Sailing Vessel ile de Grace: Dominica

Mango Man, Dominica

On our way northward to St. Maarten, where we'll leave the boat for a few weeks to visit home, we spent some time in Dominica, one of the loveliest, least-developed islands in the Caribbean, and one that grabbed our hearts and souls. So many of the islands down here have been thoroughly Westernized, filled with cruise ships, all-inclusive resorts and chain restaurants. Dominica is one of the least-visited and least-populated islands in the Caribbean, with about 70,000 residents, and garnering less than one-half of the tourists of even Haiti. Its GDP per capita is one of the lowest in the Eastern Caribbean, in part the result of its decision to become independent in the late 1970s.

Crater lake, in the center of Dominica

One of the reasons for its lack of development is its geography: seven volcanos, no white sand beaches, mostly rain forest, and a forbidding topography.

Columbus crumpled up a piece of paper when he described the land to Queen Isabella, trying to convey the jaggedness of the island's valleys, gorges, and peaks. Dominica boasts the world's second-largest hot spring lake, and the near constant rainfall at its peaks fills the island's many rivers to their bursting points, year-round. These rivers tumble downwards hundreds of feet, creating spectacular waterfalls.

Jennifer, lower left, at Trafalgar Falls

The island is trying to capitalize on its principle asset: its mountains, rivers, hot springs, lakes, waterfalls, rain forests, and jungles. Eco-tourism, Caribbean-style, is the main attraction for outsiders, and for that, you need to hire a local guide, since the government essentially prohibits self-guided tours. We spent a day diving the waters of Dominica -- we were fortunate enough to see our first full-sized sea horse (Jennifer had spotted a pygmy sea horse in Indonesia), and, on our second dive, we swam among underwater volcanic vents, spewing boiling water into an already-warm coastal sea. While we usually engage a divemaster, Dominica requires you to hire one if you dive here; they've also cordoned off a lot of the coastline as marine reserves, to their credit.

Sea Bird, our river guide in Portsmouth

To hike in the mountains, you also need to hire a guide -- we hired Sea Cat, in the town of Roseau, the island's capital. Sea Cat -- whose birth name is Octavius, took his nom-de-guerre from the local name for octopus -- sea cat. We spent a few nights moored off Sea Cat's dock, and a day touring the inland. In a reminder of global geo-politics, we learned from Sea Cat that not only had the Chinese funded the construction of the impressive local cricket stadium, but also that his daughter was in China, attending veterinary school on a scholarship. After leaving Roseau, we headed up the coast to the tiny village of Portsmouth, and engaged the services of Sea Bird -- no relation -- as we went up the only navigable river in Dominica to check out the island's abundant bird life.

Freshwater stream, Dominica

Like Sea Cat and Sea Bird, the other water taxis and tour guides usually take on memorable names. In Portsmouth, there was also Providence (on whom one could surely rely), and Lawrence of Arabia. Sail boats also have interesting names; so imagine our chuckle when we heard the following hail one blustery Pooh morning: "Lawrence of Arabia, Lawrence of Arabia, this is Christopher Robin, please come back."

The island is not immune to the lure of the West; a number of the scenes in the second Pirates of the Caribbean were filmed here. Happily to these sailors, those sites have been largely left to fade back into the jungle -- a few years after filming, no evidence remains, and the sites have not been exploited for Pirate-tourism.

Dominica seemed to us most like the islands we fell in love with in the Pacific -- wild, remote, and still filled with a sense of exploration. Below, some more pictures of this delightful island nation.