Photo by Damion Mitchell
Moonhole, where houses are built using cement and sea stones. Twice a year, the full moon shines directly through the hole in this large rock. Some of the houses are still inhabited.
Damion Mitchell, Assistant News Editor
It's a fair morning in Kingstown, St Vincent, and after four days of intense meetings, gruelling deadlines and extensive workshops last week, a group of 12 delegates, at the eighth Caribbean Week of Agriculture, gather at the cruise ship port downtown for a trip to the isles of the Grenadines.
Majority of the delegates had opted for a farm tour and field trip. Their mistake.
Shortly after 9 oclock, My Fantasy, painted in red and white, makes its way into the port like a giant duck paddling down a calm stream. One by one, we went on board.
A deep voice, with an unfamiliar accent, interrupted the curiosity: "Morning all, my name is Earl and I am your captain for today".
It's a job that Earl Halbish of Fantasea Tours has been doing for more than three decades and hes good at it. But, this was a special day for him.
"Today, we have coastguard escort - my first time in 32 years," he said with a chuckle, as we departed for the eight-hour expedition.
There are 32 islands in the Grenadines but only about six are inhabited. Today, we'll pass very close to three of the main ones, but well be able to see many others, plus the neighbouring Grenada from a distance.
Five minutes into the journey and we knew there was a lot in store.
"Look at that!" someone shouted. It was a flying fish racing alongside the boat travelling at 23 knots.
Another 15 minutes and we were at Moonhole, a breathtaking rock island. Its where treasured houses are built, using cement and sea stones, and where twice a year, the full moon shines directly through a hole, painting the sea with a glorious shimmer.
We were spellbound.
"What a magnificent sight!", I marvelled, but we had to move on. As we set sail again, we noticed a man fishing. Thats one of the mainstays at Moonhole. Ironically, drinking water is a precious commodity there because the very few inhabitants depend solely on rainfall for potable water.
Largest main island<p>Welcome to Bequia - the largest island of the Grenadines. Its home to about 700 people. All the necessary amenities are there but they have the same water supply. Bequia also continues the traditions of fishing, whaling and boat building.
We did not linger at Bequia. A few minutes further south was Canouan, the island of expensive villas, often visited by the rich and famous, who land in private jets at the newly upgraded airport in the territory. At this point, some of the voyagers begged to go into the water but captain Earl would not allow it. He said there was nicer water further south at the Tobago Cays.
On route to Tobago Cays, we saw the island of Mustique in the distance. But there was no patience to soak up the lecture on it because the focus was on Tobago Cays. Finally, we were there. Crewmen Orson and Yohan stepped on to the deck, lowered a ladder into the water and started to distribute snorkelling gear.
Those who braved the depth came back with fascinating stories about the sea turtles and the wonders of marine life. I stayed put on the boat, so I missed it.
Anybody who can swim and never go snorkelling would have missed out on half of their life, said one Dominican, who related that his childhood was spent near the sea.
That must have been meant for me. As I pondered, everyone settled on the boat and we headed for the reefs. I didnt hesitate. I put on my snorkelling gear, spent a few minutes rehearsing, as this was my first time at it, and then I was off. The water was warm and inviting and the sights on the floor of the sea spectacular.
There were fish of different colours and sizes and sea urchins swimming in their reef habitat.
Before long, we had to be back on board and we set sail again. We docked on the small island of Mayreau for lunch. After the meal, some people ventured out to pick coconuts while others went for a swim, but soon everyone was lying somewhere in the boat catching a siesta satisfied.
Its now 3 oclock and its time to head back to port.
Captain Earl turns up the music sweet Jamaican reggae. As the engines of My Fantasy started, we bade goodbye to Mayreau. Ten minutes into the journey, we guzzled down sweet coconut water. I looked back. In the distance, the islands started to kiss - an enticing appeal for us to return, but we could not. Ahead, a private jet lowered over the Caribbean Sea, en route to the airport in Canouan. Beside us, a boat with two fishermen aboard pulled up.
The fishermen proudly held up their catch for us to see. In the west, the mid-afternoon sun, painted with pastel, peeked though the overcast skies. It would soon disappear; as the rains would come, taking us all the way back to the cruise ship port and marking the end a true Fantasea tour.
damion.mitchell@gleanerjm.com
