VIRGIN GORDA, British Virgin Islands -- This island, a real place in space and time, has become a metaphor in our family for a particular transcendent state of mind. Like the temptress Circe, it has called us back, year after year, for 20 years.
Since 1983, we have visited Virgin Gorda's Spring Bay for the last two weeks of March. We fly from Boston to San Juan, take a small plane to Tortola, and then a boat to Virgin Gorda Yacht Harbor, where we pick up a rental Jeep. After a short drive to the southern end of the island, we climb the stairs and open the door to the same cottage we have rented since 1983.
The opposite of boring, this ritual is wildly comforting. Memories of Virgin Gorda are conflated in our minds: all the fun we have had there, all the natural beauty, all the good times with other vacationers who have become friends. It all melds into one happy glow.
Which year was it that we saw a school of barracuda snorkeling off Great Dog? Or what about the countless trips to Anegada to swim and eat grilled lobsters on the beach? I remember hiking to Copper Mine Point and looking out over all that part of the Caribbean Sea -- the faraway islands of St. John and St. Croix and Tortola. And I cannot forget the Easter egg hunt we set up one year on the lawn when all the chocolate eggs melted in the tropical sun. I remember flashlight tag and all those crazy trips -- up and over the mountain -- no guardrails, no paved roads, no doors or roof on the Jeep.
The house we rent is built on stilts and set amid giant boulders and tropical gardens. Small and hexagonal-shaped, it has slatted wooden hurricane shutters and a wraparound porch where we drink gin and tonics as the sun sets over the sea. In these latitudes in March, Venus appears suddenly just after 7 o'clock -- a big, bright, blowsy planet in the night sky. Fifteen minutes later, comes the Milky Way -- a dome of shimmering stars over palm trees, purplish sea, and mountainous islands. In an uncertain world, here we are safe; we feel we are home.
I never thought I would go to the same place over and over again. It seems boring for a family like ours that so loves to travel, but Virgin Gorda has become a talisman for us. Years ago, my younger daughter's third-grade teacher asked me if Virgin Gorda was a real place. The teachers had become fascinated with the pictures, stories, and magical creatures that burst from my child's imagination every time she got an assignment to write or draw. Virgin Gorda, it seemed, was often on her mind.
In the early days, there were no paved roads, no lights, and no other houses at this end of the island. Now, there are tasteful villas, paved roads, and streetlights. In the old days there were no stores and we had to bring our own food. When our daughters Kate and Elizabeth were small, I had to brave an aggressive jostle of native women each Tuesday morning down at the ferry, with everyone pushing and shoving to get milk when the boat arrived from the St. Thomas dairy. Now you can buy pesto, croissants, and soy sauce, to say nothing of staples like milk and bread. But progress, though inevitable, is depressing.
Chickens and goats still wander around but the herds of cows that used to block the streets were relocated some years ago. Now the streets have names and even street signs and there are guardrails on the road over the mountain. I haven't seen an iguana on Virgin Gorda in almost 15 years, though lizards, hummingbirds, and stingrays remain plentiful.
The cottages and beach at Gauvaberry Spring Bay are unchanged. The houses have no telephones, televisions, washing machines, dishwashers, computer hookups, or unnecessary furniture. Now that there are a few stores on the island, we can really travel light -- a few bathing suits, a sundress, a couple of T-shirts, and shorts. I remember in the early days, disbelieving customs officials asking us what we had to declare on the way back to the United States. ''Absolutely nothing," I would say brightly, pulling dirty laundry and books out of my suitcase, the baby -- now a college student -- on my hip.
''You mean you spent two weeks in the duty-free zones of the Caribbean and you have nothing to declare?"
I would shake my head. ''Nothing."
The odd thing about going back to the same place year after year is that you know exactly what to expect, and whom you will see before the plane lands. Over the years, we have become friendly not only with the owners of the property where we stay, but also with other returning guests. One couple lives in New Haven and we always try to get together during the year. We were all the parents of toddlers together, and now we are the stressed-out parents of teenagers. We used to spend our days building sand castles and taking babies and toddlers to the Crawl, a magical split in the giant boulders leading to a paradise of a baby pool of tepid water and minnows surrounded by otherworldly eroded mountains of rock.
The beach here is its own private world with a small society and unwritten rules. This is a beach for readers, relaxers, couch potatoes. Once, a couple came to the beach with a radio. I now understand what shunning is about. Nobody said a word but shocked looks were more than enough. The couple never returned.
Another year, a real Type A personality arrived -- with his wife and two children. He made a list of everything to do on Virgin Gorda, asking us all for advice and then proceeded to do it all the first day -- drive over the mountain, jog in the noonday sun, rent a sailboat, go windsurfing at Bitter End, snorkel the Baths, explore the Crawl, swim, dance to reggae music at the Bath and Turtle, watch the sun set over Copper Mine Point, play a round of miniature golf there, then have drinks at the Mad Dog. Bored silly on day two of his vacation, he and his family never returned. It was just as well.
After we unpack, we walk down to the beach. It's always beautiful but rarely the same. The clouds are a little different. The sky pinkish instead of purply. Sometimes the waves are high. Mostly the sea is flat, calm, a surreal aquamarine. We go to the shed, take out blue canvas and teak lounge chairs, and join the other guests under the same two tamarind trees looking over the same gorgeous rocks and sea.
Some people snorkel. Others pull out their watercolors. Sometimes a boatload of French people arrive and the ladies walk by topless -- always cause for conversation among the husbands. Occasionally someone will buy a bottle of gin and a package of potato chips and invite everyone back up to their cottage for drinks at sunset. There are many impromptu dinner parties -- but no stress. Everyone contributes something. A mango salad. A pineapple. Fresh tomatoes. A freshly caught fish.
In the early days, the children dug in the sand and crawled through the caves formed by the giant boulders. Now they snorkel, sail, swim, fish, sleep, dance. Once we went to the Flash of Beauty, a local beauty pageant. Another time we went to a reggae concert and had to wait two hours because the boat from St. Thomas carrying the Sensations was delayed.
Years ago, there was literally nothing to do and no place to go. The island only got electricity in 1964 -- the same year the harbor was dredged and a small dirt airstrip was created. The airport, such as it is, still has no lights, so arriving after dark is impossible, and the runway is still unpaved, although the goats that used to wander into the path of oncoming planes seem to have wandered away for good.
What is interesting about coming back to the same place over and over again is that all the happy memories blend into one big seamless memory. I guess I am thinking about Virgin Gorda a lot this year because we will not be returning in March. Our oldest daughter, a college junior, will be at the University of Cape Town, so we will be going there instead. But all any of us will have to do is close our eyes, imagine the boulders, the tamarind trees, and the sea -- and we will be back here.
Maria Karagianis is a freelance writer who lives in Milton.
How to get there
There is no nonstop service from the continental United States to the British Virgin Islands. Connections are usually made through San Juan or St. Thomas in the American Virgin Islands. Lowest round-trip air fare between Boston and San Juan available at press time started at $357 on US Airways. Round-trip travel between San Juan and Beef Island, in the British Virgin Islands, started at $100 on Caribbean Sun Airlines.North Sound Express has boat service from Beef Island to Virgin Gorda. You can also fly directly from San Juan to Virgin Gorda, but not after dark -- because there are no lights on the Virgin Gorda runway -- and the only planes that can land there or are six- or eight-seaters, which may not be great for the squeamish
Dive BVI
Three locations -- Marina Cay, Leverick Bay, and Yacht Harbor
800-848-7078, 284-495-5513
Fully certified instructors staff each location. A two-tank dive for a morning trip costs $85 and a one-tank afternoon dive is $65. Night diving is available, as are special packages.
Where to stay
Biras Creek Hotel
North Sound (Box 54)
284-494-3555, 800-223-1108
Located at a strip of land between two hills, this elegant Relais & Chateaux resort has 140 lush acres on a peninsula only reachable by boat. There are 30 suites and rates are based on double occupancy, and include breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, and dinner as well as all airport transfers. $835 per night for two; up to $1,170 for two in high season.
Bitter End Yacht Club and Marina
North Sound (Box 46)
284-494-2746, 800-872-2392
A family-oriented resort and marina, the Bitter End is only accessible by boat. Accommodations range from comfortable hillside or beachfront rooms with balconies to live-aboard yachts. There are plenty of activities for children and adults including snorkeling and diving trips. In high season, beachfront villas are $585 to $770 per night.
Guavaberry Spring Bay
Vacation Homes
The Valley, Box 20, Virgin Gorda
284-495-5227
Simple hexagonal one- and two-bedroom units scattered on a hillside, amid gardens and boulders, a short walk from a private beach adjacent to the famed Baths. Eleven private villas are also available. People reserve a year ahead. One bedroom house for two guests, $195 per day. Two-bedroom house for $265 per night ($22 each extra person).
Where to eat
Little Dix Bay
Little Dix Bay, Box 70, Virgin Gorda
284-495-5555
The first resort on the island, it recently had a facelift. Come here for a special night out. Entrees $30 to $35.
Giorgio's Table
15 minutes north of Spanishtown
The only Italian restaurant. Lunch entrees $13.50 to $18, dinner $25 to $35.
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