Neville A. Edwards' A1 Appetiser

Our grand favourite hot sauce is that made by Neville A. Edwards, of Long Gap, Spooner's Hill, St Michael.

It is "made from the finest selected Peppers, Onions and Radishes. Also Salt, Mustard and 5 per cent Alcohol." I think it is the combination of mustard and alcohol that gives Bajan hot sauce its incomparably flavourful piquancy.

We have a long list of hot-sauce dependents. People from as far away as Singapore, Arizona, New York and Unionville, Ontario, depend on us for their hot sauce supply. My mum likes to have it with her Bak Kut Teh. So I guess this means we are duty-bound to return to Barbados every year for as long as we live.

We had a bit of a scare this year when we went along to our usual supermarket in Holetown and couldn't find a single bottle of Neville A. Edwards on the shelves. It was definitely a face-blanching moment. Luckily, we found the next day that Jordan's of Speightstown was well stocked in the stuff, so we came away with eight bottles.

A few days later, we went to the Holetown supermarket again, just to have a look. Sure enough, the A1 Appetiser had been restored to its rightful place on the shelves, so all was well in the universe again.

It must have been a hiccup in their supply chain. Either that or someone very like myself had just hit the place ahead of me.

Hot Sauce, Hot Sauce, Hot Sauce!!!

I can't believe it. I have been writing this blog (admittedly intermittently) for three years, and I have not posted on hot sauce.

I first tasted Bajan hot sauce when my friend The Curmudgeon brought some over to dinner—oh, about twenty years ago now. Coming as I do from Southeast Asia, with its fiery sambals and curries, tom yums and laksas, I thought "Yeah, whatever." But as soon as I tasted some, well, I literally ran around my kitchen whooping for joy.

This picture was taken surreptitiously in a Holetown supermarket. As you can see, Barbadians take their hot sauce (sometimes called pepper sauce) SERIOUSLY. Over the years, we have found that an excellent way to break the ice with Bajans (who can be a little shy) is to ask them which brand they like the best. We have tried several kinds—Delish (meh), Aunt May (meh to good), Country Boy (pretty good), S-Bend (pretty damn good).

The Curmudgeon's Mum (bless her heart) likes Windmill. We always buy her a bottle, but have never tried it ourselves. We're sure it's great.

And then there is the off-label, home-made kind that some restaurants commission from their own private suppliers. I'm sure you could write an entire book about those.

But our favourite brand of hot sauce deserves a post of its own ...

Trinity

We think of Gibbs Beach on the west coast as our hometown in Barbados. We've tried staying elsewhere—one year in Fitts Village, St James, and one year in Bathsheba. Nevertheless, nice as those places were, we always felt a little displaced and dissatisfied.

But we are budget travellers, and Gibbs is an expensive, exclusive neighbourhood. There are vacation rentals here that cost thousands of US dollars per night. Even the Gibbs Bay Inn, which is in just the right spot and looks fine (though just short of five-star), starts at about USD200 per night.

For a few years, we rented a little apartment up on Gibbs Hill. It was lovely, but to get down to the coast we would have to walk through a dark, steep-sided gully that wound around a couple of blind corners—not the kind of place you want to share with cars, especially not at night. The gully became a kind of psychological hurdle for us. Watching for a green flash at sunset on the beach was out of the question, because then we'd have to walk back up through the gully in darkness. We ate all our dinners in.

So it was with great relief that we found the lovely "Trinity", just a few minutes' north of Gibbs Beach, along the West Coast highway. It is a self-contained studio apartment on the ground floor of a house. As you can see, it opens out onto a spacious, breezy patio that faces away from the main road and onto a well-looked-after garden much frequented by green monkeys, Zenaida doves, bananaquits, grassquits, and hummingbirds. We really had a nice time here—I can't think of a single thing that could have been done to make our stay more comfortable.

The owner, Barbara Anne Rodriguez (who told me about the cow's nostril), is as sunny and warm as her native island. She tells me she has plans to add a two-bedroom apartment in time for next winter. You can read more about Trinity here and get in touch with Barbara Anne here.

Animal Flower Cave Concession Stand

In all the times we've visited the Animal Flower Cave, we've never actually gone into the cave nor seen anyone else go in. It costs something, and there is a discouraging sign posted at the top of the stair that says something like "Enter at Your Own Risk".

Nevertheless, the concession stand at the cave is a pleasant and popular spot. You can have lunch here and ice cream, and there are washrooms in decent shape around the back.

There are several benches around the grounds that are painted blue and have a "Wet Paint" sign affixed to them. But I think the paint must be dry by now, as those signs have been there for at least three years.

Great Spot for a Picnic!

As you get close to the Animal Flower Cave (assuming you walked over from River Bay, rather than vice versa, which would actually be more sensible), there is a gallery of sorts, complete with benches, so you can put your feet up and enjoy watching the surf crash against the cliffs.

There are signs that there had once been plans to put thatch on the roof of the structure, for some welcome shade, but the wind is so strong along this coast that I don't doubt the plan was abandoned after numerous roofs blew off into the deep blue yonder.

Still, it is a great spot for a snack.

Please Pay Attention to Where You're Going

As you might imagine, there are a few signs of erosion along the coast, where the relentless ocean has scoured away for millennia at the coral cliffs. If you weren't paying attention to where you were going, you might fall through a hole like this and end up forty or so feet on the beach below.

If you did that, you'd find yourself on a beach of Bottom Bay–like beauty, but I'm not sure how you would get off it.

Surfing Lodge Ruins

One of the stranger sights along the walk from Animal Flower Cave to River Bay is this ruined hotel. At some point in the fifties or sixties, I gather, some entrepreneur thought it would be a good idea to promote the north coast as a surfers' paradise. I don't know how long the lodge was in operation, but today this ruin is all that is left of the venture.

I don't know anything about surfing, so I can't speak to the wisdom of the plan, but I've had a good look at that point on the coast, and I just don't see how, once they'd cruised in on their gnarly waves, the surfers could avoid being pureed against the rocky cliffs.

Perhaps that's why the hotel went out of business, when all its guests failed to return from their day's activities.

One thing to note about this point in the walk: there is a hobo-like person who seems to live by the walled perimeter of the surf lodge. He likes to insist you buy something from him as a kind of fee for passing through. One time we bought a wild grapefruit from him (it wasn't entirely edible, but its scent made me think I'd died and gone to citrus heaven) and this time around the GH bargained him down from five dollars to three for an entirely desiccated coconut that he claimed had juice in it.

He seems pretty harmless, and we don't begrudge him his rather marginal means of scraping by. He seems shy about who he approaches—one time I saw him start towards us jauntily, only to melt into the shadows under the trees when he saw the muscular beefcake tourist who happened to be walking in front of us. I felt rather sorry.

The Cow's Nostril

This brief video gives an idea of the wildness of the north coast. Towards the end of the video, you will see a blowhole in action. Our landlady, Barbara Anne Rodriguez (about whom more in a later post), told me that blowholes are known locally as "cow's nostrils"!

Where the Atlantic Meets the Caribbean Sea

The sea off the north coast of Barbados is as wild and crazy as it is because that is the point at which the Atlantic meets the Caribbean Sea. It really is something to behold, the way the water heaves and thrashes around. Great waves, as high as buildings, crash into the cliffs, as depicted above—when you consider that the cliffs are about thirty or forty feet high, you start to get an idea of the scale of the splash I photographed here.

The Kindness of Bajans Part II

In 2012, I observed a rather heartwarming incident on the Connelltown bus ride up to River Bay. Towards the end of the route, the bus wends its way through a complicated warren of residential streets that makes me thankful we are not the car-renting type.

This is about as far from the glitzy, touristy Barbados as you can get. Apart from the Animal Flower Cave, there isn't much that draws tourists as far north as this (I don't know why, as the coast is spectacular). I love to look at the houses and gardens—none are opulent, and a few are in lamentable condition, but even the most shaky-looking chattel house will have something to admire about it, whether it is a bougainvillea in full bloom, spilling over a wall made of cinder blocks, or a poinsettia six feet tall.

While rumbling through one of these neighbourhoods, the bus suddenly drew to a stop alongside a house. A lady (still in her Sunday best) ran down the garden path, frantically waving and smiling. Without a word, the bus driver handed her through his side window a handbag, which she had obviously left behind on the bus earlier that day. Then, with a wave, he drove off, while she walked back to her house beaming and clutching her bag.

I've tried, but I can't quite picture this happening on Toronto transit.

The Walk from River Bay to Animal Flower Cave

For the past three years now, we have taken the bus to River Bay and then walked along the plateau to the Animal Flower Cave and caught the bus back again.

The big drawback of this itinerary is that the inbound bus from the Animal Flower Cave is an unreliable creature. I see in my notebook a note that reads "Inbound bus from Animal Flower Cave is at 44 mins past the hour. Or 12 mins. Who knows?"

Last year, we stood in the hot sun for about an hour and a half waiting for it. I began to lose hope. I was about to bail and call for a taxi, but the walk back to the Animal Flower Cave concession stand to find a phone book would have been about ten minutes long—and what if a bus came during that time?

The GH counselled patience (a situation rich in irony). But sure enough, about ten minutes later, the welcome sight of a blue bus!

So, the strategy nowadays is to ask the driver to let us off at the Animal Flower Cave, have our picnic there, and then walk back to River Bay. Either way, it takes about an hour over rocky ground. I recommend sturdy shoes (at least Crocs) and good sun protection (about which, more to come!)

Picnic at River Bay

To the west side of the River Bay site, there is a stand of casuarina trees, with wonderfully gnarled trunks that throw the most interesting shadows on the sandy ground. There are several picnic benches here. It's a great place to sit and eat an egg and hummus sandwich and sip some tea while watching Bajan families enjoy their Sunday picnics at other tables!

If you're lucky, you might even see an informal cricket match in progress ...

River Bay

Along the north coast of Barbados, the sea behaves like a wild thing, heaving in several different directions at once and crashing on the coral cliffs with great thunderous booms.

But where the river of River Bay runs out to sea, there is a shallow, calm spot where you can take a dip while the Atlantic rages a few yards away.

It's a popular picnic spot. There is a public facility with washrooms and changing rooms, and the Connelltown bus arrives here at about 20 minutes past the hour, every hour.