Mustique

After our return to Django from the Bequia Whaling Museum, we decided to move up to Admiralty Bay. The swell in Friendship Bay was mildly unpleasant. We reckoned Port Elizabeth couldn’t be much worse.

It took only a few hours. We picked up a mooring with the assistance of a fellow in a motorboat. These chaps, known as boat boys, are everywhere in these islands, ready to lend a hand...for a price. We went ashore to explore. The bookstore was closed and would remain so until Monday (this was Saturday). WW went off for a haircut while the EC and I went looking for some needed provisions.

Back at Django, we decided we didn’t want to stay in Port Elizabeth till Monday and that we would raise anchor and go to Mustique in the morning.

The glorious weather remained glorious and the crossing to Mustique was a very pleasant little cruise. The EC performed admirably.

Enn looking positively nautical as Ile a Quatre (south of Bequia)

drops behind us on our way to Mustique

Photo by Dana

I had pulled a muscle and they (the EC) insisted on doing all the work. I was in charge of giving orders, which I found very therapeutic. I will miss them when they go and I have to start toting that barge and lifting that bale again.

Islets in the sun, sailing the south shore of Bequia on our way to Mustique

We anchored in Mustique’s Brittannia Bay, off Basil’s Bar, renowned as a place to spot the rich and famous who come to enjoy vast estates on the tiny island. Fortunately, it is the off season, so we didn’t have to rubberneck throughout our brief visit there.

A carved door on Mustique

We took a walk up behind the little town, found the power plant, the school, the playing field (where an exciting game of football [soccer] had drawn quite a crowd), the equestrian centre. Whatever else the rich and famous may do, they have a salutary effect on appearances and establishments in their proximity.

KMH, Enn and WW in front of gingerbread shops on Mustique

Photo by Dana

View over Britannia Bay

The island is now owned and administered by The Mustique Company which, according to the magazine The Ins and Outs of St. Vincent & The Grenadines, “...acts as custodian for the entire island...its mandate is to protect the environment and retain the privacy and tranquility that has made Mustique the ideal peaceful and secure Caribbean hideaway.”

View up to Bequia and St. Vincent

We had a rum punch at Basil’s Bar, seated with a view out over the sea to the setting sun. The RP was unanimously considered less fine than the Django special. But then, the captain and EC know upon which side their bread is buttered.

Enn, WW, Dana and KMH sip RPs at Basil's Bar, Mustique, Django behind us

Photo by our waiter...a very nice guy

For those who don’t know, the Django RP is one that was taught to me by my friend Lorna who learned it on St. Kitts. My Grenadian cookbook claims it as an old Grenada recipe. My suspicion is that it is a universal Caribbean rhyme. And here it is:

One of sour, two of sweet
Three of strong, four of weak.

That leaves plenty of room for interpretation, but the basics are lime juice (sour), demerara sugar (sweet), dark rum (strong), ice and/or water (weak). After creating the perfect blend of these three, Angostura bitters are the finishing touch...although Grenadians would insist on a grating of glorious Grenada nutmeg. Of course, the key questions are: One what? Two what? Cups? Ounces? Pounds? And therein lies the alchemy of the proper Django RP.

But it really isn’t rocket science and I fail to understand why we can never find such a drink at a bar. Perhaps we are asking for the wrong thing. A request for rum punch or planter’s punch always ends in sweet fruit juices—principally pineapple—with rum, and usually quite a lot of that. I think I will try ordering a rum sour. But I am not sanguine. I may need to cruise the length and breadth of the Caribbean, teaching bartenders how to make the “Django”, so that future generations need not suffer as we have.

Django seen from Basil's Bar at sunset