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jacewilliams1 · 4 years

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Night, mist, haze, and all that jazz

Sometimes when we look back to our earliest periods in aviation, we are rightly hounded by some of the infamously stupid things we did—or tried to do. But if you’re like me, you can honestly say you just didn’t know any better at the time, and that there was no one around to warn you of the dangers. We all have to learn. And every once in a while, the learning unveils itself ex post facto. Shockingly—like the last man on the trail being the only one to spot the coiled snake.

In doing the historical research for this story, I re-discovered that I hadn’t been checked out and endorsed for night flying until two years and one month after passing the private pilot flight test with my instructor/examiner. And that important aviation milestone occurred seven months and only four hours and fifteen minutes of logged night time before the following event took place. I was twenty years old.

The date was March 1, 1976, and it was a beautiful, mostly calm, just-barely-cool day in Roanoke, Virginia. I spent that gorgeous day cooped up in the operator’s cab of an overhead, 30-ton crane at the Blue Ridge Steel Company. It wasn’t where I really wanted to be, but attending community college at night and working for my father during the day was my lot in life for the time being. I was fortunate, actually, to have the job…

Destination: the bustling (not really) Bridgewater, Virginia, airport.

The steam whistle finally blew at four o’clock in the afternoon, and I was out and down the ladder like a full-pockets swabbie starting his first shore leave. My excitement had been building intensely because this was the day on which I would pick up my girlfriend after work and then head to Woodrum Field to prepare a new 1975 Cessna 172 for our 50-minute flight down the Shenandoah Valley to the tiny Bridgewater, Virginia, airport.

Once there, we would meet my close friend from high school, Garland—now a music major in college—to make the short drive to Harrisonburg’s James Madison University, our final destination. That night, the school was hosting a free concert in Wilson Hall by the premier US Air Force jazz orchestra, The Airmen of Note. The band did and still does play as tightly as any large jazz group in the world. And (being the jazz enthusiasts we were at the time), we weren’t about to miss them.

Upon the successful completion of all the required tests and check rides on the road to becoming a licensed pilot, an extremely heavy burden is placed squarely on a new aviator’s shoulders. Comprising a portion of that burden is the need for the new airman to quickly develop the traits of, pardon the expression, sort of a benevolent authoritarian. Yes, an authoritarian. Only because of one concern or another about the safety of flight, there are times when a pilot must say, “no, absolutely not,” and stick to his guns. Quite often, the weather predominates these germane elements of concern. And that night in Harrisonburg, Virginia, was no different.

My girlfriend and I arrived with my high-school pal at the concert hall and rendezvoused with some additional friends—Gary and Jody, who were brother and sister, both my age, and their parents. The four of them had driven to Harrisonburg from Roanoke earlier in the day. Now all together, we took our seats and eagerly prepared for a great time of music and friendship.

However, being ever-the-pilot, those nagging “pilot-worries” kept creeping back into my mind time and time again as the concert progressed. I just couldn’t seem to relax and enjoy the show like everyone else could. I was concerned about two specific facts: one, the temperature outside was noticeably cooler than what had been forecasted; and two, the air was hazier and more moisture-laden than I had expected. During the flight down the valley to Bridgewater, I had noticed that the visibility had gradually begun to decrease the further north and east we travelled; when we landed in the early evening we couldn’t see more than around six or seven miles. I made a mental note of it but didn’t carry the thought any further at the time.

After the show, almost everyone wanted to go out to eat and party at a good place they had heard about in town. I say almost everyone because I knew then that I should have said “no” and started back for home, but I also knew that I would have never heard the end of it from my girlfriend if I had. So, I reluctantly gave in. I caved. I should have been strong and stood my ground, but I was a coward. It shames me to say it, but that’s the truth. I was afraid to make waves. Later on, in the restaurant, I silently tried to rationalize my self-humiliation: “Well, more than likely, the weather will be okay; the forecast was for clear air. And besides, who really wants to be labelled, ‘Party Pooper?’” Meanwhile, outside, the temperature kept dropping and the mist started gathering.

Why is there mist forming?

By the time we finally got back to the Bridgewater airport, it was around eleven o’clock at night. Gary and Jody both had decided that they wanted to fly back to Roanoke with us in the plane rather than endure the two-hour car ride. Gary had been drinking beer and was worried about walking through the terminal with a six-pack under one arm and an open can in his other hand. Of course, when we got to the airport he realized his fears were unfounded. There was no terminal. There was no one on the little airstrip but us. In fact, there wasn’t even an outside telephone. So, there was no way I could check the weather. So I didn’t.

So we just loaded up, started the engine, and took off—into a moonless night, with mist and haze which had now cut the visibility down to around four miles, in an almost maximum gross weight Cessna 172, down a black valley bordered by high mountains, with a pilot who had but four hours of night time and no experience in the clouds whatsoever.

We often read about accidents stemming from scenarios exactly like this one. Hapless novice pilots get themselves into situations from which they can’t recover on what seems like a regular basis. What scorches my mind suddenly like a bare hand on a hot stove is the speed at which I recognized we were in trouble.

Barely a few moments after leaving the ground I knew we were in distress. There was just enough forward visibility, initially, to keep myself oriented with the lights on the ground. But we were over open farm land. And soon, what few lights there were began to appear fuzzy, with little halos around them. The higher we climbed the worse the visibility became, and I started losing sight of any lights at all except the ones practically straight down. I had thought I’d be able to spot Interstate Highway 81, with its heavy traffic, after passing the city of Staunton and follow it all the way to Roanoke, but that idea rapidly became a cruel joke. We watched the town pass by on our left, but we never found the highway.

On the flight northeastward to Bridgewater, I had chosen 4,000 feet for the cruise because that altitude seemed like an acceptable compromise between the desire for sightseeing and the need for a safety margin while over the taller hills within the deep valley. Now, however, on the flight back to the southwest, I realized that I couldn’t climb much higher than 4,000 feet or so without losing sight of every light on the ground. So, I stayed as high as I could while clinging desperately to each of those dim little lights of orientation like an exhausted swimmer struggling from one life ring to the next.

Not the place to get lost at night.

As pilots, you’re now up to speed concerning the pickle I got myself into. So, in an attempt to be as brief as I can and not drag this thing out any further with dramatics, I’ll list only the pertinent facts from here on out:

Since we were too far away from Roanoke to receive any signals from the ROA VOR at our altitude, I simply chose the reciprocal of our outbound course for our return course. I thought that heading would keep us in the wide valley.

The MOL VOR was either out of service that night or my navigation radio wouldn’t tune it. Either way, it was not available to us.

The only navigation aid I had left was the ADF. I used it to tune in and navigate to a local broadcast radio station in Roanoke: WFIR, 960 AM.

I had no idea how to track a low frequency station, so we homed in on it. By the time we were close enough to Roanoke to receive an adequate signal from the ROA VOR, I located us on the 094 degrees radial.

After passing Staunton, Virginia, I recognized nothing until I confirmed the lights of Roanoke ahead, at about 8 to 10 miles.

Now, if you are still with me and interested in this open confession of incredulous ignorance, get your sectional chart and plot this flight yourself while reiterating these facts: the pilot departed Bridgewater, Virginia late on a cool, damp night in what really were instrument conditions. He confirmed the passing of Staunton, Virginia, on his left a few minutes later. The pilot had only a Private license with 156 total hours of flight time and a paltry 4.2 hours of night flying experience—with of course, only minimal instrument training. The pilot had never before flown in clouds. He maintained a cruising level which averaged about 4,000 feet msl. Mystifyingly, the pilot approached Roanoke not from the northeast as he had planned, but unexpectedly from the east without ever seeing anything on the ground except a few lights scattered here and there—almost perpendicular to his flightpath—until within ten miles of downtown Roanoke.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll allow you to vocalize your own epithets at this point. How we survived that night I’ll never know. It must have been either divine intervention, fate, or just pure dumb luck. Say what you will… I’ve said enough.

Editor’s Note: This article is from our series called “I Can’t Believe I Did That,” where pilots ‘fess up about mistakes they’ve made but lived to tell about. If you have a story to tell, email us at: [email protected].

The post Night, mist, haze, and all that jazz appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2020/07/night-mist-haze-and-all-that-jazz/

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timclymer · 5 years

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Miss Brick House

At nineteen, in 1975, I was selling advertising for the OSU college paper, The Lantern, and submitting stories and getting published in the student “fringe” paper: Our Choking Times. The one where I won their respect as a budding radical, then went flying over the lines of professionalism to date Gil Scott-Heron.

I not only wrote about the older and otherworldly genius radical rapper, I threw caution in my hometown wind, hit the road with him, and well, you know. Ditching college for nearly a week, I boarded a tour bus with Gil, soaking up his celebrity and smiling a smug smile, when other girls stared with hungry eyes. Mostly I watched him read and read and read.

Now I knew why his lyrics were so intriguing. He devoured news magazines and books, speed-reading, thoughts on fire. I tried to be ready with an intelligent comment or witticism, while keeping the goal of my article in mind.

“I like talking to you,” he once said approvingly, eyes smiling as he looked up from U.S. News and World Report. And well my heart did little flips as the bus clipped along.

In 1976, I would have flashbacks of our recent time together: Gil, handsome, angular-faced and charmingly disheveled sat backwards on a chair across from me, as I lay robed in his hotel bed and dreamily drank wine. He enthusiastically entertained his enraptured audience of one. I alternated between laughter and awe, as he tossed off brilliant dialogue and humor with an upturned finger, woven in with his trademark political rhapsody and a wacked, uncombed, uncared-about afro.

My merriment only slightly dimmed by an shadowy sense of foreboding when Gil made a point of taking frequent “artistic time-outs” to do copious lines of cocaine from an album cover on The Holiday Inn hotel dresser. Credit to him, he didn’t corrupt me with his coke, which I had turned down the first day. I was still terrified by cocaine–then. And he let me stay happily “in my cups”, replenishing my drink stash at every rest stop. Back in that day, a man who never let my drink run out, was the epitome of a gentleman to me, which made it hard to focus on diamonds and more upscale amenities.

Wrenching myself away from that rendezvous for a season, I became the sometimes-faux, oft-times truly-dedicated student again and dove into my college classes for another year or so.

Mostly I wrote from the soul, without getting intimately involved–all in preparation for my coming career in broadcast journalism. That is until I got sidetracked again, but by this time I was twenty-one. Hey, I was grown! But my grown self was running a semester behind my scheduled graduation date. My degree had to wait for spells of heavy drinking, the local party scene and manic depression hovering in the wings.

At least school was out for a season, because it was the smoking-hot Summer of 77″!! A friend of a friend, a concert promoter, borderline dirty old man. (he was late 40’s which at 21 seemed pretty ancient.) This guy submitted my name to a contest, then told my friend that I’d be perfect with some coaching and could probably win.

It was a beauty contest, but sort of an invented one for publicity to launch Lionel Richie and The Commodores’ concert tour and promote the hit record du jour. The song soaring up the charts was “Brick House”–helping to make The Commodores one of Motown’s hottest groups. The contest was for Miss Columbus (Ohio) Brick House.

The winner at the national level it was promised, would also snag a movie role with the exceedingly cool, Billy Dee Williams in his next movie. I was jazzed beyond rhythm-and-blues. Fifteen girls competed at “Ciro’s”, the popular Columbus dance club, sort of Miss America style, in swimsuits and heels and then revealed their “intellect” or “wit” when asked a serious question.

To be honest, there was a girl who was a Brick House bombshell, with a sensational eye-popping figure, judging by the collective stares of the men in the audience, but the dear bombshell appeared dumb as a bag of hammers! (She wasn’t, just shy.) I was pretty adept at stringing a sentence together, and she fumbled over her name. Since they wanted a kind of spokesmodel winner, I won.

Sandi, the Bombshell, became the runner-up and we became fast friends, because at that point, The Commodore’s management closed down the contest and picked the two of us to go on Tour with the group.

We won gift certificates and free travel, limo rides, meals, money for clothes. We stood behind barricades in record stores in swimsuits, high heels and fake furs and signed autographs, along with The Commodores. I always wore a pair of slacks over my swimsuits in public when offstage, because I didn’t want to look sluttish. I was actually aiming for something sophisticated, sexy and upscale. Years later, Beyonce’ pulled it off.

Sandi and I roomed together, giggled, gossiped and drank champagne while we traveled to Philadelphia, Hartford, Connecticut, Boston, and made a pit stop in Dayton before the tour was to have a huge concert at Madison Square Garden in New York City.

It was at a packed arena in Philadelphia that I was “crowned” the official stage dancer on tour and I was ecstatic to be onstage with Lionel Richie and The Commodores.

“She’s a Brick House–she’s mighty, mighty!” they sung in snug, glittering military-style suits–a vision for testosterone-deprived eyes. And I’d do a wham-bam funky yet feminine, hip thrust as I wound my provocative dance to position myself in between Lionel Richie and William King.

“A-A-O-O-W”, I would think while William Orange actually sang it.

I was developing a serious crush on Lionel, but would try to reign it in whenever his pretty wife, Brenda, stage left, arms folded, looked at us, sullen from the sidelines. I was told by the road manager, she had been doing that for the last two years, but now it seemed definitely directed at me. That angst and heady excitement became a combustible mix that changed the show’s routine it seemed during one concert.

The routine was that Sandi would dance solo from stage right and I’d dance solo from stage left. Once during a concert the air charged with anti-matter, the routine was interrupted at the pit stop in Dayton. There was a rustling, a din, and then complete clamor and chaos.

Suddenly a “boo” erupted from the back. What had started as a tiny disturbance, quickly became something monstrous. 10,000 people packed in the arena began booing in a huge roar for almost a full, tortuous minute.

I was mortified, spinning dizzily as I finally stumbled offstage when the song was over, almost tripping over my sky-high heels. Try hiding wearing a neon-orange bathing suit. I ran into a photographer who was stage side, who became one of my best friends over the years.

“Why did they boo?” I broke out in little-girl sobs, heaving in-between blurted words, “I was thinking I did my best Chaka Khan dance moves,”

“I was in the back of the arena earlier,” Chuckie laughed, “and I heard a loud, crazy protest, people complaining—Miss Brick House is white! Miss Brick House is white!”. Then everyone started booing, not even knowing why they were booing,” he said. “Just really stupid.”

“But I’m not white!” I wailed, “I’m a black woman, a light-skinned black woman.” (African-American was not yet in vogue.)

“Oh, of course I can see that,” said Chuckie, “but wa-a-ay in the back with bright lights washing out your skin tone and the fact that you sometimes wear that straightened Farrah Fawcett-looking hairdo—well, I guess they just couldn’t tell.” Tears of laughter brimmed Chuckie’s eyes and he wiped them away with his knuckles.

I found it hard to laugh with him or even chuckle. To be booed by 10,000 people in a roar of disapproval back then, made me wish the earth would quake, open up and consume me quickly, no matter what the reason.

The next morning on the road again, I had washed and curled and frizzed my hair, letting it dry naturally. But I continued to whimper about the night before. Yet it seemed to disturb nobody but me, which I found amazing. I thought they would send me home. Then I remembered the performer’s mantra:

“The show must go on.”

I also thought of Lionel Richie’s smile. Did I care he was married? Only when I examined his wife’s face did I feel a wave of guilt. She seemed so unhappy about the nightly crush of women. Yet I wasn’t a groupie, I sniffed to myself. ‘Hey, I’m Miss Brick House! I’m not only with the band, I’m in the show!’

That sense of entitlement combined with the bitter-sweetness of an early hallway smile beamed in my direction. And light conversation between Lionel and me–and I only cared for my own selfish joy.

That summed up a 21-year old woman-child, with a dusty Bible and a neon orange bathing suit strutting nightly onstage with a supergroup, led by a friendly, incredibly talented, rich and famous man. I was dancing a dream and anything seemed possible. And so I danced.

Source by Tory Connolly

from Home Solutions Forev https://homesolutionsforev.com/miss-brick-house/ via Home Solutions on WordPress from Home Solutions FOREV https://homesolutionsforev.tumblr.com/post/188020942960 via Tim Clymer on Wordpress

#Home Solutions FOREV

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homesolutionsforev · 5 years

Text

Miss Brick House

“I like talking to you,” he once said approvingly, eyes smiling as he looked up from U.S. News and World Report. And well my heart did little flips as the bus clipped along.

Wrenching myself away from that rendezvous for a season, I became the sometimes-faux, oft-times truly-dedicated student again and dove into my college classes for another year or so.

It was at a packed arena in Philadelphia that I was “crowned” the official stage dancer on tour and I was ecstatic to be onstage with Lionel Richie and The Commodores.

“A-A-O-O-W”, I would think while William Orange actually sang it.

“Why did they boo?” I broke out in little-girl sobs, heaving in-between blurted words, “I was thinking I did my best Chaka Khan dance moves,”

“But I’m not white!” I wailed, “I’m a black woman, a light-skinned black woman.” (African-American was not yet in vogue.)

“The show must go on.”

That sense of entitlement combined with the bitter-sweetness of an early hallway smile beamed in my direction. And light conversation between Lionel and me–and I only cared for my own selfish joy.

Source by Tory Connolly

from Home Solutions Forev https://homesolutionsforev.com/miss-brick-house/ via Home Solutions on WordPress

#Home Solutions Forev

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easytravelpw-blog · 6 years

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Full text write on https://easy-travel.pw/the-best-beach-bars-in-the-caribbean/magazine/

The Best Beach Bars in the Caribbean

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Caribbean Beach Bars: Sunny Days and Lively Nights

Photo via Pexels

Beach bars are the epitome of the mellow Caribbean vibe, a distillation of sun, sand, rum, reggae, and the untamed personalities that make island life the best. Here's some of the Caribbean beach bars we think should be on your travel itinerary — heck, maybe even the point of your visit in the first place!

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The Soggy Dollar, Jost Van Dyke, BVI

For decades, BVI boaters have been wading ashore on Jost Van Dyke with pockets full of sodden cash to seek refreshment at the Soggy Dollar Bar, famous for inventing the Painkiller rum cocktail. Down a couple of these nutmeg-sprinked concoctions and suddenly that ring game either becomes a cinch or the biggest challenge since trigonometry, depending on how the buzz hits you. Best to grab a bite to eat while you are here (three meals are served daily), and if you overindulge you can ask about a room at the adjoining Sandcastle Hotel.

Check BVI Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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The Bomba Shack, Tortola, BVI

Constructed largely of driftwood and other odds and ends, the Bomba Shack is held together in part by a collection of donated bras, panties, and other “unmentionables” from guests past and present. Yes, this Tortola bar is an adults-only place, and the party really gets going on nights when the moon is full and Bomba's (possibly psychedelic) mushroom tea starts flowing. Rum, dancing, live bands and Bomba himself add to the fun.

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Foxy’s, Jost Van Dyke, BVI

Photo by Bob Curley

Many of the best Caribbean beach bars are named after their long-time proprietors, and that's the case with Foxy's on Jost Van Dyke, where owner Foxy Callwood is not only omnipresent but also provides the entertainment (on guitar and vocals) and concocts the libations (homemade rum and four varieties of microbrewed beer). Foxy's is famous for having the Caribbean's best New Year's Eve party (known as Old Year's here), but you can drink, dance, dine and lime at this British Virgin Islands bar anytime — but especially on weekends where they get their big barbecue going.

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Cow Wreck Beach Bay, Anegada, BVI

A shipwreck that spilled a load of cow bones onto this beach on Anegada gave the Cow Wreck Beach Bar it's unusual name, but that's hardly the only odd thing that's washed ashore to suck down a Cow Killer punch or three from the honor bar. This being the BVI, the beach of course is gorgeous, and the Cow Wreck may be one of the few bars in the world where you can go surfcasting and catch your own dinner (or keep it simple and order the delicious conch fritters or lobster). If you overindulge or just can't get up the will to depart, you can rent one of the Cow Wreck's oceanfront villas for the night.

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Iggie’s, St. Thomas

Located next door to the Bolongo Bay resort, Iggie's is the best beach bar on St. Thomas and also quite convenient to the hotels of Charlotte Amalie. This is a bona-fide restaurant as well as a bar, featuring an excellent Caribbean buffet during the weekly Carnival night that includes moko jumbies, fire walkers, live calypso bands, and more. But Iggies' real claim to fame is that it hosts live music every night of the year, ranging from local acts to surprise guests like Stevie Wonder.

Check USVI Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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07 of 18

Sunshine’s, Nevis

Sunshine's is the most famous bar on the quiet island of Nevis, a focal point for local nightlife as well as a magnet for visitors, including those staying at the luxurious Four Seasons Nevis Resort next door. Sunshine's is far from posh — the main building houses a restaurant where you can plop onto a weatherbeaten couch and order a burger or some local fish, and there are several covered pavilions to provide shade when you want to sit closer to the water and sip on one of Sunshine's famous Killer Bees, a rum punch made with local moonshine. Have a few of these and you'll be sleeping on the beach — not a bad thing, since Pinney's Beach is Nevis' longest and prettiest stretch of sand.

Check St. Kitts and Nevis Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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08 of 18

Shiggidy Shack, St. Kitts

Frigate Bay in St. Kitts is home to a cluster of lively beach bars — all within walking distance of the St. Kitts Marriott Resort — but the most famous is Mr. X's Shiggidy Shack, known for its grilled lobster and lively mix of college students, expats, tourists and locals. The shack is open daily from 10 a.m. on, but heats up at night with a Thursday night bonfire, live music on Fridays, and karaoke on Saturday nights.

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09 of 18

Le Petibonum, Martinique

Chef Guy Ferdinand — a.k.a. “Chef Hot Pants” — is the main attraction at the rare beach bar where the food, not the drinks, are the main draw. That's not to say that you can't get a good drink here: after all,Martinique is part of France, so of course the wine list is fabulous, and there's also local rhum agricole and Biere Lorriane to consider. But that's just a prelude to fine French dining on the beach, from escargot to filet mignon to the freshest local fish and lobster. All served under a simple canopy in the sand and just steps from the bar's private beach chairs, cabanas, and the crashing surf.

Check Martinique Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Sundowner’s, Roatan

People travel to the island of Roatan (off the coast of Honduras) to truly get away from it all, but when you want to get away from it all ON Roatan, you head to Sundowner's. Located on Half Moon Bay Beach on Roatan's West End, Sundowner's has most of the attributes you want in a beach bar: cheap drinks, good food, mellow waters, plenty of room to spread out to work on your tan, and character galore. Settle under a palapa and sip a frozen Monkey Lala while the sun sets over the Caribbean, surrounded by friends old and newly made, and you'll be channeling the true spirit of the islands.

Check Roatan Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Castaways, Antigua

This Jolly Beach hot spot is known for its great burgers and sundowners after a day spent lolling in the sand. If you are an early beach person, Castaway's serves breakfast daily, and while you'll find plenty of Caribbean food on the menu, they also serve Chinese cuisine some nights. Take in the spectacular sunset and settle in for a laid-back evening of fun Antigua style, including the weekly Friday bonfire.

Check Antigua Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Da Conch Shack, Turks and Caicos

Cracked conch is the speciality of the house at Da Conch Shack, a Turks and Caicos gathering place that has managed to maintain its authentic aura despite the rapid development of Providenciales in recent years. This Blue Hills Beach bar and restaurant serves a mean rum punch alongside off-the-boat fresh seafood — well worth the drive out to settle in on one of the picnic tables in the sand for lunch, dinner, or just people-watching with drink in hand.

Check Turks and Caicos Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Basil’s, Mustique

Photo courtesy of Basil's

If you want a “see and be seen” experience in the Caribbean, head to St. Barts. But if you want a chance to rub elbows with celebrities where nobody really cares who you are, visit Basil Charles' laid-back beach bar on Mustique in the Grenadines, where everyone from Mick Jagger to members of Britain's royal family have come in for a toot over the years. The place may not get as wild as it did in its '70s heyday, but on the bright side the food has gotten better, and you can still drink and dance above the waves into the wee hours. The annual Mustique Blues Festival, held at Basil's and featuring performers like Julien Brunetaud, is the event of the year on this tiny, tony island.

Check Mustique Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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The Dune Preserve, Anguilla

Lots of beach bars have live music, but the Dune Preserve in Anguilla is one of the few in the Caribbean that qualifies as a bona fide concert venue. Owner Bankie Banx is a renowned reggae artist in his own right, and the annual Moonsplashcelebration brings in diverse acts from around the world. You can walk here from the CuisinArt resort (or after a round of golf at the neighboring Temenos course) and settle into the ramshackle, open-air bar and restaurant for a Duneshine or rum punch. If Bankie himself is performing there's a cover charge, but usually other entertainment is free.

Check Anguilla Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Nippers, Great Guana Cay, Bahamas

This bright and cheerful beach bar in theOut Islands of the Bahamas is a wet and wild experience with two big beachside pools, a lively tiki bar, and hopping dance floor. The weekly (Sunday) pig roast is a can't miss, and if you're lucky you'll be in town for one of the semi-annual Barefoot Man concerts, a true “only in the island” happening where a local musician rounds up his buddies and thousands of fans flock to a tiny cay to hear the show.

Check Bahamas Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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The Pelican Bar, Treasure Beach, Jamaica

You can see the beach from the Pelican Bar — but from the water side, not the shore side. What may initially appear to be a pile of woody debris washed up on an offshore sandbar near Treasure Beach is in fact one of the most unique bars inJamaica. Call in your lobster lunch in advance, then hop onto a rickety boat for the short ride out to the bar, where owner Floyd will take a break from dominos to serve you some cold Red Stripes. You can mellow out on the dock or hop into the water (it's only a few feet deep around the bar) to do some snorkeling. Since you've made it out here, be sure to leave some memento of your visit on the walls — carved initials, a license place, articles of clothing …

Check Jamaica Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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The Wreck Bar, Rum Point, Grand Cayman

Take the free ferry from the busy West Side of Grand Cayman to laid-back Rum Point, and the picnic tables at the Wreck Bar are as about as casual as it gets (other than the beach hammocks, of course). Want a break from all that Caribbean rum? Order one of the famous Wreck Bar mudslides to go along with the surprisingly sophisticated pub grub (there's a gourmet restaurant attached to the bar).

Check Cayman Islands Rates and Reviews at TripAdvisor

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Elvis’ Beach Bar, Anguilla

Elvis himself — OK, not the “Love Me Tender” one — tends bar at this popular beach bar in Sandy Ground. Elvis Beach Bar is appropriately built from an old boat, and Elvis' gets especially lively during NFL football games (there's a big screen TV to watch on). You can step out of the shade at the boat bar to the roof deck to work on your tan, Elvis' specialty rum punch in hand.

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anywherewecan-blog · 7 years

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Barbados holiday guide: the best beaches, restaurants, bars and places to stay

New Post has been published on http://anywherewecan.com/2017/03/31/barbados-holiday-guide-best-beaches-bars-restaurants-hotels/

Barbados holiday guide: the best beaches, restaurants, bars and places to stay

More from Guardian Travel…

Barbados holidays

Holiday guides

You don’t need a pop star’s budget to enjoy the palm trees and ‘sunny Caribbean sea’ of this popular island. Genie Austin reveals her homeland’s best beaches, cheap eats, rum shops and typically tropical activities

Whoa! … Pebbles Beach, near Bridgetown, Barbados. Photograph: Alan Copson/Getty Images

Barbados holiday guide: the best beaches, restaurants, bars and places to stay

When I tell people I’m from Barbados, I usually get some variation of the same response. “Ooh, paradise,” they say, as they conjure up coconut trees, tropical drinks, bright sunshine and foam-crested azure waves.

But on an island where holidays can come at shockingly high prices, this idea of paradise feels woefully beyond the reach of the average traveller. However, as every Bajan knows, the charms of this tiny coral island between the Caribbean and the Atlantic can be unlocked without breaking the bank at a luxury hotel or being limited by a package deal.

There are plenty of charming low-cost hotels, cheap-and-cheerful eateries and bars, under-the-radar beaches and free or low-cost fun activities to be enjoyed if you know where to look.

Barbados map

WHAT TO DO

Take a hike

Barbados doesn’t have soaring peaks, waterfalls, rivers or tropical rainforests like some of its neighbours. Nevertheless, it is a tropical island, and its vegetation can be lush, wild, and breathtakingly beautiful. Hike Barbados is a local organisation that conducts free hikes through less accessible areas. Its three-hour hikes run throughout the year, with morning walks starting at 6am, afternoon walks at 3.30pm, and moonlight walks at 5.30pm. • barbados.org/hike.htm

Watch the sun sunrise at Farley Hill

Old 19th-century Sugar Plantation House, Farley Hill. Photograph: Alamy

At least once during every visit to Barbados, we get up 45 minutes before dawn and drive to Farley Hill national park to watch the sunrise. Farley Hill, a ruined plantation house, is worth a visit on its own merits, but try sitting atop the hill in its grounds overlooking the Atlantic one cool morning, and watch the sky gradually lighten before the sun finally makes its dramatic appearance. All the while, blackbirds and wood doves lend their approval to this feat of nature, as the wind whistles through the large casuarina trees along the hilltop’s ridge. It’s an unforgettable experience. And although it’s an isolated spot, it’s quite safe. On our last visit we noticed the park has added an overnight security guard at the entrance. • barbados.org/fhill.htm

Catch a drive-in movie

I grew up going to open-air, drive-in cinemas, so was surprised to find they’re not the norm everywhere. There’s still one in Barbados, the Globe Drive-In in Vauxhall, and I always go when I’m home because it’s a unique experience. Tickets are £6. If your accommodation will permit it, take blankets and pillows for a picnic under the stars while you watch your flick. You’ll be almost entirely among locals, and when the film reaches a dramatic moment – like the satisfying death of a villain – be ready for the chorus of car horns beeping their approval. • globedrivein.mobi

See the Christmas parade

Photograph: Alamy

If you have the good fortune to be in Barbados in the festive season, head to Queens Park in the capital, Bridgetown, on Christmas morning, where dressed up people promenade in a ritual going back over 100 years. The park, formerly the grounds of the Commander of the British troops in the West Indies, was acquired by the government in the early 1900s. In 1907 it commissioned the Royal Barbados Police Band to hold free morning Christmas concerts to establish it as a people’s park. You’ll be blown away by the colourful and outlandish outfits, sexy Santa costumes and splendid ballgowns. Walking around in 30C heat, rum punch in hand, caught up in the festivity of a tropical Christmas, sums up for me the meaning of peace on Earth and goodwill to all men.

BEST BEACHES

Barbados has some of the most beautiful beaches in the Caribbean and although in recent years erosion has taken its toll, there are still many unspoilt gems. The key is to choose a beach based on what you want to do, or not do.

Paradise Beach

Photograph: Getty Images

The west coast of Barbados is fringed by the calm Caribbean, so is ideal for relaxing. I have a few favourites here, but Paradise Beach is my top pick. It gets its name from a hotel that was here until the 1980s. With its closure, and efforts to open another hotel stalled for years, it’s an oasis of peace, interrupted only by the occasional boat or jet ski. Most visitors have no idea the beach exists – you get there by walking south from neighbouring Batts Rock Beach – but it’s a wonderful place for relaxing, swimming and enjoying the peace.

Paynes Bay

Photograph: Hans-Peter Merten/Getty Images

My second-favourite beach on this coast is a great place to try jet skiing, sailing and waterskiing, and for finding a boat to go swimming with hawksbill and leatherback turtles. There are organised tours from £80, but the many local operators of jet skis and boats will do deals for around half that for a 30-minute excursion, including snorkelling equipment. Paynes Bay is a short walk from the Sandy Lane Hotel beach, for some discreet spotting of celebrities such as Gwyneth Paltrow, Mark Wahlberg, and Naomi Watts.

Pebbles Beach

For a more meditative beach experience head just south of Bridgetown. The water in this sheltered bay is quite still, making it an excellent place for standup paddleboarding (SUP). Paddle Barbados offers classes at £50 for a 90-minute group class, and SUP Yoga at £30 for a 75-minute class. • paddlebarbados.com

WHERE TO EAT

Eating out in Barbados can be very expensive, and food costs can exceed those of accommodation. Happily, though, there are plenty of good inexpensive eateries on both sides of the island.

Sand Dunes Bar and Restaurant, Windy Hill

This restaurant on the island’s rugged east coast is one of my favourites. The food is simple and unpretentious but fresh and full of flavour. The menu changes daily and consists of local favourites such as breadfruit coucou (mashed with butter and milk), salt fish with gravy, and a salad or side vegetables. There may also be fried flying fish served with rice and peas, and macaroni pie. A full meal will cost around £12 a head. • Ermy Bourne Highway, Windy Hill, +1 246 422 9427

Animal Flower Cave, North Point

Aside from the delicious, if slightly pricy, food – rotis from £13, salads from £10 – what makes this restaurant stand out is its location on the cliffs of North Point, where between December and April humpback whales can be spotted playing in the surf. Beneath the restaurant is the island’s only accessible sea cave, Animal Flower cave, known for its fascinating sea anemones (animal flowers). Guided visits adult £8, child £4. • +1 246 439 8797, animalflowercave.com

Orange Street Grocer, Speightstown

Bajans are not big coffee drinkers, but a handful of places serve really good coffee, and this beautifully designed cafe, with a large terrace overlooking the ocean, is one of them. It’s a great place to start the morning or watch the sun go down in the evening. It serves salads, pizza and other light fare, but I find these a little pricey, so usually stick to coffee and one of their tasty desserts, which cost around £6. • theorangestreetgrocer.com

Cuz’s Fish Shack, near Pebbles Beach

Even if you’re not staying on the south coast, pay a visit to this colourful and somewhat ramshackle Barbadian equivalent of a food truck. Cuz first became a favourite among divers and surfers on nearby Pebbles Beach. The “cutters” – the local term for any sandwich made using a bun known as salt bread – are filled with fried steakfish, tomato, lettuce, Bajan pepper sauce and a bit of mayo, with optional toppings of cheese or a fried egg. They cost £2–£5 and are delicious with a cold Banks beer or a Plus, an energy drink made from sugar cane. • On Facebook

WHERE TO DRINK

Rum shops, everywhere

John Moore Bar; one of many rum shops on the island. Photograph: Alamy

Bajans like to boast that Barbados is the birthplace of rum. Records show that the honour might actually belong to Brazil, but Barbados is the unrivalled champion of the rum shop scene in the Caribbean – they have been part of our landscape for more than 300 years. They come in every shape, colour and size, and are much more than just a bar: they’re a place for friends to meet, drink, talk politics, tell jokes, and play dominoes. And they are incredibly cheap. In general, a beer costs about £1.50, a rum punch (a deliciously refreshing concoction of rum, lime juice, sugar cane syrup, a splash of Angostura Bitters and a scrape of nutmeg) is £4, and a small bottle of rum is just £2. The best approach is to simply walk into any shop that catches your fancy – they are convivial places where everyone is welcomed.

One Love Bar, Holetown

On one of my return visits, I wandered into this bar with my husband Andrew. I’d never been there before, but we were tired and needed a break from the heat. We ordered two bottles of Plus, and were promptly told by one of the patrons, who was already pretty plastered at 3pm, that men don’t drink Plus. He then proceeded to pour Andrew some of his white rum, and there followed a pleasant afternoon of aimless, good-natured chatter and much drinking. One Love Bar is a bit of an anomaly among the expensive restaurants and swanky boutiques of the west coast, and we’re always relieved when we return to see it still there going strong. • 1st Street, Holetown, on Facebook

Bay Tavern, Martin’s Bay

Bajans come from all corners to this east coast fishing village to “lime” (hang out) and “fire a rum”. Thursday afternoons are particularly popular, so stop by then as it has a real party atmosphere. It also does lunch and dinner. Local dishes, grilled marlin, rice and peas and fried plantain, say, are delicious at around £10. • On Facebook

WHERE TO STAY

South Gap Hotel, St Lawrence Gap

Photograph: Leslie St John

The south coast of Barbados has a party reputation, so this is the place for those whose idea of a perfect holiday involves frequent nights out. The South Gap is a modern hotel with pool, restaurant and bar in St Lawrence Gap, a lively 1.3 km stretch of road in the parish of Christ Church. A studio for two with balcony and mini kitchen costs from £100 B&B. • southgapbarbados.com

Becky’s by the Sea, Fitts Village

Just across the road from the beach in Fitts Village on the west coast, this modern guesthouse has two en suite rooms from around £50 a night. Guests have use of living areas, several patios and kitchen. Becky’s doesn’t offer breakfast but promises that you’ll wake to “freshly brewed coffee, herbal teas, local fruit and juice when in season”. For more substantial fare, take a bus to Holetown, a few miles up the road, where Bean’n’Bagel cafe does a real Bajan breakfast of fried flying fish and bakes (the local version of a pancake) or a more traditional cooked breakfast. • beckysbythesea.com

The Stables, Little Holders House, Holetown

Photograph: Genie Austin

For £55 a night for two, this spacious, fully equipped cottage a few miles further up the west coast has a large patio, open-plan layout and a mixture of traditional and modern furniture. It offers quintessential Caribbean living. • airbnb.com

Rostrevor Hotel, St Lawrence Gap

Photograph: Leslie St John

The most affordable approach to a Barbados family holiday is to self-cater, but to escape household chores, try the Rostrevor Hotel. This beachfront property on the south coast has doubles with small kitchens from about £94 a night room only. It also has a poolside bar-restaurant. • rostrevorbarbados.com

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