You’re Going to Need a Smaller Boat: Island Hopping in the Grenadines
We spent the morning loitering around the pier looking for a boat to take us across. The weather took a turn for the worse when we finally found a captain. Among his various gigs, he navigated his single-engine plane several times a week to Carriacou and loaded up with plastic fuel tanks for sale on Union Island, which lost its station. the only gasoline in a deadly explosion in 2020.
After a soggy ride through the waves, we docked with some relief and lined up at a dark customs warehouse, where we spent about an hour with restless yachts and local traders. local, sharing the rare feeling of queuing between tourists and residents. blurred.
After clearing customs, we cleared the port of entry Green Roof Hostel, furnished with old leather chairs and beds with mosquito nets, and venture out at dusk when the tree frogs whistle. We considered renting a scooter from Wayne’s Car Rental and Bar great variety, but videos by Caribbean hip-hop artists like the coffee and popcaan playing on a big screen there attracted us and instead we lingered late into the night drinking Carib beer.
The next morning, we hiked a steep trail to a jungle called the KIDO Foundation, established decades ago as an animal sanctuary and environmental school. Small pythons curled up in a hollow coconut shell feeder for birds, a colony of fruit bats hung from the ceiling in a conference room and a rescued one-winged hawk perched in a room-sized cage.
KIDO offers many types Volunteer travel opportunities, including patrols to protect turtle nesting sites. The group has planted tens of thousands of mangroves and offers a Green University after-school program that, among other projects, teaches students on the island how to nurture and grow native plants that are nearly extinct. wiped out by the colonists’ craving for exotic wood.
In the pre-dawn darkness the next day, we boarded the last ferry, to Grenada, known as the Spice Island for the production of nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon. To get there, the ship passed Kick ‘Em Jenny, an active underwater volcano that occasionally spews gas so dangerous that ships have to change course. Jenny didn’t kick that day.
In the warm breeze, facing back, we watched the Grenadines shrink into the pink horizon. The birds and falcons on the destroyer drifted across the deck, sometimes perching on the radar array before rushing towards the meal. The four sides, the undulating sea, the color of mercury. For two hours, the drowsy passenger dozed and swayed. On our last trip from county to county on land, everything – water, flora, animals and people – seemed to be living in sync.