I love to tell this story about my holiday on the beautiful tropical Island of Tobago lying only twenty-one miles NE of its big sister Island of Trinidad. Even though its just a small island, twenty-six miles long by nine miles wide, I have big and wonderful memories of Tobago. I was delighted to see that the island was more British than my home town of Atherton in the UK. Tobagonians drove on the LHS of the road; sent their kids to school in spotlessly clean and starched uniforms and served meat and potato pies which they had re-named “Rotis”. Having lots of sun and very little rain, it was England in reverse.
The Turtle Beach Hotel situated on the west coast was paradise. One night in May, I was awakened by a gentle knock on my door. A member of the hotel staff asked me if I would like to quietly observe giant sea turtles laying their eggs on the beach. I recognized this as a once in a lifetime opportunity. I was asked not to bring my camera nor my flash light. There must have been forty guests watching these magnificent sea creatures from a safe distance. Everyone was dead quiet. The only noise was that of the waves breaking against the beach. No-one stirred until all seven of these turtles had finished their task and had returned to the sea. It was an awe-inspiring experience.
I met a young businessman just starting to rent motorcycles to tourists. He only had three. Of course, being a motorcycle enthusiast myself I rented one for a few days to explore the island. I was over the moon. I couldn't believe that I was riding through the coastal towns of Scarborough, Roxborourgh, Charlotteville and Speyside. Occasionally, I would go inland to discover remote villages nestled in the hills. The local inhabitants were warm and friendly although half a dozen barking dogs escorted me through one village trying to snap at my ankles as a rode by. “WOW! ...Life doesn't get any better than this” I chuckled to myself, as I put on some throttle and left them behind.
The most noteworthy of my experiences on my first trip however was my excursion to the Nylon Pool off the coast of Pigeon Point on the SW corner of the Island. I had no idea what to expect. I joined about a dozen other tourists in a glass-bottomed boat. We had a wise old native as our guide who was very knowledge about the customs and traditions of Tobago and of the history and geography of the area. We were soon to find out that he was keeping a sacred secret from us, which he promised to reveal later. Soon, we found ourselves way out in the middle of the Caribbean sea. All we could see was a few windswept palm trees barely visible far on the horizon. That's when he told us to step out of the boat into the sea. Being a swimmer, I slid over the side only to find the water only chest- deep. We were resting over a sand-bar called the Nylon Pool.
Then he revealed his secret. Legend has it, he said, that those who bathe in the Nylon Pool are blessed with eternal youth. He assured us that this was true. Although he appeared to be in his fifties, he validated the legend by saying, “Look at me! I have bathed in the Nylon Pool many times. I am eighty-eight years old”.
The Turtle Beach Hotel situated on the west coast was paradise. One night in May, I was awakened by a gentle knock on my door. A member of the hotel staff asked me if I would like to quietly observe giant sea turtles laying their eggs on the beach. I recognized this as a once in a lifetime opportunity. I was asked not to bring my camera nor my flash light. There must have been forty guests watching these magnificent sea creatures from a safe distance. Everyone was dead quiet. The only noise was that of the waves breaking against the beach. No-one stirred until all seven of these turtles had finished their task and had returned to the sea. It was an awe-inspiring experience.
I met a young businessman just starting to rent motorcycles to tourists. He only had three. Of course, being a motorcycle enthusiast myself I rented one for a few days to explore the island. I was over the moon. I couldn't believe that I was riding through the coastal towns of Scarborough, Roxborourgh, Charlotteville and Speyside. Occasionally, I would go inland to discover remote villages nestled in the hills. The local inhabitants were warm and friendly although half a dozen barking dogs escorted me through one village trying to snap at my ankles as a rode by. “WOW! ...Life doesn't get any better than this” I chuckled to myself, as I put on some throttle and left them behind.
The most noteworthy of my experiences on my first trip however was my excursion to the Nylon Pool off the coast of Pigeon Point on the SW corner of the Island. I had no idea what to expect. I joined about a dozen other tourists in a glass-bottomed boat. We had a wise old native as our guide who was very knowledge about the customs and traditions of Tobago and of the history and geography of the area. We were soon to find out that he was keeping a sacred secret from us, which he promised to reveal later. Soon, we found ourselves way out in the middle of the Caribbean sea. All we could see was a few windswept palm trees barely visible far on the horizon. That's when he told us to step out of the boat into the sea. Being a swimmer, I slid over the side only to find the water only chest- deep. We were resting over a sand-bar called the Nylon Pool.
Then he revealed his secret. Legend has it, he said, that those who bathe in the Nylon Pool are blessed with eternal youth. He assured us that this was true. Although he appeared to be in his fifties, he validated the legend by saying, “Look at me! I have bathed in the Nylon Pool many times. I am eighty-eight years old”.
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