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52 worldtravellermagazine.com
was a goodie — we shared its murky 30C
waters with visitors and St Lucians, and
left feeling soothed and smoothed). But
one vendor did show me the Creole way
to drink from a green coconut — the
top machete’d off flat (no Piton-pointy
whittling), and no straw. What price
dignity when authenticity and single-
use plastics are at stake, I thought
nobly, as it dribbled down my chin.
But the best view of the Pitons came
600m above sea level at Tet Paul, a
community-run nature trail through an
organic farm, where we learnt a bit of
history, and a bit about local produce,
medicinal plants and other exotic flora
— but mainly gawped at the sight of
both Pitons rearing up dramatically
from the sea. The beer label hadn’t done
them justice. But my husband still had
amphibians on his mind: ‘They’re like
giant toads emerging from a pond.’
The furthest north we got was
Rodney Bay, where the topography
was less crumpled, and life more
obviously tourism-focused. The yacht-
filled marina, especially, felt a world
away from creaky Balenbouche and
homespun Tet Paul, but it was another
community enterprise that brought
us here. Keen to get out on the water,
I’d found Jus’ Sail, a company offering
day charters on the restored Great
Expectation, a historic Carriacou trading
sloop; owners James and Pepsi also run
a training scheme for local youngsters
to help them out of unemployment.
As a means of wrapping some
heritage and social responsibility up
in a rather lovely, lazy afternoon, their
sunset cruise was hard to argue with.
James, Pepsi and a scheme graduate,
OB, chatted sailing, history and potent
punches as we tacked across the bay,
the boat tilting 45 degrees one way
then 45 degrees the other. Pepsi said
that out here they were often treated
to a green flash, that optical effect as
the sun finally slips over the horizon.
That day, moody tufts of cloud framed
the sinking sun — and hooray, a pop
of green like a magician’s flourish.
It was wonderfully relaxing; of course
it was. But quite honestly, half the
fun we had in St Lucia was driving itstwisty roads, waving back at grannies
leaning gossip-ready on their verandah
rails. We’d crank up the country and
western on the radio (St Lucians love
it), stop at random roadside joints, and
follow our noses down little tracks to
Piaye and other empty beaches. We
even found we’d grown fond of (or
used to) Balenbouche’s eccentricities.
We assumed the teeny tree frogs in
the sink and the doorstop-like toad
in the corridor were doing their bit
to keep mozzie populations down.
We supplemented our supermarket
breakfast with mangoes collected from
the lawn. We felt more immersed in
the island’s nature than we would
have in a pest-controlled, manicured
resort. So maybe we could do without
windows after all. No pane, no gain?Inspired to travel? To book a trip, call
+971 4 316 6666 or visit dnatatravel.com Credit:Liz Edwards/The Sunday Times Travel Magazine/News Licensing‘
HALF THE FUN WE HAD IN ST LUCIA
WAS DRIVING THE TWISTY ROADS
AND WAVING BACK AT GRANNIES
LEANING GOSSIP-READY ON THEIR
VERANDAH RAILS