Tobago - an unexceptional island?
Or maybe I am become blasé. After the protracted signing-in
ceremony, we made to recover from our trip and to see something of Tobago.
Naturally, this process started with a beer. We sat in a little bar, and
watched the world go by. Scarborough is a busy, dirty little port, and the
town was enlivened by the influx of cruise-liner passengers who crowded palely
through the streets and market stalls, being pestered by taxi-drivers as well as
swarms of traders of tourist tat. Our tour of the town revealed
neglected tin-roofed buildings, modern well-stocked supermarkets and colonial
relics such as the police and fire-stations. The numerous churches were
divided into pre-and post hurricane buildings, with the newish Anglican church
being a particularly poor example of cheap modern architecture. The
overgrown and neglected churchyard was full of the graves of departed
colonialists, with headstones etched with names to be found in any English
churchyard. We shared dinner that night with Andante's crew in a little
restaurant, where some of the crew showed signs of being overcome by the
tiredness that always follows a long sailing leg.
Being short of time, the next day we moved the boat a few yards at the
behest of the harbour-master before setting out to see a bit of the island.
Andante had warned us that hiring a car was probably a poor choice as there was
no fuel available in any of the garages. So we caught a bus to the
tourist-trap at the western end of the island. The bus, great value at
only Trinidad and Tobago $2 for each leg, dropped us near the Airport where we
could see the tail-fin of one of Richard (Sir Richard to you) Branson's
finest. We soon found the little old fort with its five ancient
canons that guarded the bay at the eastern end of the island. It must
have been an important anchorage in those days, but we could not really
understand why. Although guarding a magnificent silver-sanded beach, there
was little shelter and the few yachts anchored there were rolling
uncomfortably. We worked our way around the huge holiday complex partially
full of pasty, unfit looking mainly male British holidaymakers and found a
cheerful little restaurant overlooking the bay. Our fish and chips was
tasty, and we continued on our way around the bay. Stalls and
shacks lined the surprisingly good road, but verywhere were signs of past
investment failing to realise a decent income. The back-packer beach
hotels were faded, diving establishments were either closed or tumble-down, and
most of the local boats tethered near the beach were in need of more than just a
lick of paint. We made our way back to Scarborough earlier than
planned.
We wandered back to Cleone's dinghy via the fish market. There,
in a moment of serendipity the Skipper, chatting to the captain of a local
fishing boat, discovered he was a retired Guyanan military police officer who
had been at Sandhurst in the 1970s! A bottle of whisky changed hands, and
we returned to Cleone with six magnificent, fresh tuna steaks, which were
subsequently barbecued on the aft deck.
Being by now wise virgins, the next day the Skipper went ashore early to
clear out. Friends from Quasar V had arrived late the previous evening,
and accompanied by them the tedious process was at least enlivened by friendly
chit-chat. It was getting windy, but we stuck with our original plan to
leave for Grenada via supper in King's Bay. The 14 miles along the
Weather Coast were hard going against the wind and current. But
cooking and eating supper in this very pretty, sheltered bay made us wish we had
a couple more days to spend there. Just as we about to up-anchor and
leave, Quasar unexpectedly arrived. We delayed our departure long
enough to swim over and have a drink with them before setting off into the
moonlit night. We then fought our way around the eastern end of Tobago
before being able to turn away and sweep north west to Grenada, where we arrived
in the early afternoon.
So here we are, another couple of parties behind us, and only 135 miles of
gentle cruising through the Grenadines to reach our goal at St Lucia.
And our thoughts are turning to the hear-after. Anyone up for an
Atlantic Crossing in May?
Meanwhile, all is well with us, and very best wishes to you all.
James, Paul and Volker