To Jack Sparrow's Drinking Hole

Our time with our Eager Crew was rapidly drawing to a close. Here it was Sunday and they would be leaving on Wednesday morning. Clearly, we needed to cram in a few more memories. So we took them to Wallilabou.

We left Bequia in the rain and pointed up to St. Vincent, sailing/motoring up the island's west coast. It was a good long run and the Captain shared the sailing with EC member Dana.

Dana takes the con

About halfway up the coast is Wallilabou (pronounced Wally-a-boo, they lose an 'l' somehow) Bay. At the head of the bay, a rusting structure rises from the waters and, behind it, stands what remains of Jack Sparrow's tavern. This is one of several spots in the Caribbean where Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed. The rusting mess in the bay is what remains of the jetty.

Jack Sparrow's pub, Wallilabou, St. Vincent

Almost as soon as we entered the bay, we were accosted by boat boys. The first boat guided us to a mooring and helped us moor. This boat was soon joined by others with a variety of knicknacks and gewgaws for sale. One fellow said he'd been an extra in the film and had been paid 120 EC per day for a couple of days. A king's ransom in this area.

During the afternoon, Enn and WW went for a walk with a local chap acting as their guide. Dana and I remained on board since the unremitting rain was unappealing and, anyway, we had books to read. The men returned with tales of a wonderful waterfall and with armloads of food: nutmeg, callaloo, passion fruit, avocado.

The next morning, WW and the EC took a long walk to Barrouallie (pronounced Barrelly), the town on the bay south of Wallilabou. They were very excited having found sardines for sale in a round tin!

We then set off on an expedition to the fabled waterfall of yesterday. It wasn't far to walk. A large part of the walk took us through a substantial estate that had been owned by an Englishman who had died a year or so ago. Bananas, breadfruit, papaya, avocados, citrus, sorrel, pigeon peas...all manner of growing things.

The waterfall was as wonderful as advertised. It was small, perhaps 12 or 15 feet high, and only a couple of feet wide. But it fell with considerable force into a sandy basin surrounded by rocks. A clamber over the rocks and a wade in lovely cool water brings you to a spot where you can turn, dig your heels in and lean back into the fall. The all-natural St. Vincent massage. Spas should be so good.

We walked back in the rain. It was so warm and gentle, it was really not a bother. On the way, WW saved an errant donkey whose tether was not so much a tether as a trailing bit of rope. He led her back and tied her near another donkey we had seen and heard earlier, heehawing in protest over his friend's wandering ways.

A beer on the beach and it was time to batten down the hatches and sail south to our Young Island mooring.