In Tortola, Keeping Stress at Bay

I needed rest, relaxation, inspiration. I needed a place that, in the words of one travel agent, would vacuum my soul.

That place, the agent insisted, was Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.

I wasn’t at all sure one is supposed to have one’s soul vacuumed, and I’d barely heard of Tortola. But I did want my first trip to the Caribbean to be special. And so, professional skeptic that I am, I spent weeks with Web sites and travel guides before I committed to Tortola as the place for my idyllic tropical getaway last November.

It took less than an hour on the island to conclude that I’d made the perfect choice.

I had wanted to visit the Caribbean since I was a kid and my parents brought back exotic stamps, calypso tapes and, for me, a toy steel drum to play along with the music.

That urge grew stronger as the years whizzed by. But I could never stomach the expense and inconvenience of a trek from the West Coast to the Caribbean, especially with Mexico and Hawaii so close and so cheap byn comparison. So when I read last fall that Caribbean islands were wooing West Coast visitors with packages and affordable (sometimes direct) flights, I began planning a solo trip--if I could go for eight nights, and go in style, for under $2,000.

But I was in search of the Caribbean I’d envisioned long ago, and that meant anything but a prepackaged, cookie-cutter trip to a resort packed with drunken revelers or, worse, some cheesy motel on an island with fast-food joints.

Within minutes after landing at Beef Island Airport, I had cleared customs, tiptoed around the snoozing goat just outside and found Neville, the Rastafarian taxi driver who whisked me away on a 45-minute jaunt to my hotel on the other end of the island. On the way, I saw many of Tortola’s laid-back charms: palm trees swaying amid lush groves of tropical vegetation, schooners plying the sparkling turquoise waters of the Caribbean and astounding views of neighboring islands just offshore.

Tortola lies right next to the U.S. Virgin Islands, about 60 miles east of Puerto Rico and 1,100 miles southeast of Miami. With a population of 10,000, it is the largest of the 60 or so British Virgin Islands; the number is vague because some are mere spits of sand and not really habitable.

Tortola immediately showed its British side, with drivers careening along the left sides of roads, save for the occasional tourist who insisted on driving on the right--and into oncoming traffic.

Ever cheerful, Neville swerved around them and sped onward, past parks full of men in starched whites playing cricket, herds of untended goats and boisterous little churches full of congregants belting out Sunday-morning hymns.

Neville sang along with calypso music blaring from the ancient dashboard radio, stopping only to point out historic landmarks. Most date to the time when pirates roamed the Caribbean and clashed with the Dutch, who settled the island in 1648, and the British, who annexed Tortola in 1672.

Soon we veered inland, climbing straight up through verdant mountain passes scented by sugar apple, sea grape and soursop plants and, of course, the sugar cane used to make Tortolan rum.

At the bottom of the other side of the hill, we screeched to a stop at my hotel, Sebastian’s on the Beach, in Little Apple Bay on the northeast shore.

Island hotels range from cheap and minimalist--the A&L; Inn, at $80 or so a night--to the high end--Long Bay Beach Resort, where some quarters top $400 a night.

Sebastian’s is a funky, charming 26-room hotel, all turquoise and coral trim, with friendly staff and large rooms going for $135 a night in high season, including 7% hotel accommodations tax plus 10% service charge. Mine had a queen bed, oversized picture windows and a huge patio with table and chairs.

I splurged on a beachfront single for $150 a night in low season. The surf was so close that on a few nights when the seas were stormy, I was sprayed--pleasantly so--with salt water while lying in bed. On the second floor.

Below my room was a sunning area just big enough for six or so lounge chairs; beyond that was a narrow strip of beach. From my hotel room, it was just a few dozen steps into the surf.

Normally smooth, the beach was dotted with rocks and shells thrown from the sea during Hurricane Lenny, which had raked the islands two weeks before my arrival with 120 mph winds, raging seas and torrential rains, causing millions of dollars in damage throughout the Caribbean. There were still boulders on some roads, and minor hotel and home damage when I got there.

Some might have grumbled about bad timing. Not me. I reveled in the hours I spent wandering the endless stretch of beach, looking for unusual shells and colorful pebbles.

I quickly settled into a routine devoid of ambition or exertion. I spent the first few days getting up late, drinking some strong local coffee and wandering the beach, reading books and swimming in the warm waters, which seemed to change color from every angle.

I ate local Caribbean food--jerk chicken and a sweet local bonefish caught just offshore, usually for less than $10 a heaping plate. On a few occasions when I was too lazy to move, I spent two or three times that amount on similar fare at the decent but overpriced cafe at Sebastian’s.

At sundown I’d wander 100 yards down the beach to the Bomba Surfside Shack--a large open-air agglomeration of driftwood, flotsam and jetsam--to listen to live reggae bands playing under the stars.

Bomba Shack, as the locals call it, has somehow morphed into a Caribbean hot spot known for its monthly full-moon parties, where revelers dance all night. Customers staple their business cards to the rafters; it’s become a testament to Tortola’s global draw, with cards from places as varied as Nebraska and the Netherlands.

I missed a full-moon party by a week. But I caught more than my share of local music at Bomba Shack and other local hangouts along the north coast.

All of them fostered a sense of joie de vivre among their eclectic clientele. At Stanley’s Welcome Bar, Rhymer’s Beach Bar and Quito’s Gazebo, tourists danced alongside grizzled old English boat captains, Rastas, surfer dudes and kids in tie-dyed T-shirts, all of us drinking $3 beers and singing along to the “world beat” music played by Quito, a local guitar legend and vocalist.

By the third day, the stress had ebbed from my body and I became more adventurous. I rented a car and headed back out on those treacherous roads, reminding myself to stay on the correct side.

Rental cars are a must here because the cabbies are so laid-back that they’re often unavailable. A rental car gives you the freedom to explore the many coves. Some are great for snorkeling, like Smuggler’s Cove, where schools of parrotfish meander through clear waters. Others, like Long Bay, are perfect for taking long walks on sugary sands. And Apple Bay’s crashing waves have made it a haven for surfers and Boogie boarders.

Because Tortola is just 12 miles long and three miles wide, you can cover it in a day. One must-see is the old-time port village of Road Town, the island hub just west of the airport, which dates back more than two centuries. Its cobblestoned streets are home to dozens of little shops selling local arts and crafts (like shrunken coconut “pirate heads” and mini-steel drums), local spices and reasonably priced Caribbean-accented clothing. The nearby Riteway supermarket sells most of the foodstuffs the boutiques do--jerk spice and local guava-berry wine, for instance--but at half the price of boutiques.

I visited some fairly whimsical places--the North Shore Shell Museum, which sells conch shells and other exotics from the sea on the honor system. Some cost as much as $30, even though they can be found with a little ingenuity when snorkeling offshore.

Tortola is also home to several interesting communities, such as Marina Cay, where sailors come from all over the world to anchor their boats and party, and Soper’s Hole, another yacht harbor that boasts rows of pastel-colored pubs, shops and houses.

Pirate lore pervades Tortola and the surrounding islands, which are separated by the Sir Francis Drake Channel, named after the English admiral turned buccaneer who sailed through in 1573. Columbus visited the islands on his journey to the New World, naming Tortola after the turtledoves he saw swooping overhead.

Not long after that, the buccaneers came in search of Spanish galleons bound for Europe with Incan gold. Later, Tortola became one leg of the rum-sugar-slaves triangle that bound Africa, the West Indies and the American colonies.

Vestiges of that history abound.

Venture inland, and you’re treated to gorgeous vistas of neighboring islands along windy roads that weave through the undulating hills and mountains, dotted with local beer and barbecue shacks and pastel-colored homes and shops.

The weather on Tortola, especially at the higher reaches, changes in an instant: one minute brilliant sunshine, the next a veil of mist and fog, and then a tropical storm that vanishes as quickly as it came.

As I headed up Sage Mountain in a four-wheel-drive vehicle, I entered lush meadows where horses and cows wandered silently, shrouded in clouds. I parked at Sage Mountain National Park, hopped out and walked up the path and right into a rain forest.

Almost immediately it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into rain and then a drenching downpour that silenced the cacophony of birds--bananaquits and killy hawks--and lizards.

As I walked toward the 1,780-foot peak of Sage Mountain, I could hear only the patter of rain on broad banana leaves and my own footsteps. It is a primeval place, where vines hang so low and tree roots arch so high that they mingle.

I passed trumpet trees with their foot-long hanging flowers, frangipani, mahogany groves, fern gullies and a huge fig tree. I rounded the bend just as the sun appeared, and as I looked down on the low clouds and the Caribbean, I was filled with awe at the beauty and wildness.

When I descended the mountain, I headed back to Bomba Shack to look for people who had become friends. Some are locals, and they are a wonderful bunch of warm, joyous and helpful people without a shred of the animosity toward tourists--Americans, especially--that is prevalent in some other tropical locales.

Others are semi-natives who return to Tortola again and again. My soul freshly vacuumed, I think I just might become one of them.

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GUIDEBOOK / Taking Time Out in Tortola

Getting there: From LAX, connecting service is available on American, TWA and Continental. Restricted round-trip fares for the high season, which begins Friday, start at $1,302.

Car rentals are at the airport and throughout the island.

Where to stay: Sebastian’s on the Beach, Little Apple Bay; telephone (284) 495-4212 or (800) 336-4870, fax (732) 462-4030, Internet https://www.sebastianbvi.com. Small hotel on the north shore with restaurant and bar. In high season, doubles begin at $135.

Prospect Reef Resort, Slaney Point, Road Town; tel. (800) 356-8937, https://www.prospectreef.com. Moderately priced village-style resort on 15 acres of exotic gardens. Doubles begin at $155.

The Sugar Mill, Road Town; tel. (800) 462-8834, fax (284) 495-4696, https://www.sugarmillhotel.com. A romantic, upscale small hotel. Doubles begin at $295.

Long Bay Beach Resort & Villas, Road Town; tel. (800) 729-9599, fax (914) 833-3318, https://www.longbay.com. Also upscale and situated along the longest stretch of beach on the island. Doubles begin at $275.

A&L; Inn, Fleming, Road Town; tel. (284) 494-6343, fax (284) 494-6656. Fourteen budget rooms in a nicely decorated hotel in the center of Road Town. Doubles begin at $84.

Where to eat: The Sugar Mill Restaurant, local tel. 495-4355, at the Sugar Mill hotel, among the best in the Caribbean. Appetizers run about $12, entrees $22 to $30. Lunch is also served at the hotel’s less expensive Islands restaurant. Mountain View Restaurant, tel. 495-9536, at the top of Sage Mountain, offers a breathtaking panoramic view. Most entrees are less than $22.

Skyworld, tel. 494-3567, offers a special soursop daiquiri and fine cuisine such as seafood chowder, conch fritters and steak Diane. Entrees $15 to $24.

Bomba’s Surfside Shack, tel. 495-4148, features huge plates of deliciously smoked and barbecued chicken and ribs with side dishes for $10 on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Pusser’s bar and restaurant in Road Town, tel. 494-3897, celebrates all things British. Entrees start at $10.

For more information: British Virgin Islands Tourist Board, 3450 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 1202, Los Angeles, CA 90010; tel. (800) 835-8530 or (213) 736-8931, fax (213) 736-8935, https://www.bviwelcome.com.

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Josh Meyer is a reporter on the Metro staff of The Times.