Bridgetown, Barbados, Lesser Antilles
Latitude 13° 06'
November 7, 2013
We´d been to Barbados before. It had spoken well to us then and I knew it would be a good revisit.
This year, however, the weather held out for us, unlike three years earlier when it drizzled off an on for most of the day. This visit was marked by a hot, sunny day.
Barbados would be the largest of the islands we´d visit on this trip and we wanted to maximize our time with a tour to the west coast--the Caribbean side--of the country. We´not visited in 2010.
We skirted out of Bridgetown, the capital, and headed up the western coastal road--Barbados´ most developed side.
We passed fabulous mansions facing the sea, expensive condominium complexes and luxurious hotels where some rooms rent for $3,000.00 a night. More than once we wanted the driver to stop at some of the many powdery and palm fringed beaches that slipped into a turquoise green sea. Tiny multi-colored cottages dotted both sides of the road.
At times the van passed through shady groves of frangipani, royal palms and old stands of mahogany.
But it was only 20 miles from Bridgetown to the northernmost settlement, Speightstown, on this side of the island. And while we had driven slowly it didn´t take much time to reach our destination.
From Speightstown we headed inland through rolling hills dotted with old colonial plantations, tiny, brightly colored villages and past great fields of sugar cane and citrus. We wound down country lanes, passes dairy farms ad groves of mangoes. Low craggy hills were shaded in multiples hues of green. It was a lush scenery made more beautiful under a warm yellow sun.
We could have been in England as we passed villages with names such as Oxsford, Portland and Windsor.
At our highest point--Cherry Hill--we finally stopped to admire the vistas that unfolded in front of us. Before us was the wind-battered Atlantic coast with its fine ribbons of white sand beaches.
On our descent we passed the island´s only working sugar mill--the last remaining witness to a time when many like it processed the abundant sugarcane grown on Barbados.
My altimeter read 1,700´ at the vista point on Cherry Hill. We we dropped off it it was on a long, sinuous highway that would bring us to sea level. We were now in the Scotland District--a locale on the island the British said reminded them of the Scottish highlands. It wasn´t a stretch of the imagination. This interior was full of low, gentle undulating hills--velvet smooth and olive green. It was hard not to enjoy the views.
Once on the east coast we stopped in the charming sea-side town of Bathsheba. It had a characteristic feel ab out itself that could have put it in New England, New Zealand or Vancouver Island. I felt as if I´d been there before.
The cottages faced Barbados´ longest stretch of beach--now a natural preserve. The waters here were more turbulent than north Caribbean side. We could see surfers waiting to ride the waves.
By now it was time to return to Bridgetown. We left the Scotland District. The coastal road back to the city was sided with sea-grape, Australian pine, bananas and magnolia.
It was still early and kids were still in school. Kids were outside during their lunch hour and each student wore the same school uniform. Boys were playing cricket in nearby sports fields.
We returned to the city and Glenda and I lingered a bit in Bridgetown. I especially liked the historic church of St. Michael and All Angels which was first constructed in 1665. Inside were marvelous old memorial tablets to many early British settlers who'd died on or near the island. Many recorded how perilous it was to venture to the colonies more than 250 years ago.
Despite its moneyed west coast luster, it would be to the interior of the island I'd most like t o return. There was still so much more to see. How nice it would be to explore,more closely, the rolling hills of Scotland or spend days hiking trails along the windy Atlantic coast.
But all that would have to wait. The Norwegian Dawn was due to set sail at 5:00 pm. There would be, at least, on more full day at sea before our next two islands--Curacao and Aruba.
I was looking forward to them as well as another full day sailing on the blue Caribbean.
Latitude 13° 06'
November 7, 2013
We´d been to Barbados before. It had spoken well to us then and I knew it would be a good revisit.
This year, however, the weather held out for us, unlike three years earlier when it drizzled off an on for most of the day. This visit was marked by a hot, sunny day.
Barbados would be the largest of the islands we´d visit on this trip and we wanted to maximize our time with a tour to the west coast--the Caribbean side--of the country. We´not visited in 2010.
We skirted out of Bridgetown, the capital, and headed up the western coastal road--Barbados´ most developed side.
We passed fabulous mansions facing the sea, expensive condominium complexes and luxurious hotels where some rooms rent for $3,000.00 a night. More than once we wanted the driver to stop at some of the many powdery and palm fringed beaches that slipped into a turquoise green sea. Tiny multi-colored cottages dotted both sides of the road.
At times the van passed through shady groves of frangipani, royal palms and old stands of mahogany.
But it was only 20 miles from Bridgetown to the northernmost settlement, Speightstown, on this side of the island. And while we had driven slowly it didn´t take much time to reach our destination.
From Speightstown we headed inland through rolling hills dotted with old colonial plantations, tiny, brightly colored villages and past great fields of sugar cane and citrus. We wound down country lanes, passes dairy farms ad groves of mangoes. Low craggy hills were shaded in multiples hues of green. It was a lush scenery made more beautiful under a warm yellow sun.
We could have been in England as we passed villages with names such as Oxsford, Portland and Windsor.
At our highest point--Cherry Hill--we finally stopped to admire the vistas that unfolded in front of us. Before us was the wind-battered Atlantic coast with its fine ribbons of white sand beaches.
On our descent we passed the island´s only working sugar mill--the last remaining witness to a time when many like it processed the abundant sugarcane grown on Barbados.
My altimeter read 1,700´ at the vista point on Cherry Hill. We we dropped off it it was on a long, sinuous highway that would bring us to sea level. We were now in the Scotland District--a locale on the island the British said reminded them of the Scottish highlands. It wasn´t a stretch of the imagination. This interior was full of low, gentle undulating hills--velvet smooth and olive green. It was hard not to enjoy the views.
Once on the east coast we stopped in the charming sea-side town of Bathsheba. It had a characteristic feel ab out itself that could have put it in New England, New Zealand or Vancouver Island. I felt as if I´d been there before.
The cottages faced Barbados´ longest stretch of beach--now a natural preserve. The waters here were more turbulent than north Caribbean side. We could see surfers waiting to ride the waves.
By now it was time to return to Bridgetown. We left the Scotland District. The coastal road back to the city was sided with sea-grape, Australian pine, bananas and magnolia.
It was still early and kids were still in school. Kids were outside during their lunch hour and each student wore the same school uniform. Boys were playing cricket in nearby sports fields.
We returned to the city and Glenda and I lingered a bit in Bridgetown. I especially liked the historic church of St. Michael and All Angels which was first constructed in 1665. Inside were marvelous old memorial tablets to many early British settlers who'd died on or near the island. Many recorded how perilous it was to venture to the colonies more than 250 years ago.
Sacred to the memory of the above named officers who,
having faithfully served king and country,
fell victims to this terrible climate during the years of our Lord 1816 and 1817.
Sacred to the memory of Lieut. J. W. L. Patton who died at Trinidad
of yellow fever on the 24th of August 1853.
Despite its moneyed west coast luster, it would be to the interior of the island I'd most like t o return. There was still so much more to see. How nice it would be to explore,more closely, the rolling hills of Scotland or spend days hiking trails along the windy Atlantic coast.
But all that would have to wait. The Norwegian Dawn was due to set sail at 5:00 pm. There would be, at least, on more full day at sea before our next two islands--Curacao and Aruba.
I was looking forward to them as well as another full day sailing on the blue Caribbean.
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