That’s the mantra for our stay on the island, get the last two weeks of home school done, whilst enjoying the perfect beaches and facilities on offer. But we also wanna explore the island as well. There are loads of excursions on offer here in St. Lucia, but we hired a car for the two weeks so that we could make our way around on our own. I do, however, always like to take a boat trip because there’s something about seeing a place from the water rather than the land that makes everything seem more connected. You could read about the various hidden beaches and discover them by driving there, but I think it’s pretty cool to see it all from a different perspective as well. So we decided to take a trip down the coast with an organised tour. There are loads of these available, and most of them are easily bookable from the lobby of your hotel. At the end of the day they all go to the same places and follow pretty much the same itinerary. We found a guy at the water sports hut on the beach though, who said that he had a tour which would be on a much smaller boat with only 10 people max, and that the other benefit with them was that they would take us for lunch in an actual restaurant rather than having the cold food served up on board the larger tour boats. Sold!
We managed against all the odds to drag the kids up on time (Bam is the main problem in the mornings, she LOVES a lie-in) to make the short drive to Reduit Beach and wander along to meet our skipper, Dexter, and his first mate Octavia for a 9:30am start. Before long we had met our fellow daytrippers and were making our way south down the west coast of the island. The sea here is dead calm, just like the proverbial millpond, which makes for a very pleasant boat ride. Although I would suspect the kids would have liked a few more waves: every time we bounced off the wake of another vessel there was a squeal of excitement from the back seats. The lush green coastline of St. Lucia conceals perfect beaches, rocky coves and beautiful luxury houses perched precariously on cliffs, reminiscent of supervillain hideaways from vintage James Bond films. You can see why people seek their own piece of paradise on these shores. You could literally hide yourself away and ignore the world entirely. Before long we pass the port of Castries, the capital of the island. This harbour was once a volcanic crater, now flooded with water it is one of the largest and deepest harbours in the Caribbean allowing up to four giant cruise liners to dock simultaneously. There were only 2 liners in port as we passed, as it is only the start of the traditional cruise holiday period.
Further on down the coast near Marigot Bay we passed a rocky headland with a natural archway through the centre of it. Lover’s Rock, as it has been termed, actually made an appearance in the Pirates Of The Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl. This is apparently an infamous spot for the local boys to partake in a bit of cliff-diving. Lo and behold, as we passed by there were three young lads climbing up the side of the rock. As we round the headland, they shouted “Are you ready?!” It seemed ever so coincidental, the cynic in me wondered if it was staged. Of course it was staged! That’s what these boys do, they hang out on the rock waiting for passing mugs, I mean tourists, to line their pockets with silver. To be fair it was very impressive, and as they all swam over to the boat I was already rooting around in my bag for a tip, they definitely deserved it. After they’d stopped for a chat and collected any tips on offer, the boys managed to coax a quick rum punch out of Octavia for the swim back to wait for the next boat to pass by.
We quickly dived in to Marigot Bay as we passed on by to ogle at the millionaires mansions and playboys yachts. This bay is known as the hurricane hole as it is the most sheltered spot on the island, surrounded on three sides by steep banks of impenetrable jungle. During the most severe weather this is where everyone moors their boats to protect them from the elements. One side of the bay has no road access whatsoever, and residents must use private water access or one of the small water taxis to access their homes. Dexter informed us that since Oprah Winfrey sold her home in Marigot Bay some years back, the only residents here are liars. “This house here is owned by…. a liar! And that big one there is owned by… a liar!” He was pretty emphatic about it, it turns out the liars in question are all rich and famous lawyers. I guess Dexter doesn’t hold a very high opinion of the legal profession.
Time for a quick 11am rum punch (minus the rum for the kids obviously) and onwards down the coast, and all of a sudden the most famous peaks of the island began to loom into view. The Pitons are two enormous volcanic plugs comprising Gros Piton at 798 metres, and Petit Piton at 743 metres. They are a UNESCO site and a lush national park very popular with hikers. Bizarrely the larger one is much easier to climb than the extremely steep Petit Piton, and is very popular with energetic tourists. Unfortunately for us it was another case of kids stopping play as I don’t think they would appreciate a four hour hike in 30 degree heat. Well, actually, I’m pretty sure Hunter would be absolutely fine, but Kate and Bam – well let’s just say it’s probably not up their street. So we just looked from afar, before docking in the original French settlement of Soufrière. From here we switched to land based transport to make our way to our first proper stop, Sulphur Springs. As you pull into Soufrière you get a great view of the ultra exclusive Jade Mountain resort in the hills. It doesn’t look much from below, in fact I think it looks like a multi storey car park to be honest, but it’s supposed to be fabulous inside. There is also a pretty cool bat cave in a crack in the side of the cliff which we take a closer look at. I bet it’s quite a sight at dusk when the thousands of residents make their way out!
Soufrière literally means “sulphur mine”, and this is because the town lies right next to a geothermal plain, right in the centre of the caldera of the dormant Qualibou volcano. This volcano last erupted in the 18th century, but the deep thermal activity here still bubbles to the surface in the form of boiling hot mud pools and steaming, sulphurous springs. The tourist attraction of Sulphur Springs is known as the worlds only drive-in volcano, because you can literally drive right into the crater. Tourists could once upon a time walk right up to the bubbling mouth of the volcano, until a poor soul called Gabriel one day fell straight through the crust succumbing to serious second degree burns. Now you are limited to a distance of a few hundred feet from “Gabriel’s Hole”, but the real attraction here is the sulphur springs and mud bath. Once you’ve paid your entrance fee, and ran the gauntlet of tat-selling tourist traps, you are able to sink into a cascade of four concrete pools, filled with progressively cooler dark-coloured thermal waters which run straight from the volcano itself.
Then you are invited to exit the water and slather yourself from head to toe with buckets of sloppy, mineral rich mud gathered from further up the spring. Once you’ve completely covered your whole body, and the bodies of your nearest and dearest in the stinky slop, you bake in the intense Caribbean sunshine until the mud dries a ghostly white and cracks open. There is then a chance for you to get your primeval art on. There are buckets of darker, almost black mud to paint over the base coat and create bizarre tribal looking graphics on your almost naked torso. Once you’re satisfied with your efforts and you’ve taken enough selfies, the thermal waters are available once again to wash yourself clean(ish). This practice of bathing in mud from the volcano is supposedly a cure-all for anything which ails you. Great for wounds, sunburn, joint problems, skin problems and more. I am normally fairly sceptical of such health claims, but honestly my normally dry and blotchy red face has never looked so good! Because this was an organised tour, time was short and we were soon hurried out by Octavia. But we all agreed that it was pretty fun and we might even come back next week for a proper tour around the volcano and another dip in these healing mud baths. Supposedly this mud makes you look on average 12 years younger, so to be honest I need at least a couple of dips, then I might emerge looking like a spritely 20 something year old (yeah right, I’m pretty sure it won’t erase my 42 year old beer belly and grey hairs!).
Our next stop was the natural power-shower of Toraille Waterfall to wash off the remaining mud. On the way down the hill we stopped at a viewpoint over Soufrière to take in the view and browse the local wares on the stall located there (which coincidentally belongs to Octavia’s auntie). The water at Toraille drops from a height of 50 feet into the bathing pool below. This apparently is supposed to feel like a massage as you stand beneath it. I tend to think of massages as being enjoyable and relaxing, this is neither. It is more of a challenge than anything else to stand beneath it for as long as you dare while the water droplets hit your head and shoulders at terminal velocity like millions of jagged stones. At least it washed off the remaining mud!
Back to Soufrière harbour for a bite to eat in Michael’s @ Gen Mwen. It’s another buffet with the prerequisite barbecued chicken legs and all the sides, just the ticket before a bit of snorkelling. The live music positioned about three metres from our table made for a relaxing(!) lunch experience. I guess they don’t like to hear themselves speak while eating in Soufrière.
The boat ride back is slightly more choppy than our trip this morning, much to the delight of Hunter and Bam. This time around they sit up front and spend the whole journey anticipating the next wave that will bounce them out of their seats amidst more squeals of delight and uncontrollable laughter. We have one more stop to make on the way back, a call in to the beautiful Anse Cochon beach for a spot of snorkelling. This beach is home to the exclusive Ti Kaye resort which controls most of the beach and its parking, but they can’t stop you landing here in a boat and enjoying its delights for free! After a good 45 minutes paddling around the vibrant reefs and enjoying the black sand beach, we made our way back to the boat for a final blast home. Although it was a pretty whistle stop tour, it was well worth it to get a feel for the coastline.
Tonight is Friday, and that means only one thing to the locals and tourists of Rodney Bay, the Gros Islet “Jump-Up” street party. This weekly street party has taken place every week for the last 50 years, and is the only place to go for great food and drinks on a Friday night. The Main Street is closed to traffic, and is lined with street vendors selling home cooked barbecue food and makeshift bars pushing all kinds of rum based concoctions and home-brews, along with craft and jewellery sellers as well. There’s also many other “stimulants” openly on offer here apart from beer and rum, but don’t let it put you off it’s just par for the course. To be honest, I’ve never been offered the magical herb more times in one place ever before in my life as I have in St. Lucia. There are regular sellers everywhere on the local streets, beaches and bars. I’ve even been asked by the barman and waiters in my hotel. I guess to be fair I do look like their target market. I’ve been called Rasta by literally hundreds of people during my short stay on the island (I thought they were taking the mickey to start with, but it seems to be actual term of respect) and I guess that goes hand in hand with smoking a bit of weed. It seems to really confuse them when I keep refusing! Anyway, back to the point, it may seem a bit edgy, but it’s all in the name of fun. Just say no and move on, or partake if you want to – it’s legal here. If you want some proper, home-cooked great value bbq fish, head for Dukes Place right on the front by the water. This amazing restaurant and bar is only open on a Friday and Saturday, but is the best place to come for a bit of grub as the huge queue of locals and tourists alike is testament to. For a measly $30EC (£10) you can get an enormous portion of whatever fish is available along with rice and salad. There’s Lambi (conch) available as well if you wanna try it. We had a go, but it’s a bit rubbery for me, although Kate liked it. She does like snails though! If you get a chance, have a chat with the lovely owner Debbie who is always milling about schmoozing the punters. This amazing lady is originally from Ireland, and ended up staying on the island after a cruise (which she hated) and making a life here, starting this awesome business with her husband and raising a family. Total charmer!
One more drink at Irie Bar (what a name, I think I might steal it and open one back home) and a wander up and down the Main Street trying not to let the kids get completely deafened by the imposing sound systems, and we head on back to the hotel for a much needed nights sleep!
Next on the list was a trip to the capital city of Castries for the Saturday market. This is apparently the main market on the island, where you can buy anything from fruit and meat to tourist tat. The main part of the indoor market is dedicated to selling souvenirs and handicrafts. Disappointingly though it seemed like every stall sold the same things, and once you’d seen one you’d seen them all. I mean Bam found herself a pretty dress (as she seems to everywhere), but the same dress was available on at least 15 different stalls. Also, the stall holders were very friendly when they were trying to attract our attention, but very quickly lost interest and indeed almost became slightly hostile when they sensed a sale was not imminent. Ah well. The food section was also slightly underwhelming we thought, with again hundreds of people selling all the same products. Very interesting to have a walk around nonetheless, but let’s just say we won’t be rushing back next Saturday morning. The towns main church, the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception is well worth a look. This is actually the largest church in the Caribbean at 200ft long, and is completely decorated inside with a giant mural by a local St. Lucian artist. It is starkly different to, and just as beautiful as all the huge and imposing traditional cathedrals we have recently visited in Europe.
One more sightseeing exhibition for our first week in St. Lucia, the 44 acre national park of Pigeon Island. This islet used to be a bonafide island separated from the mainland, but was joined by a man made causeway a few decades back to more easily facilitate it’s use as a national park, tourist destination and venue for the the internationally recognised St. Lucia Jazz Festival.
The two peaks on this islet have been home to several military installations as well as also being a base for a sixteenth century French pirate called Jambe-de-bois, or Peg Leg. The remains of the British Fort Rodney complete with cannons still exist at the top of the first peak. If you dare you can then climb the second peak for a clear view of Martinique 25 miles to the north. This is, however, a bit of a scramble on loose ground with sheer drops on one side, probably not great for small kids (especially clumsy ones like Bam!). This, combined with the blistering heat and high humidity persuaded us instead that it was a far better idea to head back down and enjoy the beach instead.
There is one of the islands best remaining reefs to enjoy on this beach. I quickly found out that there are many urchin shells to be picked up here, as long as you’re willing to dive down 3 or 4 metres and grab them. I soon devised a system with the help of a short stick, whereby I could pick them up without risking being impaled by the very much alive neighbouring urchins.
One more stop to Marie’s fish bar on the beach to pick up some takeaway blue marlin with all the trimmings for dinner. While we were waiting, the “Flooting Bar” pulled up on the beach, so we had a quick smoothie and cocktail while we waited. As the man chopped up a coconut for the Pinter in front of us we noticed he seemed to be missing a hand. As the machete slammed down perilously close to where his ex-hand was steadying the coconut, I couldn’t help wondering if that’s how the missing appendage met its demise. But I dare not ask.
That’s it, week one over. It sounds like we’ve done loads, but really it’s been an awful lot of down time on the beach and round the pool, worked around school lessons. The occasional day trip here and there has been great to get under the skin of the island, and we now feel comfortable in our neighbourhood. Let’s see what next week brings.