Now seems like a perfect time to mention a fantastic day I spent on the island of Barbuda.
I say perfect time, because as soon as hurricane Irma has passed, the Island nation of Antigua & Barbuda will need tourism to return. The income from tourism will help in rebuilding the infrastructure, homes and lives of those affected by the storm.
Maybe, these few words on Wild Geese will encourage you to visit. (Actually, it is a long post, but I hope it is one which keeps you entertained and makes you want to trace my footsteps.)
I hope so.
I spent just over two weeks in the island country known as Antigua & Barbuda.
The hotel of choice at that time was the ‘Grand Royal Antiguan beach resort‘ at Deep Bay beach. It is built between the sea and a lagoon. I am sorry to say, by all reports, the hotel has deteriorated since my stay and I believe it is undergoing some necessary renovations by its new owners.
Grand Royal Antiguan
The official line is “We invite you to indulge in the luxury of our 40-acre, tropical garden estate-a secluded hideaway bordered by a protected cove and ½ mile of glistening beach. This Caribbean beach hotel sits on Antigua’s western coast, nestled into a hillside at breath-taking Deep Bay.”
Even though this hotel has a wonderful location and was considered one of the best places to stay at the time of my visit. I cannot suggest you take a chance of staying there now. Not until the renovations are complete at least.
The good thing is there are so many hotels, to suit all pockets and all tastes on the island, you will be spoilt for choice.
You should still visit Deep Bay though, because the far end of Deep Bay beach turns into the Five Islands peninsula, on which is Goat Hill, where Fort Barrington stands.
Fort Barrington was one of the first lines of defence for St. John’s, reporting ship movements to nearby Rat Island, via flag and light signals. While Fort Barrington was officially only a look out post, it saw the most action of any fort on Antigua, being captured and liberated from the French, going back as far as 1652.
The Fort as it stands today was built in 1779 and is one of the best ruins to explore. Not only does its position atop Goat Hill provide a short but invigorating climb, there are also several rooms to explore, and the view from the top is unmatched for its sea view — blue sea stretches for miles.
BUT… (yep, a ‘but’. Those who read my blogs know all about my ‘buts’)
I’ll say again… BUT… I am not writing about Antigua today, I am writing about one of its sister islands, Barbuda where I decided to visit, after hearing a few things about the island, including it having one of the few pink beaches in the world.
Being this close to somewhere as special as a pink beach, we felt it would be stupid not to set eyes upon such a wonder. The ‘we’ in this instance was my mother & father in-law, my son, my wife and I.
A quick phone call from the hotels concierge booked us an early morning flight, the following day.
Morning came and we indulged in a lazy breakfast before setting off, in a taxi, for V. C. Bird International Airport. The Taxi, by the way, was a rather rickety, rattling mini-bus type vehicle, which had seen many better days. BUT… (another one), it was in far better condition than many others, including the one we took from the airport on arrival.
Remember, I travel independently and rarely use travel agents or tour companies. I feel one gets a lot closer to the real world exploring this way, in contrast to the cotton wool, candy-coated falseness of contrived agency tours. Which leave you with a distorted and falsified impression of the places you visit.
As we dawdled into the airport, one of two staff members, sitting behind a small table, temporarily halts her conversation, holds out her hand and says. “Passports.”
Glancing at each other and shrugging in unison, we all say, in perfect harmony “passports?”
The woman looks at the frowns on our faces, before her expression changes, as it dawns on her we are in the domestic area of the airport, not the international departure lounge.
I spoke up. “We are going to Barbuda.”
“Oh, yes” she says, looking at the bemused expression of her college. “Barbuda… same country… you do not need a passport.”
She raises a hand in embarrassment as her co-worker bursts out laughing.
“I am so sorry, off you go” she says ushering us into the airport, towards the departure area.
(Due to differing world circumstances, I think you now need to carry your passports when island hopping in the Caribbean… shame.)
Unbeknown to us, this was an indication of the way the day was to pan out.
We were only on a day trip, so carried very little with us. The girls had their larger sized handbags with the necessary hand wipes, sun protection lotions and whatnots women always lug around for no reason at all.
We men, travelling lighter, had our cargo shorts pockets loaded with as little as possible. I had a SLR camera, sunglasses. My father in law a small case holding a video camera. That was it. We could see no reason to cart anything more with us.
We found the departure gate from where our plane was to leave.
As we arrived, a uniformed member of the airport staff came to us and explained, as the plane which flew from V.C. Bird international airport, Antigua, the airport were at, to Codrington International airport, Barbuda, our destination, was only capable of seating eight passengers, the plane was full.
She pointed to the runway. Our plane, being full, was given authority to leave early and was racing down the runway. We watched as it took off and flew away.
“Not to worry” she said. Another plane was being readied and the pilot was on his way to the airport. As soon as they were organised, they would come and fetch us. She estimated about twenty more minutes from now. In the meantime, just relax, have a coffee, a beer, some rum. Or all three.
With that she happily skipped away, leaving us with a wide, bright smile.
I do not know how many airports or airlines have pulled a plane from a hanger and readied it for flight for you because the one you booked was full?
Maybe, it is something which happens regularly in your world, but for me, this was a first.
True to their word. In thirty minutes, we were sat in an airplane and beginning to taxi to the runway. There were nine passengers in total, on the eight-passenger seater plane, much to the delight of my young son, who was seated in the co-pilots seat so all the passengers could travel on one flight.
(Don’t read that bit if it is against aviation regulations.)
Soon we were in the air and my attention was drawn to the plastic hoses dangling from the engines and held fast by cable grips. I did fleetingly wonder about the liquid dripping from the ends, before considering if we would make the entire twenty-minute flight.
Then again, as we seemed to be flying only a few feet above the sea, I guessed it would not be a problem landing on the calm blue waters if needed. These considerations were from the viewpoint of having a few hours of flying lessons under my belt. The main difference being, this plane was twice as long as anything I had piloted, plus it was laden with passengers, a pile of boxes and a few crates of live chickens, so it would weigh an awful lot more than the light aircraft I was learning in.
By the time I speculated about the possibilities of dying in an air disaster in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, or which fictional novel I could weave this journey into should I survive, we were descending to the grandly named Codrington International airport.
Codrington is a family name inexorably linked to Barbuda. The town of Codrington was founded by Christopher Codrington and his brother John in 1685. It is the only residential centre on the island and the site of Barbuda’s airport, hence the name.
I have been to some rather strange and some rather surprising airports around the globe. Not one of which prepared me for Codrington International.
The airport consists of one small brick built hut. There are two doorways. One facing the runway, the other, on the side of the building, is the exit.
Codrington International Airport
At one end is a short Formica covered desk where a young lady stands to welcome you, or to say goodbye on departure.
In the centre, there are six plastic chairs. Three facing the exit door, the other three have their backs against the first three, facing in the opposite direction. Three are designated, in theory, as departure the other three as arrivals
That is it, in total.
The entire building is about the size of my lounge, at home.
As we were exiting the airport, the girl behind the desk, who was collecting her handbag ready to go home. She did not need to be here again, until we were leaving the island tonight. Said we should wait, because George was on his way.
“Who is George?” we enquired.
“George is George” she said, as if we should have known. “He is coming in the car.”
“What car?” I asked.
“The car… like a taxi. He takes all the visitors about. He will be here soon.” Pulling the airport door closed, but not locking it, she scuttled off, crossing the road and disappearing around a corner.
The five of us were left standing beside an empty road and an empty airport; with absolutely no idea of what to do, or where to go.
Where the other passengers, the pilot, or anybody else had disappeared to, was a mystery.
So, we waited for George.
George arrived in a large 4×4, Jeep/Land Rover type SUV vehicle. I did not take much notice of the model. But once inside the air conditioning was wonderfully chilling after standing on a dusty verge for ten minutes, in blazing sun with no shade. I think the temperature was hovering around 40 degrees.
We asked George to take us to the pink beach. After all, this is why we made the journey.
“Oh, no” said George. “I’ll take you there later, you do not want to spend all day on that beach.
My wife dug me in the ribs with her elbow, stimulating me to make a comment to the contrary. George was having nothing of it however.
The first thing we needed to do he said, before we contemplated any beach, was to take a boat trip and see the frigate birds.
We gave up trying to argue with George and decided we would enjoy the day by simply ‘going with the flow’.
I have never seen frigate birds in the wild before, the way the males puff out their chest pouches is amazing and seen from the water, in a small boat, allowed us to creep in close to the reed beds and mangroves, giving a clear view of their nesting sites and perches.
On our return from bird watching, George was waiting and whisked us off again, this time to a beach, but not the pink one, which I was now considering could simply be a myth, a trap to capture the unwary traveller… but that was just my muse playing up.
Back in the Jeep we passed one of Tommy Hilfiger’s houses. He was not at home, or I might have popped in for a coffee and a pee. Oh well, next time.
We arrived at the longest and most deserted beach I have ever seen.
Some time ago, George and a few islanders, erected a small open building made from driftwood and fisherman’s netting, to provide a shaded area, so the beaches few visitors could shelter from the sun when they needed.
George deposited a cool box containing iced water and some fruits and mumbled a suggestion he would return after lunch… I think that is what he said anyway.
This is how I found myself on the 17 mile long Access beach, probably the most beautiful beach in the entire world.
Just along from where we entered the shoreline is the K club, which was Princess Diana’s favourite ‘get-away’. A destination many of the rich and famous escaped too. Mostly for its isolation and relative inaccessibility. The 251 – acre, small luxury resort was opened by Mariuccia Mandelli, founder of Krizia fashion label in 1990.
At the time of writing this post the K club lies abandoned, it closed 16 years later. But Robert DeNiro and James Packer want to utilise the site for a new, high class project. Both men have aims to help re-build Barbuda after hurricane Irma, so there is hope yet.
Honestly, the journey to Barbuda is worth it just to be on this beach. Miles and miles of pristine soft silver sand. I walked forever, before turning back and re-joining my family. For the hours, we spent on Access beach we never saw another person, excluding George, when he came to collect us.
Next stop… the Pink Beach… so, it really does exist.
Now why, you may ask, have I been babbling on about this beach. Simply because it is such an exceptional and fascinating sight.
It is difficult to compare this beach with Access beach, because both are matchless for their beauty and these are only two of the 365 beaches on the island, that is one for each day of the year.
But I fell in love with this beach the moment I stepped onto its 8 miles of pink silky sands. That is eight miles of deserted oceanfront, which stretches from Spanish Point to Palmetto Point.
The sand glows like rosé champagne, thanks to the crushed coral in the mix. We spent the entire afternoon swimming and strolling along this beach and never saw another soul. I used the powerful telephoto lens of my camera to scan both ways along the shoreline. There was not a single person as far as I could see in either direction.
I hope to return to Barbuda in the future. Maybe stay here instead of on Antigua. We shall see.
Too soon it was time to leave. George returned us to the airport, the young girl wished us a pleasant flight. This time we had the entire plane to ourselves, for all the twenty minutes it took to return to Antigua.
As we wandered out of A. C. Bird airport and looked around for our driver, who was due to collect us and take us back to the hotel, my father-in -law felt a tap upon his shoulder.
It was the pilot of the plane. “You left this, John” he said, holding out the bag containing the video camera.
My father-in-law thanked him and thanked him again, for flying us safely back.
I could not help but believe this was something which could only happen here, in such a peaceful and laid-back community. I mean, how many times have you had the pilot of your airplane return your forgotten luggage to you, outside of an international airport?
I think, this trip and the string of experiences we encountered that day, (of which I have abridged in this post), is indicative of these amazing islands and the wonderful people of Antigua and Barbuda.
This is a place which should feature near the top of everybody’s bucket list. But I am glad it does not, because tourism in any great quantity would spoil the pristine nature of the islands. What is needed is a balanced quantity of visitors, visitors who acknowledge and respect the fine balance of natural beauty Barbuda offers.
I hope you will become a responsible tourist to Antigua and Barbuda, especially after the violence of hurricane Irma. Nature will recover, slowly at its own pace, but the inhabitants may need your support to do the same.
Thanks for reading Wild Geese.
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Barbuda Now seems like a perfect time to mention a fantastic day I spent on the island of Barbuda.
