Tortola
This island is the reason we chose this particular itinerary. About 5 years ago we stopped here on another cruise and in addition to spending the day snorkeling at fabulous Brewer's Bay, our driver also took us to an old rum distillery which has been a family operation for over 200 years. It had the best rum Hans ever tasted. We only had enough money with us to buy one bottle and that bottle haunted Hans.
This time, we were here to buy a case.
With fins and snorkels in hand, we asked a cab driver to take us to Brewer's Bay first.
"I will take you, but the water's so choppy you won't be able to snorkel," he says, eyeing our gear. Disappointed, we asked if there were any other areas where we could snorkel.
"Not today," he replied. "The surf is too high but I'll take you to a beach and you can at least play in the water. And the rum distillery you're looking for is just up the road."
He was certainly right about the surf. It pounded me. Unlike Hans, who has much stronger legs and remained standing while the surf boiled around him, I immediately lost my footing. The current dragged me butt first along the sandy bottom and deposited me briefly on the beach then sucked me back and repeated the process.
Who knew my butt and cleavage could act as shovels? When I finally got out, I scooped handfuls of sand from my top and bottom. Fluffing out my hair, the comb came out covered in sand. Covered, I tell you! Shaking my head like a dog I lanced everyone around me with grit.
Franzell Penn, our cab driver, was definitey right about not snorkeling. We would have been cut to shreds.
Scotty and Trish, a couple we had met on the ship, wandered by and were going for a walk and we offered to keep their backpacks with us so they could walk unhindered. Off they went only to return a short time later completely drenched. Turns out that they were walking the beach along a wall when a particularly huge wave rolled in, hit the wall and bounced back to soak them.
Scotty tried a Mr. Bean impression: taking his shorts and underwear off under a towel. In the ensuing contortions not only did the towel drop, but his underwear which was lying on the stone fence dropped over and into the graveyard.
Even our lounge chairs didn't keep us out of the surf. We were a good 20' from the edge of the water but every few waves a big one would come and roll under us all the way to the stone fence where we had propped up our useless fins and sandals. A few times the sandals floated away. We hung our clothes and backpack in the trees as sometimes the waves frothed right through the lounger soaking everything on it, us included.
Despite the high surf it was a beautiful day, hot and windy. In the distance at the entry to the bay was a line of happy surfers riding the waves.
For us, there was still the bright light of delicious rum beckoning at the end of the day. The distillery looked exactly the way we remembered it: shoddy and crumbling. But their rum is second to none. Hans negotiated and since we bought a case, the price went from US $9 to US $7.50. We knew we'd get hit with duty back in Canada. It cost us an additional CAD $75 at the Calgary airport.
One final note about Tortola. Hans managed to keep his hat on his head in the surf mostly since he was holding onto it with both hands and also because he didn't fall down. However, the waves cleverly pickpocketed his bathing suit and extracted his Princess ID card.
Back near the ship we had to go through security. No card. We were escorted by security personnel to the gangplank where a second security officer eyed us suspiciously but allowed us to proceed up the plank. Inside the ship is a machine which scans your ID and which also has your photo in memory. It recognized Hans and so we were directed to the Purser's office to get a replacement card. Turned out to be no problem at all.
The ship also has an airport type machine which x-rays your bags. We deposited our 12 bottles of rum, 6 in each handy little carrying case, and fully expected them to be held for us by ship personnel until the end of the cruise. Nothing was said and so we kept them in our cabin for the remainder of the trip. Encouraged, we bought a bottle of liqueur at the next stop to enjoy in our room!
This time, we were here to buy a case.
With fins and snorkels in hand, we asked a cab driver to take us to Brewer's Bay first.
"I will take you, but the water's so choppy you won't be able to snorkel," he says, eyeing our gear. Disappointed, we asked if there were any other areas where we could snorkel.
"Not today," he replied. "The surf is too high but I'll take you to a beach and you can at least play in the water. And the rum distillery you're looking for is just up the road."
He was certainly right about the surf. It pounded me. Unlike Hans, who has much stronger legs and remained standing while the surf boiled around him, I immediately lost my footing. The current dragged me butt first along the sandy bottom and deposited me briefly on the beach then sucked me back and repeated the process.
Who knew my butt and cleavage could act as shovels? When I finally got out, I scooped handfuls of sand from my top and bottom. Fluffing out my hair, the comb came out covered in sand. Covered, I tell you! Shaking my head like a dog I lanced everyone around me with grit.
Franzell Penn, our cab driver, was definitey right about not snorkeling. We would have been cut to shreds.
Scotty and Trish, a couple we had met on the ship, wandered by and were going for a walk and we offered to keep their backpacks with us so they could walk unhindered. Off they went only to return a short time later completely drenched. Turns out that they were walking the beach along a wall when a particularly huge wave rolled in, hit the wall and bounced back to soak them.
Scotty tried a Mr. Bean impression: taking his shorts and underwear off under a towel. In the ensuing contortions not only did the towel drop, but his underwear which was lying on the stone fence dropped over and into the graveyard.
Even our lounge chairs didn't keep us out of the surf. We were a good 20' from the edge of the water but every few waves a big one would come and roll under us all the way to the stone fence where we had propped up our useless fins and sandals. A few times the sandals floated away. We hung our clothes and backpack in the trees as sometimes the waves frothed right through the lounger soaking everything on it, us included.
Despite the high surf it was a beautiful day, hot and windy. In the distance at the entry to the bay was a line of happy surfers riding the waves.
For us, there was still the bright light of delicious rum beckoning at the end of the day. The distillery looked exactly the way we remembered it: shoddy and crumbling. But their rum is second to none. Hans negotiated and since we bought a case, the price went from US $9 to US $7.50. We knew we'd get hit with duty back in Canada. It cost us an additional CAD $75 at the Calgary airport.
One final note about Tortola. Hans managed to keep his hat on his head in the surf mostly since he was holding onto it with both hands and also because he didn't fall down. However, the waves cleverly pickpocketed his bathing suit and extracted his Princess ID card.
Back near the ship we had to go through security. No card. We were escorted by security personnel to the gangplank where a second security officer eyed us suspiciously but allowed us to proceed up the plank. Inside the ship is a machine which scans your ID and which also has your photo in memory. It recognized Hans and so we were directed to the Purser's office to get a replacement card. Turned out to be no problem at all.
The ship also has an airport type machine which x-rays your bags. We deposited our 12 bottles of rum, 6 in each handy little carrying case, and fully expected them to be held for us by ship personnel until the end of the cruise. Nothing was said and so we kept them in our cabin for the remainder of the trip. Encouraged, we bought a bottle of liqueur at the next stop to enjoy in our room!
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