Sunday 21st March (Lini’s Journal)
Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Mon 29 Mar 2010 17:21
All set and raring to go we tied Shovell to the very convenient
low, floating dinghy pontoon alongside the ferry dock. Day trippers
had already started to arrive and I feared the worst. Just at the end
of the dock however there were numerous car and scooter rentals, all
with vehicles to spare. We donned our helmets and jumped on a funky
red scooter, our transport for the day: What fun! We had no idea where
we were going but the island was so small we couldn’t possibly get too
lost (I hoped!).
We took the coast road south towards the capital of Grand Bourg and
immediately the island had a different feel about it; very
agricultural with miles and miles of sugar cane and animals grazing
everywhere else. Dominica was the first island where the odd cow or
two could be seen grazing but here field after green field was fenced
with cattle, oxen, goats, pigs and chickens in abundance. I wondered
if beef was a major export as a huge abattoir sat just outside the
town. The town centre had a sleepy Sunday morning feel about it,
probably because most of the inhabitants were at the church which was
overflowing with locals singing and dancing. At the crossroads an
elderly lady with a smile a foot wide was singing along and jigging
around to the church band while she waved to us. Just a short drive
along the coast road we came to the stunning beaches of Capesterre so
reminiscent of Tobago Cays with its turquoise water and green reef.
Who forgot the snorkel gear? Doh! We stopped for a while to cool off
in the clear water, run our toes through the soft white sand and take
in the postcard views before continuing our adventure.
A notice on the wall in the hire shop said Marie Galante is said to
be an island of one hundred windmills but they apparently have one
hundred and six. I wouldn’t like to say whether these include the old
stone ruins of those from times gone by or just the high tech versions
of today, but either way the wind has certainly been a source of power
for some time. Lini the biker chic hung on tightly to Simon as we took
a steep, rocky track between the wind turbines and the coast with
spectacular views over the east coast of the island. From the top the
road returned to tarmac, I breathed again and we took a very long
stretch of road through unchanging scenery of sugar cane to one side
and grazing animals between the odd house to the other.
With beautiful beaches along the north coast it was not a good time
for the camera battery to die: Let’s hope the memories will never die.
A perfect island with solitary palm tree sat just off one beach with
pale blue water melting into white foam on the palest pink sand. Ahh!
It looked so good we decided to try and pick up something for a picnic
and return for another dip. To say we were lucky was an understatement
that for one, there was anywhere open at all on a Sunday lunchtime
this being a French Island, and secondly we managed to buy the last
baguette at a boulangerie, the remainder of some fruit from the market
vendors just leaving and some cheese from a funny little general
store. We returned to paradise and sprawled in the shade of a
manchineel tree looking out to an array of blues before wallowing in
the warm water.
The cloud was now thickening and rain threatened for a while.
Donning clothes and helmets our trusty scooter sped us back to Saint
Louis where the hire shop was still closed for lunch: We should have
known it would be a three hour lunch break followed by siesta on a
French island! We retreated from the fierce sun into the shady garden
of Henri’s Café and chilled with cool beer and coffee until we bid
farewell to our shiny red scooter and a another fab day out.
New tactics in the war on fish tonight I thought and rummaged in
the fridge for bacon fat I’d saved for just such an occasion. Si took
his book to bed, I took my line and bait to the stern with fishes
jumping all around. No surprises, an hour or so later I sulkily went
to bed.