It’s difficult not to get wrapped up in the excitement. As a child you’d look forward to exploring all the ‘features’ of your new action man only to become disappointed that he was just a plastic doll (although eagle eyes action man was the coolest thing to ever) or you’d unwrap a shiny present expecting something cool like ‘walkie talkies’ and end up looking at a pair of slippers. We thought that Christmas was about to come as we were headed to the Tobago Cays, but would the Cays be the geographic equivalent of Action Man or a pair of aquatic slippers at Christmas.

Before we got to ‘The Cays’ there were simply 100’s of places to stop. Amazingly we found a bay devoid of charterers, devoid of swell, protected from the wind but teeming with underwater life. As we looked at the anchor on the bottom and the chain snake around Ruffian we thought all our Christmas’s had come at once. It was as perfect as the eastern Caribbean can be.

The bay around Ruffian was unwrapped as we plunged into the seas and snorkelled around colourful corals and fishies but like the best Christmas’s this was just the stocking. The main present was a dinghy safari away in the next bay. Jumping into the water angry Puffa fish ran for cover never to be seen again but the other fishies must have taken this as a sign of safety as they appeared from everywhere and enveloped us.

Strategically positioning ourselves, just like you do on Christmas morning around the tree, we stopped at the last town before the Cays in Canouan. This was much more than just another stop however. The water was as blue as we have seen anywhere and the boat boys had once again taken charm lessons, but we weren’t set to spend our time in the anchorage.

We thought we’d take in a clockwise romp around the part of the island that we are allowed to walk on. We’d skirt around the exclusive private north of the island, where clearly we weren’t welcome (and we also questioned if that was the case then what would happen to Santa and his Reindeer?) and then take in the stunning reef on the windward side of the isle.

The sun was high and beating down on us as we tackled the first of the hills. At the top we were giving a knowing stare by someone who’d had a better idea than us and was just lazing under a tree. We passed a convenience store where the chatter stopper and the patrons watched as continued our way along the road to the resort. Did these people know something that we didn’t?

Nearing the resort we felt like we were walking up to checkpoint Charlie, guards were everywhere and the illusive path we were looking for was on the wrong side of the barrier. As cars passed us ID’s were checked and only the blessed were let in. Our plea’s fell onto deaf ears and even using our best English with our nicest smiles the custodians of the privacy of the rich and famous could tell that we didn’t belong in a resort where it costs $20k a day to rent a cottage.

Defeated we backtracked along the hot and dusty road and were greeted again by knowing smiles in the convenience store and the chap lazing in the shade knew of our dilemma. By the time we reached town everyone we met knew that we were ‘The white folks who’d been turned away’ and we felt like comrades in arms with our brethren as we stopped and chatted like old friends. We like Canouan.

Commiserating at our failed walk we tuned to ice lollies. We felt that something had been lost in translation as the lady passed one to Fiona that was so yellow it would make a canary look pale and simply said ‘Custard’. Iain was handed one devoid of any colour and was given the description ‘Milk’.

Finding a spot to devour our ice lollies we were looking forward to a surprise as who’s ever heard of Custard or Milk flavour lollies? The shock as we bit into them was intense; they were ‘as advertised’. We’d purchased tubes of frozen custard and milk. Very bizarre but awesome at the same time.

Just as you would on Christmas day we awoke early to find our way into the fabled Tobago Cays. The waters of Canouan shone behind us and those of the Tobago Cays glowed in front. As we tried to open the gift of the Tobago Cays, instead of finding that Santa had left exactly what we wanted, we found the equivalent of an action man with no eyes and slippers with worn out soles. This was not what we were hoping for.

Catering to the rich world of charter boats, boat boys swung by trying to sell loafs of banana bread at EC35, that’s £10, and all the charters blasted about the anchorage as they wanted to see it all, do it all and all at mach 4. As the tide rose so did the chop as it tumbled over the reef leaving Ruffian bucking about like a bronco and so with sleep and safety being more important than ‘just more nice water’, we placed the proverbial wrapping paper tin the bin, cleared up the Christmas morning mess and cleared out to Union Island which is everything was want in the Caribbean.

Although the Tobago Cays were not the gift we wanted, often it’s Christmas eve (Canouan) and Boxing day (Chatham Bay) which really make the season.


Dappled sunlight under the sea.


Underwater forests.


Where fishies frolic.


And we have beaches all to ourselves.


Not a soul.


The water gets lovely as you head south. Would you believe this is in the capital of Canouan.


Just like the best Christmas present. Batteries not included.


The lovely Charlestown Bay, where the wind comes from the west!


And we’ve picked the best of the water.


The exclusive private north of the island that we were ushered away from.


You can’t even get to the 17th century church.


Ahhh lollies after a romp, but never trust Fiona’s choice!


The local shops try to appeal to all nationalities.


Posing.


The lovely water in the Tobago Cays.


But ouch they’re crowded.


And the local wildlife helps us check out our anchor.