Drinking in underwater beauty of Barbados
Alison Jones goes to Barbados to experience the life aquatic from above and below the waves...
The fish gazed beadily at me. Silvery scales gleaming in the reflected light from the rounded glass.
Ruling me out as a source of food, it joined the rest of its school mates and swam away into the murky depths, the strange human creatures trapped in the glass-sided tank quickly forgotten.
The sub-aquatic experience came courtesy of the Atlantis Submarine in Barbados, a 65 feet long, 80 ton passenger sub with portholes all along the side, which can take tourists down to a depth of 150 feet.
While not an experience for the claustrophobic - although the sub is cosy rather than cramped - it can take even non-swimmers on an unforgettable journey across coral reefs, encrusted wrecks, vibrantly coloured fish and if you are lucky, a turtle or two.
There was also a brief flashback to every underwater war movie I've ever seen, as the sub's captain - the man from Atlantis - yelled "dive, dive, dive" as we sank swiftly beneath the waves.
Barbados has a lot to offer in terms of watery pleasures and you don't have to be a qualified diver to enjoy them. The day after our submarine trip we were back at the harbour to take a catamaran trip.
After a Champagne welcome, rather than the ubiquitous rum punch, the catamaran took its passengers, who were mostly to be found sprawled on deck lashing on the high factor sun cream, on a trip around the Bajan coast.
There were three stops en route. The first was by a private beach where frustrated poolside "bombers" could hurl themselves off the vessel and into the warm, salty depths of the Caribbean.
Appetites worked up, it was time for a buffet lunch laid on by the captain and his crew and included a local favourite, fried flying fish, as we sailed to the next destination.
This time it was for a spot of snorkelling above the reefs and the wrecks. Even novice snorkellers were able to enjoy it as members of the crew guided them gently along by the hand.
I had tried snorkelling a couple of times before. Once in Malaysia when I stuck my head under the water and saw a flotilla of of jellyfish headed my way and decided that it wasn't for me.
Then again in Mauritius when my brain got confused by the fact my eyes were telling me I was underwater while my lungs were saying I was still breathing air. The end result was the inhalation of a lot of sea water.
This time, by George I think I got it! A few slow deep breaths eased my panic and before long I was bobbing along gently on the surface, admiring the rainbow-patterned fish swimming about beneath me and the sunken ships emerging from the gloom.
Our final stop was a popular destination as there were several glass-bottomed boats and catamarans clustered round a spot in the water.
The crew had little bags of silvery fish they were throwing into the water to attract. . . something. Submerging my face I discovered what as a giant turtle swam lazily beneath me. Startled I yelled, but in the sea no one can hear you scream, especially when you have a mouth full of curved rubber.
Recovering my composure, if not my dignity, I joined the crowds treading water. The turtles were close enough to touch as they swam past, eagerly targeting the swimmers holding the little bags of food.
Back on the catamaran we sailed back to the harbour - some of us nursing sore backs from snorkelling without a T-shirt, others with sore heads from choosing to stay on board and availing themselves of the free bar.
For tourists who prefer to stay on land - or even under it - another big attraction is Harrison's Cave, first mentioned in 1795, forgotten about and then rediscovered two centuries later. We were driven through the cave by electric tram (a bit like the ghost train at the fair), entering a geological fairyland of stalactites and stalagmites.
There were strange people-like clusters along the edges of the man-made tramway, great cathedral-like spaces of waxen-looking rock hanging from the "ceiling" and underground lakes with waterfalls pounding into them.
At one point the guide decided to show us what conditions were like when explorers first came across the cave. We were suddenly plunged into inky blackness as all the lights went out. Water dripped onto our heads and a few wails went up - not all of them from the children on the tour.
It was over in seconds and back up to the surface - quite the most comfortable cave descent I have ever been on.
More than 100 years before the caves were discovered, Sunbury sugar plantation was being established by Irishman Matthew Chap-man, one of the first settlers on the island. Then called Chapman Plantation it changed hands and names several times before being bought by the brothers Barrow who named it after their home in England.
In spite of suffering the effects of hurricane and fire, the plantation is now a living museum, crammed with curiosities from a bygone age, from antique carriages to a collection of optical machinery, some of the first to come to the West Indies.
Our homes for the duration of our five day stay were the Tamarind Cove and Colony Club - belonging to the Elegant Hotels group. They certainly live up to that description, with smart yet relaxing decor. In the case of the Colony Club they even have a bar you can swim up to and beachside villas with separate television rooms, dressing rooms and bathrooms with en-suite showers.
They are situated on the south coast, generally considered to be the more upscale side of the island. Just up the road, for instance, is Sandy Lane, the holiday playground of the rich, made famous by frequent visitor Michael Winner.
A little bit of the London social scene has been transplanted to the beach in the form of Daphne's, a restaurant just a stroll along the sand from Tamarind Cove. It is part of the group that includes The Ivy and Le Caprice in London.
Diners can enjoy watching (or at night, hearing) the waves washing up to the shore while eating exquisitely prepared food.
It was rather a bump back down to earth then when, on our final day, we were taken for lunch at another hotel. On the way to the airport.
Though the rooms were well appointed it was clearly aimed at the British family market, and so we found ourselves queuing up at an outdoor canteen for a Bajan buffet that included chicken nuggets, mini pizzas and hot dogs, some deep fried flying fish the only nod towards native cuisine.
As one of our party observed, casting a disdainful eye over the sun worshippers reading beside the inflatable animal-filled pool "It's all tattoos and Bravo Two Zero."
It is a shame that the most disappointing spectacle we would take away from this otherwise beautiful island, was that of our fellow countrymen. ..SUPL:
