Saint Lucia is 27 miles long and 14 miles wide.
Petite, if you will.
Now this will probably lead you to believe that you can pop from top to bottom in no time! We certainly thought we could travel a little sliver of coastline in no time, but we were mistaken.
It takes quite literally hours to get anywhere.
Winding roads creep between mountains, into jungles, along valleys and across sheer cliff edges. Our decision to “pop up to a nice beach, a little further north” was a silly one.
After 2 hours in a car with no air conditioning, leather seats, and local rap music belting from the stereo, we finally arrived at The Naked Fisherman.
And with the first glimpse of the turquoise sea, we plum forgot the journey all together.
The bay slowly reveals itself as you descend down the spiral, cliff edge staircase.
We ditched our bags under a thatched umbrella, and raced out to the water’s edge to breathe in the breeze.
And dip our toes into the waves.
Burning the soles of our feet as we ran from the sea to our beds, we spent the morning slurping on daiquiris and cooling off in the surf.
(a holiday favourite; feather light, softer than silk and shimmers slightly in the sun)
The best thing about Naked Fisherman sunbeds?
This fact pretty much cemented our plans for the rest of the day.
The second best thing about Naked Fisherman?
We pulled up a couple of trunks and settled in under the canopy of rustling trees.
Now, they may not have them on the menu, but trust me when I say; ask for the saltfish fritters.
They were the best ones we had on the island, and not a treat to be missed.
But whatever you choose, the view is the best sauce you could ask for.
Lunch was snoozed off in the shade.
Rocking in the breeze and listening to the sea lap against the rocks.
Total bliss, and the best possible way to spend an afternoon.
Significantly more relaxed, on the way home we rolled the windows down and sang along to every local rap song that came on! (There are only about 6 in the rotation, incase you got a little too impressed.)
Falling out back at Marigot Bay after dark, with two foot-wide grins that wouldn’t budge.
After lazy showers, and listening to the crickets come out from our balcony, we made our way down to supper.
Bread, warm from the oven, with homemade butter and sea salt.
The plumpest of seared scallops!
Followed by a couple of steaks, and topped up with a lesson in rum tasting.
We learned how to spice our own rum, and made a bottle to take home.
… though it only made it as far as our balcony, where we sipped it with our feet on the railings and the smell of the sea swimming around us.
Well past the witching hour, we retired to our beds.
Slipped under the netting and into cool, crisp sheets.
Saint Lucia, may be petite, but it certainly packs a punch!