant crowns the peak of Baradel, one of the Tobago Cays.
Views of the other Tobago Cays from atop Baradel.
Of course, the natural diversions are what attract so many visitors to the Cays. We spent part of the afternoon on one of the islands, Baradel, with its tiny beach. We climbed to the top of one of the hills and looked over the sea, sharing the vista with a lone century plant. Napping on the beach under a coconut palm was also a singular pleasure. Later, Rick snorkeled the reef with Jerry and Dieter, the reef being the principal attraction.
After we returned to My Baby II for the afternoon, we were visited by the one-and-only Monsieur Paul (Paul Arnault, of the catamaran Boreal). Paul and his wife Celine and two daughters spend half the year living aboard their boat and selling their unique island fashions. The rest of the year,
while in France, they design their own fabrics, have them made up into island-style clothing and accessories. Paul came aboard and, with his French-accented rapid-fire English, provided a fashion show and sales pitch. We could hardly resist, so Rick bought a shirt, I a sarong, and Jerry swim trucks. Later, Jerry dinked over to Boreal to trade some of our fish for some bread. Tonight, Viv prepared a West Indian dinner of pumpkin soup, grilled pork, and native vegetables, and we spend the night in the Cays.
