After an anchoring at Store Bay, you take your dinghy and head for the beach. On arrival, you drag the dinghy up the beach and chain it to a palm tree – swapping pleasantries with the local rasta who are sitting in the shade writing lyrics and smoking their own brand of tobaco. You then march a 1/4 mile to a road junction and wait for a bus. They don’t come – so a passing “taxi” – a guy with a car that was given its last rites some years previously, negotiates to take you across the island to the capital, Scarborough. Thirty minutes later you get out at the ferry port and find a tiny office in the deserted ferry terminus building where once more you “check-in” by filling out copious forms in triplicate. Scarborough is a town of about 20k people – small you might think. Excpet when they all talk at once and all have hifi systems that were once used by Pink Floyd.
You reverse the journey, and get back to the dinghy hoping that nothing has been “borrowed” from it or it itself has been “borrowed.” This is the way “day-one” passes in many of the stops along the way. You put out of your mind the prospect that you have to repeat this exercise on the “check-out” lap.
Sights of Tobago.
|Store Bay to Scarborough..||Store Bay|
|Pigeon Point..||Distant views..|
|Posh hotel..||Colonial past…|
|I love signs..||There are a lot of issues for the local mayor to deal with..|