Dominica

Could this be the start of a good day, as we entered Dominica slightly ahead of schedule, only time would tell.  Before Full English had assembled in the main restaurant, the captain was announcing that we were tied up alongside and just awaiting formalities before we were free to go ashore.  The good news was short lived; when it became apparent that there were no orange segments in the orange and grapefruit for breakfast – again!!  Well, if the purser had been around he would have been tied to the mast and received numerous lashes.  Lucky for him there does not appear to be a mast on this ship.  There was more to come – sat at our breakfast table was Richard Fothergill’s brother Derek, or so it seemed.  This guy came from Northern Ireland and had two brothers who lived in England.  I was positive he must be a Fothergill, but no he wasn’t.  If Derek ever needs a stunt double then I know just the man for the job.

Geographically, we have headed North again and Dominica sits midway between Guadeloupe at the tail end of the Leeward Islands and Martinique at the head of the Windward Islands.  Dominica is roughly 29 miles long, 16 miles wide and has a population of around 79,000.  Again, like most islands, the economy is becoming more dependent on tourism, although they still export bananas, coconut oil, cocoa and limes.  This place is like one giant rain forest.  Very fertile and has the highest rainfall of any Caribbean Island.

After breakfast we took, what has become our usual venture ashore to find a taxi that will take us round some of the island on a sightseeing trip.  No More than a few paces from the gang plank and we were soon accosted.  The going rate seems to be around US$25 per head for about 3 hours round trip.  This taxi driver was exceptional, not only was he very very proud of his island, but he could recite the full history of the place from when it popped up out of the sea, millions of years ago, to the present day as well as name just about every tree we passed.  Trust me there were millions of them. 

We were soon going through the Botanical gardens with its incredible display of trees and shrubs.  This is without doubt the best botanical gardens to date.  As we ventured up to a high point overlooking the main town of Roseau, it was clear that the view was going to be stunning, and it did not disappoint when we got there.  From here we continued to climb up heading towards a sulphur pool, when horror of horrors, there was another snake vendor on the side of the road. The driver stopped right alongside him asking if anyone wanted to take a picture.  Yesterday was bad enough, when we were on the other side of the minibus, but today, we were in the front seat and the snake and his dummy were just by my left ear, on the other side of the glass window.  That peculiar sulphur dioxide smell seemed to permeate through from the front through to the rear of the minibus as I shuffled uncomfortably in the front seat.  Fortunately, this minibus was full of like minded people and nobody wanted pictures or felt a burning desire to stroke it, unlike yesterdays Muppets.  As we sped off we continued towards the sulphur springs and much like yesterday, pools of water bubbled away spewing boiling water over the surrounding rocks.  Guess this is just a warm up for Rotorua in New Zealand.  The local vendors were also selling the same sulphurous, creams that will allegedly cure all ailments from prickly heat to multiple chins if you rub it on once a day ‘till eternity.

From here we headed to the waterfalls in the National Park, deep inside the rain forest.  The humidity must have been almost 100% and very hot.  Not the best climate for walking in, but the result was worthwhile.  Finally, ahead of us were the twin cascading waterfalls of Trafalgar.

From here we made our way back to the ship and a spot of silver service lunch.  Curry for me and fishcakes for Maureen, chased down with ice cream.  After lunch we needed to check that the sun deck was still operational and caught a few rays before the sun disappeared behind a huge cloud for over an hour.  It was soon time to get ready for the ship to depart our last port of call before heading for base in Barbados.  The ship slipped out of the berth bang on time this evening and we were soon ‘Going to Barbados’ – as the song goes.

We do not get off the ship until Saturday afternoon, so for us, it is not our last day on board.  For those flying home tomorrow – weather permitting, dinner was their last supper.  As always a terrific choice of food, but tonight, starters were course pate for both of us followed by steak for Maureen and haunch of venison for me, followed by posh blueberry tart and a cheeky bottle of New Zealand Shiraz.  Again, just practicing.

Lots of speculation as to whether tomorrows flights will be leaving as rumours abound regarding the closure of Gatwick.  What a pain if we get stuck out here!!

After a short stroll on the promenade deck, we went to watch a very humorous and very talented pianist in the main theatre, before retiring to write this blog.

Back to home port tomorrow and the wonders of Barbados.  We turned down a lunch with Michael Winner at Sandy Lane as we just knew that all he wanted was to sell us car insurance.