Dateline: February 8, 2014
Every once in a while the universe will send you a gratifying confirmation that you are not a complete idiot, (or at least that you have taken the right fork in the road, just this one time). We got one of these delightful cosmic messages at the airport in Antigua upon departure to St. Kitts-Nevis when we learned that our fellow Dominica-bound LIAT passengers were still holed up at El Cheapo Airport Hotel waiting for the weather to calm. Three days later! (Thank you, Jesus! for giving us the good sense to stuff Dominica entirely and loll about at our final destos an extra day each instead.) Note: everything you will hear about Dominica is positive, and fans of the island border on fanaticism when describing the pristine, unspoiled natural beauty of the place. Unfortunately we were told that it is a fairly common occurrence that you can’t get there due to prohibitive wind conditions, so bear that in mind when making your travel plans. (It remains the least developed of all the Caribbean isles, perhaps for good reason.)
Feeling smug (because we managed to retain our wheelies again as carry-ons) we approached the gate (now very, very, very early for our flight to St. Kitts-Nevis) where a gorgeous young man in a starched white shirt and creased black trousers approached and inquired politely if we were Mr. and Mrs. Soandso. Not one to miss out on an opportunity I replied, “That depends. Would we want to be them?” Yes, it turns out, we would. The Soandsos were meeting their private jet captain (the handsome child who looked a lot like Justin Timberlake, now that I think about it) for their charter flight. Ah, so that is how the “other half” lives (and avoids the inconveniences of public transit and Economy class). Oh well. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s private Learjet, eh?
The final leg of our Caribbean adventure, the dual-island nation of St. Kitts-Nevis is the smallest country in the Americas, both in terms of size and population. Together about 53,000 inhabitants populate these tiny islands which are separated by a narrow – two mile – ocean channel that takes about 45 minutes to cross by public ferry. (I’m sure the Soansos take the chopper over – five minutes, tops.) The rest of us will need to know that the international airport is on St. Kitts and it has daily service in and out to both Miami and New York. British Air also flies in a couple times a week from London. (Probably why a goodly percentage of our fellow tourist types on St. Kitts were from England.)
Like the other Caribbean countries we visited this one has the archeological remnants of an early “archaic” people who never got around to making ceramic eating utensils or planting crops. These primativos disappeared, nobody knows why, but eventually a more “evolved” society of agriculturalists moved in about the same time Christianity was getting going on the other side of the globe. As elsewhere in these parts, these guys (Arawak Indians) were ousted rather violently by the Caribs who themselves got a “hi-bye” from the Spanish in the late 1400s. (Columbus claimed the islands for Spain without any kind of permanent settlement. St. Kitts is actually the short form of St. Christopher.) Next up the French and British passed St. Kitts-Nevis back and forth for several centuries.
The colonial period of course meant slavery in a very big way, first, for St. Kitts’ brief and unsuccessful foray into tobacco exportation. (Tobacco was an instant failure; they simply couldn’t compete with Virginia in the States, even WITH slaves!) When tobacco cultivation gave way to sugar, the island became a monoculture producing nothing else for more than 350 years and dominating the agricultural picture until 2005 when the government owned Sugar Corp finally gave up the ghost. Today tourism is the economic mainstay. The majority of the current population on St. Kitts and Nevis are descendants of those early African slaves.
You can still circumnavigate the island on the centuries-old train tracks that moved the sugar cane from the fields, if that’s your thing, and, because a lot of the old plantation manors were bought and renovated as Inns and Hotels, you can opt for the luxury of staying at one of those instead of the big resorts like Marriott on St. Kitts or the Four Seasons on Nevis. We chose the former and we were really glad we did.
A little bit about our digs: Ottley’s Plantation Inn is owned and operated by an extended family of Americans who originally hail from somewhere in the Northeast. Perhaps they consult the January/February weather temperatures from “home” each morning and that is why they are so relentlessly cheerful, but a nicer more welcoming bunch of expat Yanks will be hard to locate anywhere. They had me at the “welcoming fresh fruit punch” at check in. Once an 18th century sugar plantation, the inn currently sits at the heart of 35 acres of sloping mountainside, completely surrounded by rain forest. A network of nature trails immediately adjacent to the main house offer glimpses of monkeys and more flora than would please a world class botanist. Marty, one of the principles, leads daily afternoon hikes and provides informative lectures to any comers. Like the love child of Carl Sagan and Bill Nye, the science guy, Marty’s love of all things Ottley’s Plantation make a simple walk through the forest a highlight of your day. I would say, to my utter amazement, I was captivated by his guided tour. (But, do put on the deet. Mosquitos galore.)
The main house is restored but not in a fussy way that inhibits your comfort. You don’t get the sense that the joint is a museum, it’s more like a step back in time to a truly gracious and welcoming hospitality. Our spacious room on the first floor looked out over the sweeping lawn down to the pool and restaurant pavilion and beyond that all the way to the sea. Just past the restaurant there are a number of newer stand-alone bungalows, each with its own private plunge pool and nothing but forest to interrupt your view down to the ocean. (These were obviously newer construction and beautiful and private but we wanted the “old plantation” factor that the main house provided.) Honeymooners might opt for privacy, though.
You are a good shuttle ride (provided once each day) down to the nearest beach, or into the town of Basseterre (where the ferry will take you over to Nevis) and there is rumored to be decent golf on the island. We somehow never felt the need to chase a tiny white ball around on acres of green manicured lawn, so on this we cannot accurately comment. Lots of our fellow tourists rented cars but, be forewarned, this is a place of dicey mountain roads and citizens who insist on driving on the wrong side of the road. Driving here is not an enterprise for the faint of heart.
Up at Ottley’s, other than the nature trails, there isn’t much to do other than bask in the sloth of utter relaxation, lie by the (quite nice and big enough to do laps) swimming pool, or get a massage up in the rainforest “spa” pavilion. The website boasts a tennis court, but, you wouldn’t see Roger Federer playing on it. And, we did have some laughs using the croquet set that you can check out from reception, but, I suspect that nobody goes to Ottley’s for the lawn sports. It looked as if there were some evidence of a nightlife in Basseterre, and there’s none at the inn, so be ready to pay for a taxi or manage the drive if you must do karaoke.
Otherwise, the restaurant on the premises suited us fine for 3 dinners, one lunch, and 3 brekkies. I would even say it was some of the best food in all of our Caribbean travels and definitely the nicest ambience. A perfectly decent wine selection and not outrageous, too. The only downer was the big table of loud, obnoxious Americans who had come up for dinner (on a junket) from the Marriott, on our last night there. (But you can hardly hold the establishment responsible for them. It did make us really happy that we hadn’t STAYED at the big M though. That much I will say.) I’d go back in a heartbeat to St. Kitts and Ottley’s but maybe next time I’d spend a night or two over on Nevis and I’d have Justin Timberlake fly me over.
