Islands In The Sun

BARBADOS
After a calm Atlantic crossing from West Africa, we reached our first Caribbean port of Barbados. We were looking forward to taking to the azure waters and were not disappointed, first snorkeling with turtles who swam like flat bottomed submarines towards us, brushing against us in search of food. Admittedly, we outnumbered the turtles, but later on that afternoon we relaxed in the tranquility of the pristine water. Lying on our backs, the salty water kept us buoyed. The sky was hanging with cumulus clouds and the lush vegetation beyond the beach was alive with the chatter of birds. Magic.

The following day we sailed past Guadeloupe, its headlands dotted with a chorus line of wind turbines. It was early morning, our usual walk on deck underway. On the opposite side of the ship there was a sudden splash in the water. Often when a wave crests you hope it is a creature from below breaking the surface. In most cases it isn't but today we were all delighted to see a humpback whale flash its tail above the waves then dive back down to resurface a few minutes later.

ANTIGUA
Docking in Antigua was a bit of a surprise - the busy shoreside now dotted with duty free shops hawking Columbian emeralds and Island rum bore no resemblance to the place we remembered on our last visit - but that was 20 years ago. No matter, today we were going to the rain forest to zip line over the exotic forest canopy.

After a bumpy ride through the countryside we reached our destination. Eventually - we were most definitely on Island time - we were kitted out in harnesses, carabenas, ropes, helmets and gloves. And then we proceeded across a rickety suspension bridge to the first jumping off point.

The definition of "vulnerable" can best be described as hanging from a steel wire, forest stretching out below, as a delightful Island girl clicks this and hooks that and says "OK darling, off you go". I shrieked a WHOOEEEEEE as I flew across the tree tops to be caught at the next station by a handsome Island boy with long dreadlocks who called me "sweetie".

This was one of nine such zips.

It was hot, we sweated profusely, but we loved every minute. Except of course for the final maneuver which involved walking off "the leap of faith" platform to free-fall into a 25 foot drop to someone below who didn't really seem to be very motivated to make sure we landed safely.

This I thought would likely void our waivers, the language of which was interesting ....

I am however here to tell the tale, pictures in hand and somewhat gratified to know that our next stop will be in Tortola - the hunting ground of Captain Jack Sparrow. But instead of jumping off platforms into rainforest, we will be leaping into the ocean from a catamaran - can't wait.

TORTOLA
The reading materials describe the British Virgin Islands as serene, seductive and spectacularly beautiful. Sailing in on Sunday morning the views on all sides of the ship lived up to their billing. The numerous islands that make up the chain - Tortola being the largest - are striking with steep green hills.

We boarded our catamaran and within minutes the trade winds had picked up the sails and we were off to our destination about 45 minutes away. We sat with our legs dangling off the cat, the soles of our feet occasionally kissed by the waves. The ocean, which reflected the sun, had a platinum look to it.

Our snorkeling destination for the morning was a feast for the eyes. Turquoise water lapped against a rocky enclave.

The fish swam amongst us as though we were invisible - colourful sylph-like creatures striped with yellow, silver, purple and blue. We motored on to our beach destination, continuing our new-found pastime of simply floating on our backs in the warm, salty water.

TURKS AND CAICOS
The Turks and Caicos Islands were in sharp contrast to the dramatic hillsides of Tortola. Grand Turk, its capital, is located on the biggest island which is just seven miles long and one mile wide. While the islands have the look of a sandbar, what is striking is the colour. White sandy beaches and sparkling neon turquoise water.

Today we set off on another catamaran trip to snorkel. We reached a coral reef which fell away sharply into deeper water, providing a dramatic contrast in colour as we splashed about. The most common fish, yellow fin snaps, their silver bodies and bright yellow markings appeared luminescent as they darted about, framed against the deep blue water beyond the reef.

The colour palate was perfect. Later that afternoon under full sail we docked at a sandy beach to swim. Its hard to explain the thrill of walking down the catamaran's narrow ladder into the ocean. It was as though we were stepping into an underwater screensaver with a sparkling emerald and azure backdrop.

I told our companions that we have water this colour in British Columbia - the only problem is it is glacial. Pondering that thought, we continued to float in the water as it lapped over our bodies.

Now THIS Is Cruising

Over the last number of years we've cruised a lot, always picking the itinerary as the first criteria. Our favourite cruise of all time was on the long gone "Song of Flower" which took us from Bombay through the Suez Canal to Athens.

It had been such a memorable trip, not because the ship was particularly beautiful, more because of the level of service on board, the ports of call and the people we met.

Fourteen years later on board Seven Seas Voyager we recaptured some of that magic on a 27 night cruise from Cape Town to Fort Lauderdale, the final leg of the ship's world cruise. It was Day 19 and we were enjoying lunch in the Compass Rose looking out over a calm sea. The horizon seemed to flat line against the sky in a deep navy line, the waves no more than casual swells, periodically tipped by a white cap or two and schools of flying fish.

In true form, the itinerary had been the main appeal and even though we knew the joys of Song of Flower were in the distant past, we were thrilled with this shipboard experience - service excellence, varied dining and entertainment options as well as interesting fellow passengers.

On Day 2 we happened to sit near a table of ladies who had joined the ship in San Diego over a 100 days earlier for the world cruise in its entirety. Unified in their disdain of how awful the airlines had become and how packing was going to be a chore, they comforted themselves in the knowledge that the ship would be sending their luggage home freight. Hold that thought --- we were just beginning our adventure, and what an adventure it was going to be.

The on-board experience - where to begin.

The James Bond evening was a blast. A large 007 ice sculpture decorated with martini glasses, champagne and caviar, Bond movies playing, theme songs belted out by singers dressed like the great man himself and a trivia contest which we shamelessly won hands down.

Trivia games on board cruise ships are a tradition but its mood varies from a mildly competitive team spirit to virtual hand-to-hand combat over the holy grail - a key chain or a bookmark the sought-after prize. Or in this case, the elusive Regent travel clock, which disappointingly turned out to be a shipboard myth.

While everyone likes to win trivia, the friendships formed are the best prize of all. In our case a six-member team called the Tri-Nations because it comprised Americans, Australians and Canadians. Five wins under our belt, hats and bookmarks all round. And did you know Charlotte that a porcupine does not actually throw its quills?

Dinner under the stars in Namibia, when everyone on board was driven out into the desert for dining and entertainment. On our return to the quay a large number of the ship's complement formed a boisterous line on either side of a red carpet to welcome us back on board while the band played and the champagne flowed - shades of the Song of Flower all those years ago in Safaga.

Dinner in Le Veranda always a treat, but the highlight for us one evening was a candlelit, linen covered table on a small deck outside the main restaurant. It was as though we were on our own private yacht. Another night, the restaurant was transformed into Don Vito's Trattoria and filled with singing and dancing.

Dinner and a Show - where a small group of passengers dine in Signatures, one of the speciality restaurants, followed by intimate cabaret-style entertainment in an adjoining lounge.

The atmosphere, as well as the steaks and lamb of Prime 7, another speciality restaurant, complimented by excellent wines - and actually way too much of them - was first class.

Yesterday, the Compass Rose galley put on an eye-popping display. We have gone "behind the scenes" many times on past cruises and enjoyed imaginative, colourful buffets. But this one set the bar even higher. As we passed through the galley we enjoyed the displays of food and wine but the common thread was the smiles on the faces of the staff, who seemed genuinely pleased to welcome passengers into their back yard.

We were particularly pleased to meet the chef who had prepared a special off-menu Indian dinner which had been served in our stateroom after our day in The Gambia. Samosas, chicken tandoori, naan and mango chutney with a beautiful dessert made from carrots cooked in milk with cardamom were only part of the menu.

That particular evening we had returned from our day in The Gambia, dusty and tired, negotiating our way through the crowds on the pier who were vying for last minute souvenirs in the makeshift market. We found serenity in our stateroom thanks to Charlie and Victor. The curtains had been drawn, the table laid with linens, silverware and crystal and the bed turned down early so that we would not be disturbed.

That evening Charlie served our meal course by course and what a joy to have our dessert with what was left of the Wild Rock Sauvignon Blanc (our new favourite) on the stateroom balcony as the ship pulled out of port.

The enrichment lectures have been particularly good - who knew the fate of the double humped camel, that Tosca was the operatic equivalent of "the Scottish play" and that China's influence in South America is as prevalent as it has become in Africa.

Our daily ritual of walking the decks for three miles before breakfast has continued, despite the soaring temperatures. Even though we have been enjoying a few 25 hour days as we gain time sailing west to the Caribbean, the sun is high in the sky at 6:30 a.m. After three sweltering miles, what better than fresh juice produced from the poolside juicer - you choose the fruit and vegetables (and fresh ginger when they have it), and the staff produce a healthy refresher.

What a joy to see new parts of the world and meet new friends - and in such style and comfort.

Behind the Shutters of Mindelo

What a contrast today had been. After visiting some of the poorest countries in Africa, the Cape Verde Islands provided a welcome relief and a prequel to the Caribbean Islands that await us over the next ten days.

Cape Verde is a group of rugged, volcanic islands located about 350 miles off the west coast of Africa.

Docking in the port city of Mindelo, it was a bright sunny Sunday morning and all was quiet except for the sounds of singing that came through the windows of the Church of the Nazarene, a small building just off the main square.

The buildings of Mindelo have a Portuguese charm to them - clay tiled roofs, pastel coloured walls and wooden shutters in various states of repair.

The swaying palms, bougainvillea and hibiscus seemed to soften the narrow streets, many of which are cobbled.

Down on the waterfront it looked as though Sunday was "dog bathing day". Locals took their canine companions on leashes into the bay, ruffling their coats in the salty water. Man and dog unified in their pleasure of the cooling water.

The sleepy feeling of this colourful town perhaps hides many a secret behind its shutters because the history of the islands is quite a story.

Portugal claimed the uninhabited islands for their empire in the 1400s, bringing enslaved Africans to work in their newly established sugar plantations.

Entrepreneurs and those seeking solace from religious persecution in Europe followed, adding to the potent ethnic mix one sees in today's residents. But its interesting that of the million or so Cape Verdeans, over one half live elsewhere in the world.

The Cape Verde Islands became independent in 1973 after a particularly nasty struggle in the jungles of Guinea-Bissau on the African mainland - an ultimately failed attempt to join both countries into one nation.

A far cry from today's sleepy Sunday morning as the colour of the buildings intensified in the morning sun and the shutters of its buildings slowly opened to let in another day.

Banjul Eyes

Before coming on this trip I had no appreciation for the many small countries that make up Africa - in fact I'll be quite honest - I would struggle if I had to name even half.

The almost schizophrenic carving up of the continent by the colonial European powers in their day has resulted in the boundaries of the many countries that make up modern Africa. So, I suppose I can be forgiven for knowing next to nothing about The Gambia - the smallest country on mainland Africa. It looks like a finger jutting into Senegal, which shares its other borders. Gambia's own boundaries mirror the meandering Gambia River - a River that was of strategic importance during the infamous slave trade.

We docked in the port of Banjul, located on Banjul Island where the Gambia River enters the Atlantic Ocean. The wharf was long and narrow and across from our berth a series of fishing boats were tied up offloading impressive amounts of frozen tuna.

Beyond the dock gates, container traffic vied for position on the potholed dirt road leading out of the port while the craft marketeers gathered in full force, ready to set up shop on the dock once the port authorities gave the OK.

The most striking thing was the colour. The women's costumes and headdresses were so vibrant and many were wearing beautiful necklaces and earrings.

A predominantly Muslim country, the backdrop was the sound of mullahs calling the faithful to prayer - it was Friday.

Today's excursion was to take us out into the countryside to visit a school as well as a family who had opened up their home so that we could experience their communal lives. While Gambia's economy is dominated by farming, fishing and tourism, about a third of the population lives below the poverty line. This was all too evident as we drove through its largest city of Serekunda into the countryside.

Our mode of transportation was somewhat unique - described as "an open-sided four wheel drive that seats about 20 people" - the old converted army truck with its broken seats and thatched roof trundled down the road, throwing us this way and that as yet another pothole was negotiated.

Leaving the town, the road turned into a winding track and the countryside looked desolate. It was still the dry season and the rains were not due for another couple of months. Enormous termite hills flanked the roadway together with various vegetation.

Now and again we would brush against lime and cashew trees as we lurched from side to side over the uneven track. Dust clouded around us as another pothole was missed and errant branches thrashed the side of the vehicle, some dropping their leaves and fruit on us as we ducked to avoid a direct hit.

Eventually we arrived at the school, a compound originally built by the Dutch. The children ran to greet us and sang for us in their classrooms while their teachers explained the educational system.

It was clear that Gambia's educational infrastructure is severely under-resourced and that the school, like so many others, was relying on outside help. A crudely made donations box was passed around and it was with a feeling a great sadness that we saw the hopelessness of providing an educational system like the one we take for granted.

While close to half of the students in the primary school were girls, it was clear during our home visit that women are the providers and the glue that holds their large extended families together.

The men didn't appear to be particularly motivated. The large numbers of children that ran out to wave and yell wildly when they heard our vehicle coming was astonishing.

Returning to Banjul we followed a coastal road, passing a fishing community. The stench of raw fish was strong as well as a more fragrant smell coming from the peanut processing plant, Gambia's predominant export earner.

Back on the dock there was organized chaos as fellow passengers bargained in the makeshift market. The fisherman from the shipping alongside us watched lazily, some stretched out in wheelbarrows that had been used earlier in the day to transport the tuna haul.

All that seemed to be missing from the melee was the aroma of a camp fire or two and cooking food.

And then the scene would have been perfect, underscored by those haunting Banjul eyes.