Emerald islet
Story and photos by Ted Alan Stedman
The mandarin sun gently sinks into a sapphire sea as pelicans dive bomb the languid shoreline for fish dinners. I’ve already devoured mine, a wahoo fillet at Sunshine’s Bar and Grill on the island of Nevis, and I'm downing the bar's “legendary” Killer Bee – a sort of get-acquainted tourist tonic that purportedly helps landlubbers ease into a mental state Nevisians call limin’. And what mainlanders would no doubt call chillin’.
Rum? Island hooch? “What’s IN this thing?” I ask the taciturn bartender after a single swig that relaxes my eyelids.
“Our Killer Bee recipe is secret. If I told you I would, ahh, have to kill you?” he chortles with a teasing uptick in his voice. In other words, don’t ask, don’t tell. Or in the Nevisian scheme of things, who cares?
The promise of limin’ like the 11,000 locals is a major reason tourists land on Nevis, the smaller, less commercial sister island in the Federation of St. Kitts and Nevis. Its relaxed, au’ natural attitude is renowned. You won’t find disgorging cruise ships, strip malls, mega resorts or casinos here. Quirky building codes prohibit structures taller than palm trees. Colorfully painted “Friendly” buses roaming the island roads stop almost anywhere, anytime, for hailing riders. “Monkey Crossing” signs alert motorists to troops of vervet monkeys, descendents of pets brought by British colonists, while goats – a few ending up on the menu – wander and graze freely.
The real seduction, though, is Nevis' unsullied beauty. From sea, this lush Leeward Island resembles a perfect conical volcano, rising into the clouds like a rough-cut emerald crowned in ivory. When Christopher Columbus first sighted the island in 1493, he christened it “Nuestra Senora de las Nieves” (Our Lady of the Snows) in recognition of the nearly continuous mantle of clouds that envelope 3,232-foot Nevis Peak.
Nevis has its share of sun worshipers and hearty partiers, sure, but it’s more than just another day at the beach here. The reef diving is some of the best in the Caribbean, with more than 70 named sites ringing the island. Shoreside, environmental laws have preserved sizeable swaths of open space laced with public trails, amounting to a near eco-paradise for bicyclists, hikers and horseback riders.
It all sounds like healthy good fun, so I atone for my limin’ ways by first climbing the island’s signature peak. “Good morning. You ready?” says Jim Johnson, my chipper Top to Bottom hiking guide and former Nevis Peace Corp ecology volunteer who I meet near the Zetlands trailhead.
We thread through Sea of Ferns, an enchanting elfin landscape with a Miracle-Gro iridescence. As the trail steepens to a slippery 45 degrees, we use a series of fixed ropes to hoist ourselves upward, hand-over-hand. Meanwhile, Jim brandishes his considerable botanical prowess. “These here are 35-foot tree ferns, the largest in the Caribbean. Over there are giant leaf philodendrums, and see these tiny orchids?” He calls out plants that are edible, plants that burn, plants that “invigorate” like Viagra. A three-hour slog later, we gain the summit, smothered in a mist that creates an eerie atmosphere worthy of an Edgar Alan Poe composition.
Later, I savor a replenishing lunch in the quaint, compact capital of Charlestown and stumble into the Museum of Nevis History, the birthplace of Alexander Hamilton, the first United States treasurer and Nevis’ most esteemed historical son. Pre-Columbian artifacts and household items used during Colonial times are on display, and I get the sense that even during austere times, life on Nevis must have been a Shangri-La for its day.
After this history lesson I drive around the island on the “wrong” side of the road – the left lane, as British custom has it here. The 21-mile circuitous route is picturesque and enlightening, with a kind of time traveler dimension into the old Caribbean. I first visit the roofless, stone block ruins of Cottle Church, built by plantation owner John Cottle in 1824 and considered historic because it’s the first Caribbean Angelican church where African slaves and whites worshiped together. In the earthy Gingerland district, I catch the unique whiff of goat water stew, a local mainstay of goat meat, plantains, potatoes and breadfruit, then I slow down for the “Monkey Crossing” signs. And sure enough, on cue I see a few furry members of a troop, including a piggybacking baby, all looking wildly alert with huge, intelligent-looking brown saucer eyes that would put Bambi to shame. Goats and feral donkeys are wandering the roadsides as well, charming and challenging reminders that Caribbean driving has its own distinctive flavor.
The winding road skirts the coast, and peeking out of dense foliage are several overgrown British plantation mills, the vestiges of the prosperous sugar cane industry cultivated by colonial settlers who arrived on Nevis in 1628. Of a possible dozen or more old plantations, seven are beautifully restored, operating inns such as Golden Rock, Montpelier – and my evening’s destination – The Hermitage.
Even if you don’t book lodging at The Hermitage, visiting the estate – for dinner, cocktails, horseback riding or just to see it – is almost a compulsory part of a trip to Nevis. Bill Murray, John Travolta, Wesley Snipes, Sting and other celebs have all stayed at here, and it’s easy to see why. Its hilly location is right beneath Nevis Peak, surrounded by lush rainforest, and the colorful dollhouse guest cottages are classic Colonial. After a short horseback ride arranged through its stables, I enjoy an incredible dinner (roasted garlic and spinach soup with lobster dumplings and tomato basil butter) on the veranda of the 300-year-old Great House, built of insect-proof ironwood and said to be the oldest wooden building still standing in the Caribbean.
Something else to keep in mind on Nevis is “island time.” Make an appointment then throw away your watch, because timekeeping is a function of the sun, the tides and desires, not a Timex.
“Sorry mon,” says Reginald Michael Douglas, my dreadlocked mountain bike guide with Windsurf ‘n’ Mountainbike Nevis who’s tardy for our scheduled ride the next morning. “I was lying in bed and knew I had something to do today, but forgot,” he says sheepishly. (Hmm, didn’t I see him drinking Killer Bees the other night?) But no matter, and I shrug my shoulders in a limin’ kind of way as we mount our bikes.
Bicycling on Nevis is just about anything you want it to be. Easy or near vertical, quick or enduring, through small country hamlets, rainforest corridors and more. And on today’s ride we seem to see it all – rounding each bend is like turning the pages of a National Geographic. Pedaling from Oualie Beach into the Garner’s Estates district, we ride past inquisitive monkeys, grazing goats and donkeys feasting in the outdoor supermarket. We roll over blankets of grass and along narrow paths festooned with trailside tropical flowers and ferns. In time we pull into Fountain, a bucolic village of small pastel-colored houses with frontporch shops, hand-woven fish traps and nets drying on fences. “Try this, it will give you energy,” says Reggie, as he offers some drink I hope isn’t another Killer Bee. And he’s right. It’s some kind of ginseng cola, and despite the heavy humidity, within minutes the idea of peddling another 5 hilly trail miles doesn’t sound bad.
To visit Nevis without playing in the alluring, nearly tepid water would be sacrilegious – at least squanderous, considering the bounty of surrounding dive sites, reefs and sea life.
I sign-on with Scuba Safaris for two early morning dives in hopes of a few memorable Jacques Cousteau moments. Our first drop, Coral Garden, takes our small group to 60 feet, and we’re treated to encounters with colorful, coral-chomping parrot fish, menacing-looking barracuda and a kaleidoscope of small reef fish. At Monkey Shoals we drop to just 40-feet, and between the shallow, sun-drenched depth and white reflecting sand bottom, the underwater world is illuminated like a jewelry case. We’re lucky enough to spot a six-foot nurse shark lounging beneath a shady ledge, then see two massive lobsters that managed to avoid fishermen’s’ traps for over a decade.
The following several days go by in a pleasant blur I attribute to the Nevis notion of island time. I find a tour of the Botanical Garden of Nevis to be magnificent, where a seven-acre collection of palms, cactuses, roses, orchids and other botanicals creates an idealized Caribbean dreamscape that’s a wonderful place to simply relax.
My guided snorkeling tour qualifies as exquisite and educational, thanks to Barbara Witman, oceanographer, guide and founder of Under the Sea Sealife Education Centre. Barbara is one of the most enthusiastic and fun guides I’ve ever met, and her tours literally start with a hands-on show-and-tell session in her shop’s aquarium tanks. “Ever feel a sea hare or a brittle star?” she asks our group before our shallow open water excursion to Majors Bay off nearby St. Kitts. Just hovering beneath the calm surface we spot drums, yellow tail damsels, blue tangs, moray eels and an octopus before the day is done, proving that things can get quite fishy even if you’re not a certified diver.
My last night in Nevis and I succumb to the urge to party. But this time it’s without Killer Bees – just a few local beers and listening to the spirited jam band sessions held on Caribbean Night at the Oualie Beach Hotel. It looks like a staging ground for Parrotheads waiting for the next Jimmy Buffet concert. Everybody’s grinning, everybody’s happy and carefree – it’s a world unto itself. I guess this is limin’.
More info: Visit the Nevis Tourism Authority, www.nevisisland.com.