My husband and I are travel writers. Which means when we get to a destination, we explore every aspect, constantly seeking out stories. Until we got to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands. That didn’t happen. And it was almost like – dare I say the word? – a vacation. But let’s back up a bit.
We are a lot older than our last trip thirty years ago when my husband had the temerity to actually hazard driving. To put the roads in context, they’re dangerous and death-defying. We weren’t trying that again. But to give them their due, as you drive around the harrowing roads (with someone else driving), sometimes the fear subsides sufficiently to ooh and ahh around every turn at yet another spectacular view — cliches abound — and yes, more so on Tortola than other Caribbean islands. It’s not unusual to hear someone say, “Don’t bother craning your neck — it’s just another magnificent view.”
So this time we were greatly limited in our usual practice of exploring every nook and cranny. This time, no crannies. So other options. A guided island tour; a ferry to Jost Van Dyke island; a lobster fest on the island of Anegada. But we still had 10 days left and we were stranded. So we gave ourselves permission to enjoy the hotel beach and pool, something we’ve never had time for before.
So, yes, the beach is pristine, the azure sea inviting, the canopy trees enveloping, the chaise unimaginably relaxing. The reggae music in the background toe-tapping enticing. And I haven’t even had my first Painkiller yet — more on that later. I lay cocooned trying to visualize all the other island attractions I’ve yet to discover. I’m just not sure I want to. Fortunately, I pretty much wasn’t able to.
Later, sitting on my hotel balcony, another rum drink in hand and listening to the madding cacophony of coqui tree frogs singing their nightly repertoire, I couldn’t be further away from the ambiance of my usual city life. I was very okay with that.
Although during certain times of the year, swimming is discouraged on Tortola due to unusually powerful undertows, beaches still reign supreme on the island. There are beaches for snorkeling, some for diving, others surfing, secluded spots for quiet reflection, others attract the partying crowd. The BVI, comprised of 60 islands and cays with six inhabited, is also the “Sailing Capital of the World.”
One getaway we allowed ourselves was a short ferry ride to Jost Van Dyke, BVI’s smallest inhabited island. White Bay, home of the infamous Soggy Dollar Bar, lives up to its name. So does the Soggy Dollar. Rumor has it that coming off the boats — the only mode of transportation to the island – sailors’ money would get wet on the approach. The bar — home to the original Painkiller (we’re still getting to that) — was willing to accept their mangled money — i.e., their soggy dollars….
People come for the express purpose of having a good time — and are determined to do so. Painkillers help. These magical drinks — Pusser’s rum (and only Pusser’s rum) with coconut cream and fruit juice — were first created at the bar in the 1970’s and has since become the signature drink throughout the BVI.
Because of high tides, swimming on Tortola is sometimes discouraged but the water on Jost van Dyke is calm and inviting. I was so afraid I was going to go home and have to admit I had spent two weeks in Tortola without going into the ocean. Thank you, Jost van Dyke!
Rejuvenated by a swim, we headed out to the second most famous bar on the island — Foxy’s, part of a whole even-more commercial open-air market. It makes Soggy Dollar look like a laid-back neighborhood hangout. A large mural dominates the bar area.
But most of my unknown comrades were there for the atmosphere, loud music and a bar covered with pennants, hats, assorted license plates and dollar bills hanging precariously. With every corner covered, it’s a lot to take in. Foxy Callwood, who opened the bar in 1968, is a man of many stories which he is more than happy to share and share….
The city center of Road Town, Tortola’s capital, offers your typical cruise ship fare so the less said the better. Not a dig at Tortola — just true of every Caribbean island. But right in town is the J.R. O’Neill Botanical Gardens — a hidden oasis that justifies a trip to town. A labyrinth of interlocking paths engulfed in greenery — admittedly a tad redundant since the entire island blankets you in greenery.
Small, large, low, high and enormous, with leaves the size of surfboards that make you stop and stare. Plants are light, dark, thin, thick, mottled, marbled — a mini-rainforest in the middle of a city.
Did I mention the roosters — they’re everywhere, either strutting about in their feathered finery or sparking a cringe-worthy pillow on the head during their very early morning greetings — repeated multiple time throughout the day. There’s no stopping them.
Alas, again without a car, we returned to our pool and our beachfront. We managed to adjust very well to our new reality. We’ve never had time to read books on a working trip before. We could get used to this…
For more information, visit BVITOURISM.COM or call: 1-800-835-8530.
