When you take a Caribbean cruise, you should know what you’ve signed up for. This is the land of laidback, and you’re on island time. Don’t bring your iPhone. Or your laptop. If you need them, you’re doing something wrong.
This itinerary is the road to relaxation, and when you’re doing it on a premium cruise line like Silversea, no need goes unmet. It was mid-March, the perfect time to enjoy those trade winds, the tail end of whale watching, and the mélange of Caribbe culture, from Spanish Dominican Republic and British Tortola to Francophiled St. Barts and Dutch St. Maarten. Fortunately, our stops were not the overdeveloped, touristy ones. Rather this cruise chose the ports of call less taken—with few resorts, shopping malls and other distractions from the enjoyment of Mother Nature.
And that, there was plenty of: pristine mountains, the results of underwater volcanic activity, paired with gentle waters and colorful cultures that blend African and native heritages with colonial European ones. Departing from Ft. Lauderdale, voyage 5407 on the Silver Spirit first pulled up to Grand Turk, in the Turks & Caicos—population a whopping 3,700 souls. And while several of the islands we visited claim that Columbus landed there, only Grand Turk can say John Glenn splashed down here after his historic orbit of Earth!
A Silversea-arranged snorkeling expedition took us by speedboat to nearby Cotton Cay, where the coral reefs are aglow with undersea fans, anemones, brain coral and fish of every shape and color, including a 6-foot barracuda! While only 7 miles long and about a mile wide, Grand Turk is renowned for its deep coral walls. The skipper of our speedboat, Capt. Lucky, offered to take those willing and able on a hike of the rocky island. The catch? His boat was anchored 60 yards offshore, so we had to swim the distance carrying our snorkeling gear while crew members Stump and Manuel swam ashore with a plastic trash bag containing our sneakers.
The exertion of swimming and snorkeling was richly rewarded later by dinner onboard the ship, which at 540 guests is intimate compared to the mega cruisers carrying
thousands. Faced with a choice between the main dining room on Deck 4, the Italian-leaning La Terrazza on Deck 7 and several boutique options, we chose to start our cruise experience with the most exclusive meal—at the French Le Champagne, a Relais & Chateau restaurant—then work our way through all the others on subsequent evenings. The seven-course gourmet experience did not disappoint. How could it when the amuse bouche alone contained scallops on pureed pumpkin, foie gras and lobster with porcini puree? And if that doesn’t impress, surely the pre and post desserts will (chocolate-covered lemon sorbet sliders and French crepes, respectively).
But eating is not the highlight of cruising—or not the only one. Samana in the Dominican Republic was stop two on our tour of paradise. Remote and pristine, the town is
on the Spanish-speaking side of Hispaniola, the island this country shares with Haiti. It may be one of the poorest in the Caribbean, but it is rich in natural resources, which we got to see firsthand during a day trip into Los Haitises National Park, a landscape of rainforests and mangroves.
Lush with coconut palms (which we were cautioned to avoid, given that nearly 600 people a year die by coconut conks to the head!), the park is a nesting place for frigate birds, herons, turkey vultures and more. The waters around Samana are known as a breeding and birthing ground for humpback whales, which lucky visitors can hope to see from November to March. Our day guide, Inez—a transplant from Amsterdam who visited 25 years ago and just never left—explained that whales migrate here during the winter months, when it’s too cold in the north for their calves. After giving birth, they make their way back to Northern Europe and Newfoundland, but not until the calves put some fat on their baleen by drinking 50 gallons of mother’s milk daily and gaining 100 pounds a day!
Los Haitises (which means ‘the highlands’) also has remarkable caverns created by water erosion and filled with stalactites and stalagmites, where you can easily imagine pirates burying their loot. The original function of these hideaways was religious ritual by the native Taino peoples. Carbon-dated cave drawings depict the medicine man (spiritual leader), the owl (symbol of death) and the bat (symbol of life). But there was no need to worry about real bats hidden in the round bores above our heads. Inez explained the critters left for a quieter home once the tourists came.
If I’d actually done anything to deserve it, I might not have been so amazed by the steaming bubble bath—complete with rose petals along the rim of the tub—that greeted me upon return to my cabin. This was the brainchild of our butler, Allan. Yes, each cabin is assigned a butler who attends to the shining of your shoes, the restocking of your mini bar and the fulfillment of your every whim—which in our case was a daily pot of tea in the cabin at 4 p.m. and a tray of camembert and crackers—white tablecloth apparently mandatory.
Cruising overnight, we awoke to the stunning coastline of Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, an area immortalized by its pirate past. Our day trip would be to nearby Virgin Gorda (‘the fat virgin’), an out-island with remarkable boulder formations and hidden coves. While the 45-minute trip there by speedboat was exhilarating, there is pretty much nothing to prepare you for the gasp-inducing beauty of these turquoise waters swirling between elephant boulders just steps from the shore. Our guide,
Amaren (who also answers to Capt. Jack), offered to lead us to the remote Devil’s Bay, with this challenge: If you haven’t been to Devil’s Bay, you can’t really say you’ve been to Virgin Gorda.
The only problem is, they don’t call it Devil’s Bay for nothing. The trip involves a slippery and low trek through, over and around tightly wedged boulders, alternately squat walking, clinging to guide ropes and praying. But when you arrive, you are rewarded with unparalleled beaches that will forever be imprinted in your memory. After splashing like carefree kids on summer vacation, we proceeded to a rustic beachside café—open air—that served up a lunch of curried chicken, dirty rice and beans, grilled fish, Key Lime pie and, of course, rum punch.
Our penultimate port of call: Gustavia, St. Barthelemy, or St. Barts, is known as the Riviera of the Caribbean. That refers to its colonial heritage, French, and its standard of living, expensive. Here you can lunch beachside for about $120, or shop, if your credit limit is, well, unlimited. Sans those options, boating is the preferred activity, judging from the yachts dotting the harbor. Luckily, Silversea offered a Sailing St. Barts excursion that allowed us to relax like the rich and famous, if only for a day.
Boarding a glorious catamaran sailboat, 21 of us sprawled and sat, sipped and nibbled as the wind whipped our sun-soaked bodies for three hours. By the time Nicolas, our one-man crew, anchored in the sheltered bay of Pointe de Colombier, it was clear no one felt compelled to get up, although we’d signed on to snorkel and swim there. Some dove in, swimming the 50 yards or so to shore and splashing around before returning to the sluggish comfort of the sailboat. By then, the sky had darkened and the sea swelled in the face of an impending rainstorm. But that did little to faze our rum-, beer- and sailing-induced nirvanic state.
Back on board, we had one more stop, St. Martin, the most ‘commercial’ of our ports, and the place to do a little shopping. Here Caribbean dolls, pirate-themed loot, rum, guavaberry and the ever-present duty-free luxuries tempt cruisers with their last-chance allure before they have to leave paradise for home. St. Martin is also known for having 37 beaches on its 43 miles of coastline—a pretty impressive statistic.
The final night on board ship is a blend of mixed emotions: fond farewells to staff and newly made best friends, a mourning period for the lifestyle to which we had become accustomed (et tu, Allan?) and a sober reminder that all good things must come to an end. At least until the next cruise.
[choosing your cruise line]
>> Prices fluctuate wildly, but so do amenities. For example, on Silversea all beverages are included in the ticket price—unlimited wine, alcohol and espresso drinks—and tipping is unnecessary.
>> Ship sizes run the gamut. Our Silver Spirit, maximum passengers 540, makes embarking, disembarking and everything else easier and more pleasant than on the mega-ships, which carry up to 6,000 passengers.
>> Cabin size matters. Our standard suite on Silversea was 376 square feet and had a private balcony opening to the sea, walk-in closet two flat-screen TVs, shower and tub, Bulgari toiletries and movies on-demand.
[travel tips]
>> Bring—lip balm with SPF, Croakies for your sunglasses, water shoes and a good sun hat.
>> Pack—the islands are casual and you’ll be in a swimsuit and coverup most of the day.
Photos by Marc Weiner
