Grenada is far to the south of the West Indian archipelago. Thus, it receives fewer tourists. The island, in turn, does not seem obsessed with tourism, although it is its largest industry. All 100,000 Grenadians have access to every beach, and no hotel or building can be—this is not unique to this island—higher than the tallest palm tree. The beaches tend to be small and postcard-perfect. The largest beach, Grand Anse, is a little over two miles in length but still does not get inundated, although when the cruise-ship season starts in late October (it ends in late March), it must be a little more busy. Another plus: Both Morne Rouge and Grand Anse are 10 minutes by taxi from the international airport at Point Salines (the fare is Eastern Caribbean S19 ($7)).
St. George’s, Grenada’s capital, is a picturesque port of 20,000 people that some call the Portofino of the Caribbean. Praise indeed, and it is very pleasant, Wharf Road leading around its harbor, called the Carenage. Parts of it have been dubbed San Francisco for its very steep streets, and dominating the skyline are several churches (the Anglican ones bear large clocks) and Fort George, where in 1983, political bickering ended with the execution of Prime Minister Maurice Bishop, an act that led to the American invasion. Bishop’s name now graces the airport (the building of which he instigated), and snippets of graffiti still thank the United States for its intervention.
Today, that is old history for most, although the introduction of a sales tax, where before there never has been one, ensures that politics here remains heated, although much, much, much less prone to serious consequences. Tourism is a joy here, and the population is very educated.
A drive to Grand Etang Forest Reserve is a perfect alternative to the sublime beaches. Call hiking guide Telfor Bedeau (everyone knows him), a 71-year-old whose fitness will put men half his age to shame. One popular walk is though a volcanic crater of farms, through the rainforest and on to Seven Sisters Falls. At times the walk is steep, but the reward is great, two dramatic waterfalls filling your sightline. Adventurous holidaymakers can walk for 30 minutes up through the rainforest and jump down all the falls. Bedeau explains the fruits and spices seen along the way. This is done with a young man who calls himself Super Butterfly. He will tell you how to jump and where to jump, and I was told the whole experience is exhilarating. I was content swimming in the warm river water at the base of waterfall number six, and it really was warm in the September sun. A perfect picnic spot is a short drive away at the lake of Grand Etang (the accent that should be on the “E” I never saw used), whose name means Great Pond.
Grenada is, of course, called the Spice Island, known for spices, herbs and fruits such as cinnamon, ginger, all spice, cloves, cocoa, bay and, most importantly, nutmeg. In 2004, Hurricane Ivan destroyed many nutmeg trees (it smashed everything else here, too), and only now are farmers beginning to again make money from this iconic plant, and it is testament to the strength and versatility of Mother Nature that the island again looks luxuriant. Another attractive waterfall is at Concord.
A culinary tour is well worth doing. Start at Dougaldston Estate, near the small town of Gouyave, where Clifford Bridgeman, an elderly Grenadian, will show visitors that nutmeg contains two spices, the seed, which we call nutmeg when grated, and the seed’s thin reddish covering, known as aril, which we call mace. The long drying building at Dougaldston is wonderfully old. Outside, large trays covered with brown cocoa beans perch on heavy iron train tracks; inside, everything is equally ancient with dusty shards of sun shimmering a century of smells.
Perhaps some of these cocoa beans end up at the award-winning Grenada Chocolate Factory in a colorful, small building in the St. Patrick’s Parish village of Hermitage. It makes only a few types of chocolate (the cocoa content is between 60 and 82 percent), all of which are delicious. I loved the bar called Nib-alicious.
To wash all of this down, aim next toward the Rivers Antoine (pronounced “Rivers Ann-Twayne) Rum Distillery in Tivoli. It is the island’s oldest distillery, dating to 1785, and absolutely nothing looks as though it is any younger. Crumbling walls with 18th century graffiti surround and open up to working waterwheels, heavy machinery made in then-empirical Germany and England and huge piles of sugar-cane husks. A sip of its 75-percent-proof rum is, like the Seven Sisters Falls, for the adventurous. Flu will leave you! Flavored rums cut the potency. None is exported.
Back in St. George’s, dine at the very informal Patrick’s, run by a culinary magician called Karen Hall, who cooks all the food—which just keeps on coming—on eight stovetops. Dishes include locally caught crab, seasoned pork, spiced plantains and callaloo soup made with coconut milk. Callaloo is a green leaf vegetable that some might know as amaranth.
Nature buffs will want to visit Mount Hartman where the national bird, the very rare, reclusive Grenada dove, clings on. Current estimates put its numbers at no more than 200. At certain times of the year, whales glide by.
Hotels range the gamut. Modest but very comfortable, Caribbean-infused and delightfully low-key spots include Cinnamon Hill (Grand Anse Beach) and the new Kalinago (Morne Rouge Beach), while upscale roosts include the all-inclusive Les Sources (Pink Gin Beach) with a spa and upscale restaurant.
