Saba Island. It looms large and majestic off in the distance. It's high peak almost always hidden in the clouds. It called out to us. In the day, and during the night, we could hear the invite... Come. Visit it us, it sang.

Every time we looked at it, it seemed larger and more mysterious. It beckoned its very large rocky finger to us, calling our name, in the whispering winds: Dave and Alex, it was saying... Banyan it was singing... Pay Attention... come... come...

The winds being what they were, we said, oh well, what the heck ... and being the adventurers that we were, we left the calm waters of Simpson Bay Lagoon, right out of the first available bridge opening towards this mountainous peak,



played with the dolphins for just a wee little while,



and then squinted into the magnificence that is Saba, an island in the Caribbean, and the smallest special municipality of the Netherlands. As we got closer, the clouds appeared just a bit more ominous, making us a bit more nervous.



There is no way I can possibly describe how steeply this rock of an island rises from the horizon of dark blue water, no shoreline to speak of, and the most we can impart to you is that our neck got kinked but fast as our heads went back and our eyes travelled up towards the sky where the land disappeared into the clouds. Impressive.

These perilous and rocky shores looked not only hazardous but very uninviting. How could we have wanted to visit here, we wondered ?



And the cruising guides are accurately written when they clearly indicate that if you can survive trying to moor here, in Fort Bay, and feel safety in that, with two bridle lines and serious chafe gear onhand, and then bravely and/or foolishly attempt getting to shore, you will be richly rewarded.

There is serious truth to that.

Our transom bounced way too many feet up and down with the swell as we hung onto the outboard engine for life, trying to get it off the puplit and on the dinghy. A few tense minutes were followed by some serious bleep-able words but we were, thankfully successful, with all our fingers and toes intact to boot.

How Dave made it to the very industrial looking shore that is Fort Bay, semi-dry, to clear Customs, and how I survived the rolling and OMG the mast is almost touching the very dark and scary looking sea, while trying to pack a few basics for our hopeful overnight stay on the Island, is still unknown to either one of us.

Adventurers are we?

Customs called the taxi for us, and for $40, we got a tour of the island, that was reportedly discovered by Columbus in 1493, but he himself wouldn't land here, it was "too dangerous!".

Foolish then are we?

As we've discovered in our travels, these lands were inhabited by peoples long before they were officially "discovered" and Saba is no different, populated first by the Amerindians called Ciboneys about 3000 years ago, then came the Arawak indians who called this place "Siba" (which means rock). Today's descendants claim to be Scottish, Irish, Dutch, and African.

Today, it is part of the Netherlands Antilles, and there are roughly 2000 people who live here, add a few hundred more when the well renowned medical school (Saba University School of Medicine) classes are in session.



There are four towns here, and we got to tour the village of Windwardside (the second largest town), as well as The Bottom, the largest town, and capital, of Saba, as well as going briefly through St Johns and Hells Gate.

Interestingly enough the taxi driver was from Hells Gate, which was renamed to Zions Hill following complaints from the church. It is home to the Holy Rosary Church, as well as where the ladies create the famous Saban Lace. It was closed and the tourist bureau could not call them for a viewing session. Perhaps next time?

We were travelling on a piece of history... on "the road that couldn't be built".



Not one to take "no" for an answer from the Swiss Engineers, Josephus Hassel, perhaps fed up that donkeys were still being used as the main mode of transportation, he, in 1943, took a "correspondence course" (really?) in civil engineering and started the process to build the road, by hand, and it was finished in 1958.



It is THE ONLY island road. It is steep, about one and a half car lengths wide, and curves constantly and quite dangerously, perhaps I felt safety in sitting behind the driver and not having to drive. Perhaps I would have felt safer on a donkey?

The taxi driver dropped us off at the Cottage Club where we secured a room for the night, Cottage Number 1, and were instantly awed and mesmerized by the view from our balcony, a view that had us looking both down towards the plunging descent towards a green nothingness and up, at the cloud covered peaks.

We inhaled the earthy smell of lushness and dampness that is our Earth. If green and brown and humid and lush and moss and ferns had a smell and a visual, this would be it. We could hear, Oh My Goodness, could we hear nature at its best, the crickets, the frogs, the cock-a-doodling of the roosters (be it day or night), Billy Goats Gruff,



and we are sure we heard the braying of some donkeys.

Being surrounded by the incredible size and lushness of this rain forest was beautiful beyond my ability to put into words just how gorgeous,



how rich and vibrant the colours of the greens and the myriad of brightly boastful exotic flowers,



that grow here, were.

Water is an invaluable resource here on the island and it is given, feely, only by the rain. We noticed, on one of our many walks during our way too short a stay here, that each home seems to be equipped with cisterns that collect and store their own private supply of rainwater.



On a interesting side note, some of the older houses seem to house graveyards in their backyard. Sadly, I felt it too intrusive to climb the wall and take a closer look, but... there you go!

The driver mentionned that they, the Sabans, just recently got their electricity (in 1970).

The homes here are something right out of a postcard, idyllic, nestled amid the cliffs, some with white picket fences (and according to the driver, quite pricey at 260K to some priced at over 1 million). Dollars.



Dutch is the official language, and taught along with English and Spanish in schools right from primary. Tri-lingual... No language battles here, folks.

Susan, from the hotel, and friendly as can be, recommended Brigadoon's for supper, made reservations for us, and after a quick swim at the pool and real land shower (with warning signs to not overuse or abuse the water, which, coming from life on a boat, was hard to adhere to) we walked down the street and towards town for our evening dinner reservations.

Brigadoons is owned by Michael (from Lebanon) and Tricia (from Texas): she was the lively and oh so friendly hostess, he the cook, and they've been in operation for 14 years. She informed us it was time to do something different, like for example, learn how to "tattoo makeup". Why not?

"This is the first year I've had to lock the restaurant up at night when we go home" she said, "the kids were getting into the liquor".

A table right by the patio, in this converted 1800's Saban home now restaurant, overlooking the lushness of the perfect nature backdrop, Dave moaned in delight at the Seafood Chowder, and I at the fish terrine.

Dave had Chef Michael's special, the shrimp pasta, that elicited more groans and I, the baked, almond encrusted grouper, in mustard sauce, with veggies and rice. Accompanied by a bottle of wine, and a Mediterranean pistachio cheesecake, the meal was simply one of the best we've had, so far, and the price very reasonable.

It was the perfect place to celebrate (a tad belatedly) Dave's birthday. Both Chef Michael and his wife came out to chat with us, as did each and every one of the staff. The lit candle on the cheesecake, the friendliness of the people here still makes us smile today. Aaron, the waiter (aka, photographer), told us all about himself, his wife, his family, life on Saba. The next day, dropping in to visit the Tourist Bureau, and in talking to the very lovely and helpful lady, we discovered she was his wife. Small world. Saba!

Much to the Saban's delight (but perhaps to the visiting tourists, not so much), it rained, but rained hard during the night, filling up the cisterns and water supplies, so the next morning's walk, that took us to the Trail Shop,



where we, being adventurers and all, decided we might try and head towards Mt Scenery, the highest peak (and potentially active volcano) of the island.

However, 167 steps into our (very steep) journey,



we decided that since it had rained, and everything was wet, we didn't have the proper shoes, or supplies with us (water, knife, first-aid kit?), that it simply would NOT be prudent to continue.

It had nothing to do with the fact that we were, after 167 very steep and inclined steps, just simply put, huffing and puffing, and most certainly not in shape to continue ?

So back down the 167 steps we came, and are sad to report that we did NOT get the certificate, that accredits us as having climbed the steep 1064 steps to reach new heights of adventure-dom, that of the potentially active volcano that is Mt Scenery. If there were certificates to be handed out for shaky legs and profuse sweating we would certainly have merited, not one, but a few, of those!



Man, you have to be in shape to be adventurin' these days. HA !



An afternoon in the pool to relieve the aching muscles of all that strenuous exercise,



certainly helped, followed by a delicious in-house meal of pizza.

Saba Island was tricky to get to, weather conditions having to be just right, not to mention surviving the very rolly Fort Bay. But, as promised, it held us captive, her song stuck forever in our hearts, and we plan to return.

Saba Island, we are not done with you!



We hadn't even begun to explore the many hiking trails, you need a week at least and some recoup time, to do that. We hadn't explored the villages in detail, or seen the Saban Lace in the making. We hadn't snorkelled its many reefs. And we certainly hadn't finished the remaining 900 stairs that were left to get us up to Mt Scenery, but perhaps we need to train our bodies (just a tad) first ?

Saba, we be back, to sing with you !

Note: Saba Island photos posted on our Sailing Banyan Facebook page.