So it seemed only natural that I head to the world’s oldest distillery for a tasting. Mount Gay, founded in 1703. I’ve recently come from the Scottish Highlands where I sampled some of their famous scotch whiskys. Now being anything but a whisky connoisseur, I couldn’t tell any difference among the several “drams.” After multiple tries, I slinked out of the distillery. But I like rum. I drink rum. I know rum?

The distillery tour started with a welcome rum punch. Doesn’t count for anything in my book. We had to go through a two-hour introduction to the whole history of rum and the very intricate process of making it to finally earn the right to actually taste some.

Some of it, thanks to our energetic guide, Romal — the sound of whose very name reflects his occupation — was actually interesting. From its first inception, recipes were never written down, put passed from blender to apprentice. Each blender takes what exists and builds upon it so that the results are more than just another version of the same rum — but also a whole new experience. Most of the information is proprietary to Mount Gay and, as we were told, the process emphasizes quality over quantity, meaning nothing is rushed. Their motto: It’s ready when it’s ready! I figured somewhere there’s a little old grandmother in charge.

But finally, we got to the tasting. Romal instructed us how to hold the glass, to twist it to reveal “legs,” to smell it. One rum, ages 3 to 7 years, was “robust and bold.” The second, older, was “more complex with a more definitive ‘mouth feel.'” That was the tasting. Not much to go on. At least my quasi-sophisticated familiarity with rum (after all, I had been in Barbados for almost two weeks) told me the second rum was smoother than the first. Did I taste the hints of salted caramel, cinnamon and fruitcake? Not a chance! More slinking…

However, after even a moderate imbibing of the smooth golden liquid, sustenance is required. And in keeping with Barbadian tradition, a food tour exploring typical Bajan specialties is called for. First stop was — well not food. Before, and during, our ingesting of island edibles (in this day and age, is it necessary to emphasize that, in this context, that refers to actual food?), 400 years of Bridgetown history must also be digested. The conquest by the British, the thriving slave trade along the Careenage, the UNESCO World Heritage site House of Parliament, the oldest Synagogue in the Americas and, of course, Roebeck Street where Mr. Rumball first transformed the world’s devotion to rum. But let’s get to the important stuff: Black Cake.

Paulette, our guide, led us on an enthusiastic journey, warning us that upon completion, they may have to roll us back to the bus. With an emphasis on spices, seasonings and sugar, we stopped first at “Crumbz,” because, according to Paulette, after eating Bajan food, that’s all that’s left. After a minced beef roll, coconut bread and the Caribbean’s famous rum Christmas specialty, Black Cake, about which a NY Times bestselling book has recently been written. I could have gone home sufficiently satiated.

Next onto a “hole in the wall” restaurant, the kind locals frequent, for chicken, macaroni pie, and casava. It was a full meal masquerading as a mid-day snack. Observed Paulette: “We need to have such a heavy diet to weather all the rum that’s drunk.”

At the thought of fish cakes yet to come, my stomach started to rebel. Until I tasted them. Okay, so apparently, I wasn’t done.

At the food market (go figure!), we sampled locally grown fruits and juices before moving on to another mini-meal of fish, peas and rice and more root vegetables. As delicious as everything was, I wasn’t disappointed to hear that we only had one stop left. For the first time since I had arrived in Barbados, I wasn’t thinking about where I wanted to go for dinner!

But tourists cannot live by food and drink alone. A little island culture is also required, offered by many tours. But do not even think about taking THIS tour after eating and drinking. That would be the Island Safari tour, part sightseeing, part adrenaline rush. As we got into the open-air van, our driver/guide Wayne casually mentioned we should be prepared for a bumpy ride, mud and water. Truer words were never spoken.

Yes, lots of history, horticulture (the only thing Wayne loves more than mud are trees), culture, tradition, legends punctuated by panoramic views of the island. Then he casually mentioned that we might go off-road a bit.

A mile of hair-raising, terrifying, mud-driven insanity just for the sake of adventure. Then on to more sight-seeing. But by the time my various organs returned to their normal locations in my body, we were off again. Wayne delighted in leaving the rough, pot-holed, winding supposedly paved roads to take rough, pot-holed winding muddy dirt paths that cut through sugar cane fields. His usual patter rescinded as did any attempt of mine to take notes. Hard to do when you’re holding on for dear life. Incredibly harrowing — but oh so much fun. Not for the faint of heart or body, however.

My favorite stop among many was an array of colorful carved animals sculpted into a mountainside along the road. A life-size giraffe, elephant, baboon, rhino, hippo, zebra — certainly legitimized the safari part of the tour name.

There are signs everywhere admonishing you not to sit or park under coconut trees. Now that’s something you pay attention to. But if you still crave the milky white liquid, there are numerous roadside stands — often tended to by men with machetes — offering juice without any threat to bodily injury (despite the machetes….).

Did I mention Wayne’s jovial discourse? A sample of Wayne humor: Royal Palm trees which reach higher in the sky than their less mighty cousins but lack their coconut bounty are a symbol of wealth. “Just like a politician,” remarked Wayne, “they stand high above you and do nothing.” Bada boom.

So much to see and do, and with a 2-1 ratio of Barbadan dollar to that of the U.S. — and very reasonable prices throughout the island — you can actually afford to do almost all. And yes, there are also beaches — lots of beautiful sand beaches. If you’re into that sort of thing….

For more information, visit mountgayrum.com, islandsafari.bb and lickrishfoodtours.com.

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Those are just a few of the things you won’t find on the Caribbean island of Nevis. And all the more reason to go there. And now you can again. Nevis having happily escaped the scourge of Covid during its peak, re-opened to the international public the end of October – and has since worked hard to maintain all recommended protocols.

So yes, it’s a better description of St. Kitts, Nevis’ much more commercialized sister island, a 45-minute ferry boat ride away. And although Nevis may be synonymous with tranquility, that does not mean it’s boring. Far from it.

Case in point, we started our visit with a Pub Crawl from Nisbet Plantation, an inn founded on a former sugar mill plantation. But these are not the usual beach bars most tourists frequent. Instead they’re the local rum shops, small shacks along the road that seldom have a sign on them and rarely attract any drive-by traffic. My husband and I regularly seek them out when in the Caribbean because we relish the sense of island flavor and the excuse to talk to laid-back locals, but we’ve never seen them part of an organized activity.

Being with a large crowd detracts from that intimacy a bit but it nonetheless is a wonderful opportunity to feel comfortable going off the beaten path. Each of the five bars has its own ambience – or in most cases, lack of one –  which only adds to its appeal. As one imbiber exulted: “This is great because we’re visiting places we would never go to on our own.” Not sure how the local residents felt about the influx of tourists but everyone was welcoming and eager to engage in conversation.

The Pub Crawl was a perfect segue to the Funky Monkey Tour, a three-hour ATV tour with Waz who kept us all enthralled throughout the wild ride. First stop – Lover’s Beach, where Waz said, “They don’t promote nude bathing but…” The fact that there were no people on it at all precluded any prurient interest on my part. Lack of people was to become a theme.

Next stop, more historical, less lascivious.  The Thomas Cottle Church, built in 1822 and operated as the first integrated church on the island. Plantation owner Cottle believed that he and his slaves should worship together, not a common practice in those times. Okay, the inspirational part of the tour.

We traveled over a lot of roads that no self-respecting normal car would ever consider driving over. When I asked the name of the road, Waz responded, “The ‘I’m Lost’ Road.”  At one point, after an exceptionally rocky part, he forewarned us that the next stretch was going to get really bumpy. We were like, “HUH?” I’m not just talking back roads here but trails glutted with rocks and roots and gulleys so as to be seemingly untraversible – or so I thought until they weren’t. But the views at the end of the stomach-churning drive were worth it.  And the monkeys scurrying in the bushes provided additional distraction when needed.

Hard to categorize the total appeal of Funky Monkey. Part nature tour, part exciting adventure, part history lesson – all intermingled in rapid succession. Oh and did I mention the rum punch out of the cooler in back?

Onto another stop at Nisbet where remnants of the 18th Century plantation windmill greet you upon arrival. Waz related the custom that if you get married on the property – and there are very few more beautiful settings – they plant a coconut tree with your names on it. And, of course, you’re welcome to come back anytime to watch it grow. How’s that for a marketing ploy?

We visited a local wild herd of sheep, which not surprisingly were missing the usual wool covering. Little warm in the islands for that. Which makes them almost indistinguishable from goats except, we learned, goats have tails that go up; sheep down. In my hometown of Washington, DC, there’s a restaurant called Tail-Up Goat. Now I understand it.

When I queried Waz as to how far our lodging was, he replied, “Nowhere on Nevis is far.” And upon actually seeing another car on the road in front of him, he lamented, “Traffic? In Nevis?”

And indeed, rush hour is more likely to be a herd of goats or a family of donkeys than another car. Making up for the lack of cars are an abundance of donkeys, monkeys, goats, sheep and chickens. Another reminder of Nevis’s laid-back charm.

Waz took us to a hidden area of woods that he claimed was his private sanctuary; no trails, no paths, no clearing. And once again, no people. Since we had seen not a soul on any beach or other destination, I was beginning to wonder where the 11000 Nevisians were. This is not an island where you feel over-run by tourists! Or people, for that matter. Rum, on the other hand, was still flowing freely. Also monkeys. There are 30,000 of THEM.

Exciting adventure #3 on this island that allegedly has nothing on it? A nature hike with Baba who provided lots of information about the flora and fauna as we walked. Unfortunately, I hate flora and fauna. I was in it for the exercise so my eyes glazed over pretty quickly. We walked about two feet and smelled four plants. There are plants to cure every ailment: hangover, mosquito bites, toothaches, constipation. I was beginning to feel a little ill myself…

But looking up from the medicinal plants are bushes and trees and leaves of white, orange, yellow and red flowers among towering trees all vying for attention with the medicine cabinet below, We were walking through the Golden Rock Estate, a sugar mill plantation from 1801-1815, the remnants of which are integrated into the buildings and grounds. An old in-ground windmill, we were told, is the highlight of the honeymoon suite – having the earth move takes on a whole new meaning…

So much greenery as to encapsulate every variation of the color in the largest box of Crayola crayons – and every shape and size of multiple leaves extracted from the world’s largest protractor. It’s like being in your own personal botanical garden. The entire setting is the very definition of romantic!

As we climbed higher and higher, however, I found myself longing for more medicinal plant information – urinary tract infection anyone?

So yes, most people coming to Nevis envision living by the following five rules: 1. Pack several books.  2. Take a deep breath, exhale, relax.  3. Order a rum drink.  4. Try to forget what’s happening in the rest of the world.  5.  Repeat.  But be open to my own Rule #6. Be prepared to have a hell of a lot of fun!

For more information, visit the Nevis Island website, Nisbet Plantation Pub Crawl and Funky Monkey Tours and Rentals.

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