Late December, 2009 - Unlike our more urban setting on Grenada, on the island of Carriacou
(pop. 5,000, 13 sq. miles), we stayed right on Paradise Beach, the prettiest beach on the
island. We fell out of bed into the water everyday and had a hard time pulling ourselves off the
beach to go sightseeing. For such an exquisite beach, dotted with beach bars and simple
accommodations for travelers, there was hardly anyone there. At any given time there were at
most 10 or 12 people on the whole mile-long beach, mostly locals. Finally reaching our fill of
beach time, we took a few long walks around the south end of the island. Like all of the
Grenadines, Carriacou is very hilly. One driveway was so steep that the owners built a
staircase in the middle of it.
We walked into the town of Hillsborough to get
groceries and change some money at the bank.
The sounds of goats bleating and roosters crowing
accompanied us all the way to town. Thick
bunches of pink flowers drew equally thick bunches
of hummingbirds to their nectar. The birds were
very dark and had small crests. We got a big kick
out of the many signs on the storefronts. The Hard
Wood Bar and Snacket had a most unusual logo,
which must have stood for "hard wood."
Another "bar and snacket" was licensed to
sell "spiritious" liquor. Other bars proudly
displayed their licenses to sell liquor and spirits as
well. One was licensed to sell "spiritual" liquor,
and another to sell "intoxicated" liquor. Whew!
There were wonderful murals and signs
with elaborate paintings as well. One
industrious soul had painted an enormous
building's wall with images of everything
sold inside, ranging from TV's to power
drills to computers to hammers and more.
The buses and many cars were
given names, and often offered
something of a statement of the
driver's philosophy of life.
The island is so small we saw
many of these minibuses over
and over in just a few hours of
walking. We recognized "The
Lord Reigns" as the bus that had
taken us to our apartment when we first got off the ferry. Inside it was
festooned with images of Barack Obama.
Even the boats are named, many operating as
water taxis.
We hadn't planned our grocery shopping very well, so we had
awoken to bare cupboards. By the time we got to town we
were starving. Our breakfast at an outdoor cafe overlooking
the Hillsborough bay and jetty was so good! A little group of
Caribbean Grackles watched us eating, their beady little yellow
eyes following the food from plate to mouth, waiting patiently
for scraps.
Out in the harbor a
schooner floated on
the horizon.
Once we got to the
store we took our
time checking out
all the items that
are unique to this
area. Grenada is
the number two
nutmeg producer in
the world, and they have found many uses for it besides a
powdered spice. We were amazed to see "Nutmeg Syrup"
alongside the honey.
The ferry had just arrived when we got to town, and boxes of
produce were being unloaded. Several makeshift fruit stands were
immediately set up near the ferry dock. They sold the familiar
imported apples from northern states, but they also sold a lot of
things I didn't recognize. A bin of red fruits the size of strawberries
turned out to be "Sorrel," the hips of hibiscus, which are ground and
then steeped in boiling water with sugar, cinnamon and other
spices to make a refreshing drink.
I haven't had a glass of sorrel juice yet, but I did
have a delicious glass of green golden apple juice.
Golden apples are the shape of a kiwi, but hard like
an apple, with a soft skin you peel off and a pit in the
center. Green ones are unripe but make a great
juice drink. A bin of breadfruit looked intriguing and
made me want to learn more about how of all these
exotic fruits are prepared and eaten.
Walking back, we passed thick bunches of bananas
in all stages of ripeness. When I sampled one I
could not believe the richness of the flavor. I have
never tasted a banana like that -- something gets
lost in the transcontinental journey.
A little further on we passed a palm tree with
wooden ladder steps nailed into it. This makes it
much easier to reach the coconuts! Even though
Carriacou is a desert island, unlike neighboring
Grenada, and has been experiencing a severe
drought in recent months, it seemed to us a very
lush tropical land.
On our walk to town we ended up taking the "long
route" by accident, coming up on a junction called
Six Roads and having to ask another walker
which road would take us to town. When we
checked the island map it was clear we had
walked way out of our way and covered a lot
more ground than necessary. A better route lay
along the shore. So we took that route back.
The road had
absolutely no cars on
it, and the only sound
was the wind in the
palms and the waves
on the sand. It was a
stunning strip of oceanfront land. This bit of ocean faces
the Caribbean Sea and it is unprotected open water, so
there was beautiful driftwood strewn along the shore.
Suddenly the road turned away from the sea, and we passed a
sign saying, "You are now leaving Carriacou." Huh? Then the
road dead-ended at a tiny airstrip. We poked our heads inside
the terminal office and three very official looking clerks stared at
us. They were dressed in pleated shirts and striped pants and
were carefully guarding the international border doorway and
customs inspection area that stood between us and them. We
were in shorts with sandy feet in thong sandals, our cameras
slung around our necks, and arms loaded with groceries. No
planes were in sight and none appeared to be due any time
soon. "Does the road get around the airport somehow, or can we walk across the airstrip?" We asked, pointing to the map that
showed the road crossing the runway. "Not any more. You have to go back the way you came or go around the point."
Arrrgh. We tromped back to the shore and looked out at the point.
The waves came up to the trunks of the trees all around it, pulling back
just long enough to expose a thin line of wet sand. It was either brave
the sand and water or take a long walk back towards town to the
correct road, so we went for it, dodging in and out of the trees and
running as each wave revealed a little sand. Suddenly an opening
appeared in the trees, and we found something of a path. Crouching
under some tree limbs and clamoring over others, we made a
circuitous route through the thick vegetation and finally came out at the
far end of Paradise Beach, our beach. It had been a direct route on
the map, but it sure made for a crazy hike home.
Just before our jungle excursion we had seen a sign:
"Coconut Beach Bar." Passing it, we saw it must have
been a terrific place at one time, complete with thatch
roofed ramadas and benches and a little homestead for
the owner. The view from the beach bar was stunning.
Union Island sat on the horizon with a wide turquoise
bay filling the entire mid-ground while a white sand
beach with swaying palms spread wide across the
foreground.
Mark was all set to buy the place and set up shop. Wouldn't that be
fun. But Coconut Beach Bar had probably succombed when the road
along the water no longer traversed the air strip to the other side of the
island. Once the road dead-ended at the airfield there was little reason
for anyone to come this way unless they were catching a plane.
The beach bars on Paradise Beach were thriving, however. A few
catered to the visiting yachts and were always filled with white, ex-
hippies who live on sailboats in the Caribbean. Another was
definitely a local hangout: Banana Joe's Bamboo Brunch Bar.
There was always a crowd at this place, and they always seemed
very mellow.
Another beach bar sold "the
best pizza in the Caribbean,"
according to one couple.
The little chairs under the
thatched cabanas looked so
inviting.
The entrepreneurial sprit is
alive and well on Carriacou.
We never saw any beach
vendors on Paradise Beach,
but there were many tiny
shops set up here and there.
One woman sold souvenir t-
shirts out of a shipping
container. When we first saw
it all locked up we didn't think
anything of it. It was painted
pale blue and somehow
blended in. But when she
threw the doors wide,
suddenly she was the proprietor of a gift shop.
Another home
looked very
orinary with its
doors closed in the
early morning, but
a few hours later,
once the
merchandise was
hung all over the
outside, the house
transformed into a
ladies' dress shop.
Lots of people were very creative painting the outsides of their
buildings. There seemed to be great pride taken in having a fresh coat
of paint on your home or shop. We saw at least 10 or 12 fellows
industriously sprucing up the exteriors of their homes and shops with a
bright glossy paint during our visit. There is artistic talent too, and
many buildings sport whimsical murals on their walls.
We loved every minute of our
walks around Carriacou, and we
had several planned that never
materialized simply because our
home-base was so spectacular.
The beach drew us to its
lapping waves and warm waters
every day, and wouldn't let us
out of its grasp.
Our balcony was an ideal
spot to unwind. Gazing
around ourselves in that half-
stupor that seems to wash
over visitors to this dreamy
isle, we suddenly noticed
there were two iguanas
sunning themselves on the
wall next to us. I'm not an
iguana expert, but they did
not look at all alike. They both had
impossibly long toes, but one was
much bigger than the other and
didn't have the long dangling chin
of its companion.
Once those guys slithered away,
our attention turned back to the
water where a huge mega-yacht
had taken up residence for the
evening. This mammoth black-
hulled beauty sat quietly on the
horizon while it summoned water taxis to its side. From around the
point water taxis would fly across the sea and then hang out at the
back of the mega-yacht for a few moments, handing things up to the
service staff on the yacht. Then the water taxis would disappear
back to their homes. We figured the guys on the mega-yacht had
called for more of cases of beer, or for pizza from Curtis's on the
beach. What a life. With Tiger Woods dominating the news, we
wondered if he might have slipped away on his yacht to an island paradise like Carriacou.