A clipper in the Caribbean

It's the right size for island visits

Author: By Ann Keefe, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, September 20, 1998

Page: M9

Section: Travel

And so last winter it was the right one-week itinerary that lured us to St. Kitts, where the Yorktown Clipper was due to embark for Nevis, Dominica, and Mustique, islands we had long wanted to explore, plus three others we had hoped to revisit: St. Lucia, Bequia, and, especially, Grenada.

Like Goldilocks's chair, 10-year old Clipper's size seemed just right -- not too big to fit into untrammeled harbors, and, with about 100 passengers, not so small as a yacht or freighter where intimacy might be chancy but unavoidable.

It seemed like a good idea to get the most out of our air fare with extra days in St. Kitts first and in Grenada later. At a beach hotel on tranquil St. Kitts' southeast peninsula, we blissed out while the sun shone.

When Mount Liamuiga's 3,792-foot-high volcanic peak punctured the rain clouds, we visited a batik craft studio deep in a flowering forest.

Another day we climbed Brimstone Hill to a 300-year-old citadel with a strategic -- and gorgeous -- five-island view.

On the fourth day, we taxied through fields of sugar cane to Basseterre, the capital, where the 257-foot Yorktown Clipper waited for us at the pier, dwarfed by oceangoing behemoths. Our cabin was small and cozy, its spotless bathroom happily equipped with a hair dryer. Unpacked and changed into clean pants and polo shirts, we joined everyone else in a sunny lounge that served as library, bar, lecture hall, and buffet for those who preferred light breakfasts and lunches.

We helped ourselves to hot hors d'oeuvres and sipped wine as the young cruise director introduced the staff lecturers: a historian, a naturalist, and a water sports director. An imposingly tall native of St. Lucia with the bearded visage of an Old Testament prophet, historian Gregor Williams gave a scholarly run-down of St. Kitts's history, then a droll explanation of how to play cricket, necessary, he grinned, as teams would be drawn up for a match on Nevis. Next introduced, to much applause, were repeat passengers, the majority, it seemed, of those aboard. Why, we wondered, should people be applauded for doing themselves a favor?

At 6:30, the gong rang for the single dinner seating. We descended to a dining room set with tables of four and six. Greeted by name at the door by a smiling hotel manager, we felt flattered, forgetting that we were all wearing name tags. ``Sit anywhere you like,'' she said, so we joined two couples (60ish, like almost everyone) who turned out to be part of an Audubon group.

Sticking together, though, wasn't their style. An open, friendly ambience prevailed.

Our tablemates pronounced all four courses delicious. Unpretentious fare, well-prepared and presented, seemed the chef's rule. Freshly-caught grouper was a more popular choice than roast beef. The night's dessert special was a flaky peach tart. Wine was reasonable. But it seemed odd that coffee, a rather weak blend, was served before dessert. The waitresses, like most crew members, were young Americans whose natural good manners reflected well on their parents. Like the passengers, most hailed from the South or Midwest.

The cricket game on Nevis's Pinney's Beach turned out to be a donnybrook but as much fun for those who watched as those who played.

After a barbecue lunch on the white powder sand, some waded to the rafts that motored them off for a shipboard nap. Taxis waited to take the rest into Charlestown, sleepy capital of an island once favored by Princess Diana and her sons. An hour seemed more than enough time to ``do'' the craft shops and tiny, poorly-lit museum.

Dressing for the captain's cocktail party was no problem. On a ship with neither a dance floor nor casino, sequined gowns would be a bit much.

Most men wore blazers. After dinner, a steel band came aboard but played rather listlessly. Towering Dominica, drenched by waterfalls, rivers, and rain, is often said to be the most verdant and primitive Caribbean island. But Roseau, the capital, was neither. A real city, not a town, it teemed with markets.

Primitive enough, though, were the mountain roads leading to a parrot preserve. Bird watchers who took the eight-hour trip returned exhausted but glowing.

Seasickness kept many from dinner. Shallow draft and no stabilizers are the downsides of small ships. Luckily spared, we did our usual one mile, 18 turns around the deck. Our only lost sleep was caused by an erratic air conditioner.

St. Lucia's spectacular twin peaks loomed through our porthole at dawn. Dominica has poor beaches, so Rodney Bay's pellucid waters were doubly welcome as a snorkeling ground.

Years ago, we had explored the old whaling and boat-building island of Bequia and so hoped we'd be able to see Mustique instead. Because this exclusive little island would permit only 25 of us to come ashore on the optional schooner trip, a lottery was held. Happily, our names were drawn.

Waiting for us at Mustique's pier were pickup trucks with canopy-shaded wooden benches. Six of us piled onto one of them and, for $5 each, had a splendidly guided tour past the ultra-manicured vacation homes of Tommy Hilfiger, Mick Jagger, Princess Margaret, and other rich and famous part-time denizens. At the Cotton House pool and nearby Macaroni Beach, bikinied young Brits sunned themselves. At Basil's Bar, back on the waterfront, the elegant elite gave fish-eyed once-overs to a raffishly-garbed group of yachtspeople.

Twenty-five minutes after disembarking in St. George, Grenada's horseshoe harbor town, we had already changed into swimsuits at our low-rise hotel on Grand Anse Beach.

Swimming felt more like dancing in a gently pulsating sea, the color of Mexican glass. Halfway down this 2 1/2-mile arc of fine, white sand, real dancing was going on to the beat of a steel band. Local youths were having a regatta, jumping into their dinghies, snarling their sails, swamping their boats, and cheerfully swimming back to shore.

Between the band's gigs, we could hear a hymn sung by sweet-voiced children at a parochial school, smack on the beach. Elegant Milanese paraded by in flowing outfits. As we strolled off to lunch at a beachfront French restaurant, a braided Raja merchant pestered us to sniff one of his necklaces, its beads consisting of nutmeg and other aromatic plants that give Grenada the nickname of Spice Island.

Under a palm tree, bare feet in sand, we sipped icy French wine and hashed over our vacation. On the ship, all was well-done, everyone agreeable. But here on Spice Island, among people of all ages, nationalities, and races, did our cruise seem a bit too ``white bread''? Maybe so, but certainly it had been pleasant -- that was the key word.

Perhaps what it lacked was another key word, variety.

We paid $3,400 for our cabin on Yorktown Clipper's one-week ``Hidden Islands of the Grenadines'' cruise. Other costs: air fare, $1,159 for two American Airlines tickets from Boston to St. Kitts with a return from Grenada; $175 a day at Frigate Bay Resort, PO Box 137, St. Kitts, W.I., telephone 800-266-2185; $155 a day at Renaissance Grenada Resort, Grand Anse Beach, St. George's, Grenada, WI, phone 473-444-4371.

We did not sign up for Clipper's air package. Thanks to our travel agent's search, we flew to and from the ship at a lower cost and with a more convenient schedule. The tight plane-change schedule offered by the cruise line would cause a few passengers to sail without their luggage, while a 4 a.m. wake-up call was necessary to catch some homeward flights.