Antigua and Barbados, Afoot and Afloat

There’s a first and a last time for everything. The last time I leaped off the back of a sailboat in snorkel gear was, let’s see….25 years ago? This time it was only a short drop, but if I managed it, my string of life leaps off cliffs, diving boards, and boats galore was not over yet, not by a long shot.  

But I had to do more than leap. I also had to survive our Captain’s Challenge (which is advertised as an activity for ‘intrepid swimmers’): Swim through deep ocean seas to Hell’s Gate rock formation, clamber inside its coral-encrusted limestone cave, climb up to the top of the arch, and traverse the bridge. Younger me would leap before she looked on this one, but older me now came with a titanium knee joint….leaping and clambering take more forethought for lucky new knee owners like me.

But leap I did as I met the captain’s challenge and more, on Eli’s Adventure Antigua Eco-tour. Eli’s crew taught us all about Antigua’s flora and fauna, including its robust sea turtle protection program, a rare nesting brown pelican island, local bird populations, and environmental restrictions that support Antigua’s coral reef preservation efforts.

We learned about the Hawksbeek turtle that lays eggs on the beach but mistakenly heads inland toward mansion window lights instead of out to sea. So Antiguan home owners are asked to block lights or face windows away from the beach, and most everyone complies since turtle protection is a shared community value here. 

Antigua’s natural setting is so stunning that several luminaries in the Oprah Winfrey-level category own places here. Oprah loves it so much, in fact, she told Forbes Magazine that “when I want crystal-clear Caribbean water and perfect palm trees, I return to my playground on Antigua.” High praise, since she owns other tropical homes in Maui, Mendocito, and God knows where else. 

We called ahead so she could pick us up at Jumby Bay Resort’s ferry dock for a tour of her private estate, but our visit must have slipped her mind. Backup plan: We checked Expedia and learned we can rent a room at Jumby Bay for only $4,650 a night – no problem!*  (*in our next life, if we’re reincarnated as Oprah.)

Jumby Bay is so exclusive that it turned Princess Diana down when she wanted to move here. Too much disruption; those evil paparazzi might tramp all over the reef angling for a photo, perhaps? I’m sure they would. Diana bought a place on Barbados instead and $ followed, but all that economic growth came with paparazzi trailing her everywhere, so maybe not worth it so much.

While we didn’t get to tour Oprah’s estate, we did ogle all the pricey real estate from the comfort of our private launch (well, Eli’s private launch at least – a twin hull cruiser with twin Yanmar 350s). We saw secluded, powdery-sand beaches (with beach butlers I bet), and swank resorts perfectly perched to take in views of Antigua’s aquamarine coastal waters (with windows facing away from the turtles, we hope).

Underneath Antigua’s glistening azure waters lay more wonders. Hadn’t snorkeled in forever either, so when Trevor our snorkel guide said to follow him, I kept his red-white-and-blue striped swim trunks in sight at all times, as we spotted an octopus hiding under a shelf, multi-colored reef fish in profusion, and coral in a riot of stunning colors. Padre stayed back and chatted up the captain, while I ventured out to sea. The boys bonded over sailing tall tales and other captain-like things, until Captain Schemell finally asked Padre, “So you’re a captain, but you don’t swim?”

Yep. You see, Padre’s dad hated all things water-related after his time as a South Pacific/WWII Marine, and didn’t encourage his children to be swimmers either, unfortunately. Padre also remembers two near-drowning incidents, so no wonder he’s not comfortable in deep water. He can swim, sort of – but it’s better if he doesn’t venture out over his head.

On all our tours we meet ride-alongs who don’t swim, so Padre’s never alone. And sometimes people go swimming who shouldn’t – one gal melted down sobbing during the open-ocean swim and had to be talked down by her husband. Man’s gotta know his limits, as Clint Eastwood says (Padre added that part – he adores Clint Eastwood movies). I’m glad Padre pays attention to his limits, because I’m not sure my rusty old lifeguard skills would save him anymore anyway. If the Celebrity Reflection sinks, he might end up like Leo on the Titanic, floating off to oblivion while I cling to my jewelry…..

Padre surpasses me when we hit dry land though, which we did to hike to the summit of Bird Island. We took in expansive views from the tippy top – the Atlantic on one side to the Caribbean on the other – and hiked back down to enjoy a yummy boat lunch on the beach.

We said goodbye to Eli’s crew back at the St. John’s dock, where we did our polite best to brush off insistent tour vendors, diamond sellers, and souvenir hawkers as we walked through St. John’s narrow streets. I can’t imagine how, day after day, the local Antiguans deal with the swarm of tourists disgorged from the cruise ships. Sure, we’re bread and butter to many locals, but still, how annoying, even if the cruise crowd is a necessary part of economic survival. Just behind the jaunty, gaily-colored shopping district we spotted more depressed areas, and I imagine that if cruise ships stopped dumping thousands of people downtown everyday it could get pretty grim here, economically. 

We’d like to come back someday, if only to hike to the summit of Mount Obama, renamed for our 44^thUS President to honor his role as a symbol of black achievement. Antiguan Prime Minister Baldwin Spencer explained Obama’s importance this way: “As an emancipated people linked to our common ancestral heritage and a history of dehumanizing enslavement, we need to at all times celebrate our heroes and leaders who through their actions inspire us to do great and noble things.” Amen to that.

We’re glad we headed out on the water instead of into the boutiques for our day in Antigua, especially with the expert guidance we received from Eli’s crew. Most lasting impression from our day, in fact, was the genuine love our crew had for their lovely island and its stunning natural wonders.

A Bucket List success the next day in Barbados, whose sweeping seascapes, craggy cliffs, and acres of sugarcane fields make for spectacular scenery everywhere we looked. We took to her west coast waters aboard the twin-hulled catamaran El Tigre, along with a gaggle of other tourists out for a good time (and endless rum punch drinks served from the bar). I was after something bigger: My very first in-the-wild underwater sighting of a sea turtle.

Ta-da! I swam with a sea turtle in Carlisle Bay, our first stop, along with a million other snorkelers (this area is popular with divers especially, due to the more than 200 ships sunk offshore since 1666). The tan and white-spotted turtle I met seemed more like a cat than a turtle, weaving among the scrum of snorkelers, looking for attention (food). I saw way more legs than turtles, but when the turtle disappeared for awhile and I moved away from the crowd, whoa! Suddenly my guy swam up from behind and right in front of my face, making me startle. That was very cool, even though the rest of the snorkelers hurried over immediately since someone burbled, “There’s the turtle!” So not quite the way I envisioned it, but I’m good nevertheless. He was quite the site, that turtle.

We set sail up the coast from Bridgeport, and Padre loved this part – hanging out on the bow, lounging on the netting, as the warm breeze blew past and the sails unfurled. One of the crew members, a young Bob Marley look-alike, called me ‘love’ when he brought me diet cokes, and Padre had to point out that Marley Guy called all the women ‘love’. I ignored that, and later purchased some Marley jewelry to remind me of my fling with the cute guy (of course I mean Padre when I say ‘cute guy’). 

Saw oodles of new fish species at the next snorkel stop, and regretted that I forgot to buy a Caribbean fish chart. (You’d think the tourist shops would sell them but no – haven’t found one yet.) At Folkstone Marine Park, we followed a marked underwater trail around Dottin’s Reef, and I spotted my favorite fish near a sunken barge. Sans chart, I had to google to find an image of this guy: the Spotlight Parrotfish, who can change sex at will. Pretty cool! (That’d be a handy skill, wouldn’t it? I can think of lots of possibilities there…)

El Tigre’s crew dropped us off on Holetown’s beach, a town name reminiscent of what a certain politician might call a country he didn’t like, but no. The name came from the earliest English settlers, who in 1627 found it reminded them of Limehouse Hole, a certain part of the Thames in London. Hard to imagine how this tropical setting could remind anyone of London, but the name stuck and here we are in Holetown.

Our van driver sped us from Holetown back to Bridgeport over Antigua’s narrow coastal road, at death-defying speeds with lots of horn-honking. Scenery flew past in a blur, but the long stretches of palm-fringed, ivory-sand beaches along the way made it obvious why Barbados lures so many of the ‘rich and famous’ types. The road we drove seemed to be the societal divide between rich and not-so-rich, though. On the water side, lines of incredible estates; on the other, more normal people’s humbler homes and vacant lots.

After some port browsing, we returned to our comfortable 8^thdeck home-away-from home, whose location is near the Solarium Pool, Aqua Spa Café, and Sky Lounge, some of my favorite on-board hangouts. We walk a bit to get to dinner and the Oceanview Cafe, but all those steps look good on the fitbit so it works for us. After an early dinner each night with a nice group of folks, I enjoy the walk back afterwards by myself (I fade early, and Padre stays to chat), through the partying center of the action: Dancers in the Grand Foyer, drinkers sipping pretty cocktails at the Martini Bar, shoppers eyeing pricey designer items in the boutiques. 

After dinner, for me it’s time for reading, planning, and slumber, on Celebrity’s deservedly raved-about beds – they really are that wonderful. Ah. So one more beautiful day in the neighborhood, as Padre and Mr. Rogers like to say –and I met my very own turtle in the wild. How cool was that? Tomorrow, we hope to spot dolphins and whales off St. Lucia, as we head further south toward South America. Thanks, everyone for following along on our Southern Caribbean adventure!