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.

The Incomparable Bottom Bay

Cave Bay II

I thought I had seen lovely beaches in Barbados already. But Cave Bay quite took my breath away. From where we stood at the top of the cliffs enclosing it, we could hear the waves booming like a cannon as they crashed up against deep overhangs that had been eroded into the headlands.

Less well known than its companion to the north, Bottom Bay, Cave Bay was completely deserted when we visited on a Friday afternoon. Of course, the currents all along these parts of the Southeast Coast make this a dangerous beach for swimming, but I wouldn't mind bringing a tall flask of iced lemonade with me next time and just sitting here for about three hours.

Perhaps another reason that Cave Bay is less well visited than Bottom Bay is that the way down to the beach from above is via a very steep stair that has been roughly cut into the coral cliffs. There is no handrail--not for the weak of knee, and I mean that both literally and figuratively.

Cave Bay

Oistins Bay At Sunset

Turtle Nests Destroyed

Throughout the night of February 13 (the day of the Good Hubby's accident), we could hear the surf pounding the shore, even though we were about a mile inland.

The next morning, we visited Gibbs Beach again and noticed that there were smashed turtle eggs all over it.

Our host, P.H., told us that there are usually about 70 hawksbill turtle nests on Gibbs Beach alone. She was very sad to hear about the smashed eggs, as she has taken part in the hatchling release programme, where volunteers shine flashlights to guide the emerging baby turtles into the ocean.

From all I've read about sea turtles (The Voyage of the Turtle, by Carl Safina, is one of my favourite books), I can see that Gibbs Beach is a perfect beach for nesting turtles--at least, when there are not "large battering waves" pounding the shore.

From the website of the Barbados Sea Turtle Project, I've learned that hawksbill nests are usually about 18 inches deep. I guess that gives us an idea of how much the beach was churned up by those high waves.

I also learned that three different species of sea turtle nest on Barbados--hawksbills, green, and leatherbacks. I think P.H. said the leatherbacks mostly nest on the East Coast.

If there are about 70 nests on Gibbs Beach and each nest contains about 150 eggs, that means come hatching season some 10,500 baby turtles make their way to sea from Gibbs Beach alone. The number that survive to breeding age is, of course, only a tiny percentage of that--but still it's an encouraging thought.

I certainly didn't see 10,500 destroyed eggs along the beach that day, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that only a handful of nests were disturbed and that this summer baby hawksbills will emerge out of the sand and take to their ocean home in great numbers!

High Surf on February 13, 2010

These were the conditions at Gibbs Beach on the morning of February 13. The waves were, I think, between two and three metres in height. Because Gibbs is a relatively steep beach, these waves did not break until they were right on the shore.

Unbeknown to me, as I was taking this video the Good Hubby was happily undressing and getting ready to go in. As soon as he entered the water, however, he realized he should come out again. However, this meant turning his back on the surf.

I watched in mounting horror as he got slammed down repeatedly by waves that stood maybe three feet taller than him. The last wave dragged him along the bottom by his face. He must have hit a rock on the way, because when he came out of it his cheek was swollen to the size of a grapefruit and his chin was coursing with blood.

Hindsight is a great thing. I have now discovered that the meteorological section of the Ministry of Agriculture website had posted for that day: "Moderate to rough in open water with swells 2.5-3.5 m. A small craft warning is in effect for above normal northerly swells. A High Surf Advisory is in effect for large battering waves."

My italics. No kidding!

Gibbs Beach

Of all the beaches we've visited in Barbados, Gibbs Beach is our favourite. The beachfront is taken up with staid and elegant villas, all with lovely tropical gardens--as a result, the beach has a secluded, untouristed feel.

To get to Gibbs Beach, get off the bus at the junction of Highway 1 (the West Coast Road) and the road that leads to Rock Dundo. Walk north along the west side of the road until you come to a house called "Southwinds". There is a narrow passage on the left that takes you down to the beach.

When the sun is out, the waters of Gibbs Beach have that astonishing blue colour that always looks faked in photographs. You can see why travel copywriters are so fond of the word "azure" when you come here!

Most of the time, the sea at Gibbs Beach is as calm as a swimming pool. I've spent many happy moments floating on my back here, looking up at the casuarina trees and climbing bougainvilleas that line the shore.

If you tilt your head slightly back in the water, the sky and the sea become your whole universe. You can hear the clicking of grains of sand as they're moved back and forth by the waves--and if you let your feet float downwards, you can comb the sand with your toes.

It's so idyllic that, whenever I am feeling stressed, I try to visualize floating in the sea at Gibbs Beach to calm myself down.

On this visit, however, we found out that sometimes the sea at Gibbs takes on a different complexion.

In Case You Are the Surfing Kind ...

Here's some East Coast surf. I don't know how you'd avoid those bad-looking rocks though ...

Our Harrowing Ordeal at Long Pond Part III

A couple of days later, we revisited the scene of the crime and saw that the sea had already broken down most of the berm that had held in the waters of Long Pond. This is a picture I took from the north end of it. You can see where it would have joined the southern end and that there was now a sandy flat where the water had breached the berm.

Perhaps when we visit again (next week!), we will see that the berm has reformed and that Long Pond has filled up again.

When we told the staff at the Sea-U Guesthouse (where we were staying) what had happened, they were astonished. The receptionist told us that she used to swim in Long Pond as a child and that the grownups had always warned her not to let her feet touch the bottom, or the mud would suck her in and drown her! She also said she'd heard stories of cars being swallowed whole and never seen again.

I'm not sure if she was saying that just to give me a thrill. It's all right to look back at a harrowing ordeal once you've survived it, had a shower, and tucked into some flying fish and macaroni pie.

I'm still sorry about it, though.

Our Harrowing Ordeal at Long Pond Part II

When we went back to Long Pond (or, more correctly, where it had been), we saw to our shock and horror that The Idiot (who was now nowhere to be seen) had succeeded in draining the entire pond into the ocean!

A huge swathe of the sea was discoloured brown by all the mud and silt that had washed out, and through a wide breach in the berm, a gushing torrent of water was running out to the ocean.

Although most of the pond had been drained--and the muddy bed of the pond was now exposed--the stream of water flowing seaward was still running so deep and fast that we didn't dare wade across it. We didn't fancy being knocked off our feet and washed into the Atlantic Ocean--not so close to dinnertime.

We saw freshwater fish being swept into the salty waters, and a crab desperately trying to scrabble against the current and hang on to the side of the breach with its pincers. It occurred to me that The Idiot had single-handedly destroyed an entire ecosystem all by himself, for no better reason than that he'd had nothing to do and too much destructive energy to do it with.

Meanwhile, our bus back to Bathsheba was passing by Barclays Park in rather less than an hour. We would have to try crossing upstream, over the now exposed muddy bottom of Long Pond.

As soon as we stepped off the sandy bank, though, we sank almost to our thighs in mud that had collected over years, possibly decades. My left Croc was swallowed up in the gooey, sucking, black silt. I had to plunge my arm in to retrieve it.

Now, I had spent a fair chunk of my childhood playing in just these conditions on the mudflats of Pasir Panjang in Singapore (now built over with container wharves), so I wasn't quite as alarmed as the Good Hubby, who seriously thought we would be sucked whole into the mud and never seen nor heard from again. Still, it was an unpleasant and unforeseen situation, and I wasn't quite sure how it would end.

I wish I had a photo to append to this post, but by this time my muddy left arm was carrying my muddy left Croc and it just didn't seem like a good idea to take out any personal electronic devices.

So we just hobbled up and down cursing for a few minutes.

Then the Good Hubby had a bright idea. He found us a couple of walking sticks, and using these to find the bottom, we hauled ourselves across at the narrowest point and made it safely to Barclays Park, where we had enough time to wash ourselves under a running tap before getting our bus.

No thanks to The Idiot.

Our Harrowing Ordeal at Long Pond Part I

At certain points along the Bathsheba coast, the ocean waves have pushed the sand up into berms like this one. These berms can be about four to five feet in height and about a hundred yards long.

One such berm that we came across, north of Barclays Park, held in a body of fresh water that was marked as Long Pond on our map. We figured it must have been a stream that had been dammed up by the berm.

It was a thriving ecosystem. Just walking casually along the top of the berm and looking in the water, we could see shoals of little fish swimming and enormous freshwater crabs lurking about the bottom.

Another species of wildlife we noticed was a tourist madly digging at the berm with his hands and feet, like some sort of demented dog. Apparently it was his bright idea to dig a channel from Long Pond out to the ocean.

Having mentally registered that he was an idiot, we went on our way. About an hour later, we despaired of ever reaching the end of the beach and turned back.

We weren't at all prepared for what we saw next ...

Barclays Park

Barclays Park (so named after the banking institution, I believe) is a pleasant picnic spot about ten minutes' drive north of Bathsheba.

The bus from Speightstown passes by on its way to Bathsheba at about 20 minutes before an even hour (i.e. 40 minutes after it has left the bus terminal).

The bus to Speightstown passes by at about 10 minutes past an even hour.

It took us about an hour and a half to walk to Barclays Park along the beach from Bathsheba. We dawdled along the way, of course.

On weekends, Barclays Park is a popular picnic spot for Barbadian families. Especially on Sundays, they always look awfully properly dressed for being on the beach. But perhaps for Barbadians, going to the beach isn't the rare occasion it is for us and so there just isn't the same enthusiasm for stepping out in hobo attire when it happens.

More likely, we are just incurable slobs.

Fortunately, this doesn't seem to discourage acts of great friendliness. Last year, just as the Speightstown bus was pulling up, a lady whose family was picnicking nearby came to ask us if we would like to ride back with her in her car.

We were so taken aback by her generosity--and flustered by the fact that the bus was fast approaching--that we declined, thanking her profusely as we hopped on board. We felt bad afterwards, as we felt we might have been rude and also that we had missed out on a chance to get to know some local people better.

Barclays Park is also where I saw my first ever mongoose. It's a nice place.

The Beach on the Bathsheba Coast

The beach on the Bathsheba Coast goes on seemingly forever. There is a tricky bit just past the Round House where you have to walk across piled up rocks for about a hundred yards, but otherwise, it all looks like this.

Last year, the Good Hubby and I walked for about five hours from the southern end near the Soup Bowl, past Barclays Park and north. We never did make it to the end of the beach, as we had to turn back and catch the bus back to Bathsheba to make it in time for supper.

The picture is one I took as we were trudging back, sunburned and weary. Note how unpopulated the beach is--long may it stay that way! In fact, all day we met only a couple of other people. Unfortunately, one of them was behaving like an idiot and caused us a great deal of inconvenience--but more on that in a later post.