It’s good to arrive early at the Tobago Cays.
The three-masted sailing ship I booked passage on arrived shortly after dawn at the little cluster of islands at the southern end of the Caribbean. My small group pretty much had the place to itself. We picked a prime stretch on one of the larger islands – little more than sandbars, really – and spread out our blankets, sunscreen and snorkel gear.
I’ve been to Hawaii and Mexico, Spain and the Philippines. But of all the places I’ve swam in the world, here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, was the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen. An almost electric aquamarine – almost artificial looking, as if the bottom of the sea was an enormous swimming pool painted a brilliant white.
I jumped in and snorkeled among parrotfish by a reef. What seemed like a thousand small silvery fish engulfed me, a miniature world that passed me by with little notice. Up on the beach, palms shaded a nice stretch of sand just off the waterline.
But nowhere quickly became somewhere as the morning progressed. At first, our boat was one of only two in the little bay. But by 10 a.m., the parade of yachts began. The sails just kept coming over the horizon. Soon there were eight on our little bay alone. I took a short hike to the other side and there, stretched out to the horizon, were 22, then 31, then 46 and finally 56 boats parked in various coves.
It was an internationally eclectic group. The French seemed to prefer catamarans and the Americans and English mono-hulled boats. I could make out Australian and Spanish and Mexican flags fluttering from the sterns, too. There were a few barks and mega-yachts in the mix. All anchored in rows.
Luckily, no ship much larger than a sloop arrived. The five islands that make up the Cays are spread across an area about 40 miles long and 10 miles wide between the larger islands of St. Vincent to the north and Grenada to the south. But because the waters are so shallow – usually no more than 75 feet deep – the Tobago Cays are impossible for the cruise ships to navigate. It’s the preserve of yachts and a few smaller ships that can make the trip without getting stuck on a sand bar.
That doesn’t mean you have to own your own boat to get there. Day boats from resorts on Union Island in the Grenadines often make the trip, and they were so plentiful by midday that the beautiful beach began to take on a bit of the feel of Coney Island on the Fourth of July.
The boats pulled directly up onto the beach, their huge bulk blocking out the views of the Caribbean. I moved my towel a couple of times, but each time there would be another boat gliding along, then intentionally running ashore, a crewman jumping off the bow to tether a line to a nearby palm tree. You had to do the limbo just to walk down the beach.
By noon, all the shady spots were gone. One group of yachters came ashore with a gas grill and another with a big wooden picnic table, which they chucked off a dingy and into the surf, then floated it to shore to prepare a lunch in paradise for their well-heeled guests.
Each of the string of tiny islands with a beach filled with swimmers, sunbathers and snorkelers. Our area was filled up with kids from the Semester at Sea program, who beached themselves for an afternoon sans books.
Vendors arrived by a small boat and began stringing up lines for T-shirts to sell. One palm tree on a nearby islet on closer inspection turned out to be a cell phone tower in the shape of a palm tree, so the yachties could keep up to date with the goings on at the Boarse, NYSE, Nasdaq or Footsie.
By midafternoon, I was ready to go. A beautiful paradise had been most definitely found – by too many fellow travelers. The bikini-clad woman standing on a catamaran yakking in French into her cell phone summed up the scene.
But for those of us who came early, the Tobago Cays at their best can feel like Gilligan’s Island – with perhaps just a few too many Thurston Howells in their yachting caps (and with second wives who looked more like Ginger than Lovey).
Contact the writer: Warner can be reached at gettingaway@ocregister.com
