Wednesday, February 22, 2023

Desperately Seeking Sunshine # 6: Half Moon in Full Sunshine

Due to unexpected technical difficulties, I was unable to carry on blogging while I was on the ship. Now that I am back in Canada, I have been getting caught up -- and with this post the travel blog for this trip is now complete. In a few more months, I’ll be doing another cruise on Princess, and after that trip I will do a detailed comparison of the two companies: Princess Cruises and Holland America Line.
 
 
Half Moon Cay is Holland America Line’s name for its private island, Little San Salvador Island, between Eleuthera and Cat Island in the Bahamas.
 
Unlike the Princess private resort stop at Princess Cays on Eleuthera, this is not just an enclave on an otherwise inhabited island. Carnival Corp., the owners of Holland America, bought the island outright from Norwegian Cruise Line in 2006. Ongoing development of the island has been carefully restricted by the company to just one-fifth of the total land area at the western end of the island, leaving the other four-fifths as a wildlife and bird sanctuary (basically the entire area beyond the large, enclosed body of water).
 
 
The evocative name harks back to the VOC (Dutch East India Company) ship Halve Maen (“Half Moon”) in which Henry Hudson conducted early explorations of the New York and Hudson River area.
 
When we arrived off the shore on Friday morning, we got an early demonstration of the difficulties inherent in running an operation like this on an otherwise uninhabited island.
 
 
The captain announced that we were having a  tough time finding a position for the ship which would allow us to anchor safely and still provide a calmer lee in which the tenders could safely come and go, shuttling people from ship to shore and back throughout the day. In fact, in the end the ship was unable to anchor and had to use its engines all day to maintain a safe position.
 
The captain also announced that the daily supply vessel, the Half  Moon Clipper, had been unable to make the crossing from Eleuthera due to the weather, and so a number of the daily staff would be missing-in-action, and services ashore would be somewhat limited.
 
The big consequence of that was the cancellation of all escorted tours for the morning, including my planned glass-bottomed boat ride. Sigh. Of course, in those conditions, and with a 25-knot wind blowing straight into the bay, it’s questionable whether we would have seen much  of anything at all in a glass bottomed boat once the wind and waves stirred up the sand.
 
So once tender operations had finally begun, was I going ashore? The answer is “No.” Like the companion Princess facility on Eleuthera, this one is primarily a beach, with eating facilities, a bar, private chalets, a little shopping, and a few waterborne and landside recreation opportunities. It’s not a gigantic amusement park such as Carnival Line has built for its guests somewhere else around this region. And I am just not a beach person. This would give me a nice quiet day on board, with relatively little crowding at the pool, and a chance to just relax and “don’t worry, be happy.”
 
In the meantime, though, here are a couple of further photos from the stern of the ship to show you what I was missing.
 
 
This picture shows one of the tenders shuttling guests from ship to shore. Behind it you can see some of the two-storey chalets which can be rented for some monstrous number like US$600 per day. Smaller chalets at smaller prices appear to the left.

 
In this photo, I zoomed in to get a good view of the tender sailing through the narrow winding channel to the island’s protected artificial harbour.
 
 
And after we’d all had a nice sunny day, ashore or afloat, the ship powered up and sailed away just after 3:00 pm on the final leg of the voyage, to arrive in Fort Lauderdale at 7:00 am the following morning. It was a great cruise and a fascinating chance to see a list of Caribbean destinations I've never visited before. Of them all, I think the one I would most like to visit again for a bit longer would be Grand Turk, perhaps because the small-town vibe is familiar, and perhaps because it hasn't been completely spoiled by heavy-duty commercial development -- yet.


 

Desperately Seeking Sunshine # 5: When an Island Becomes a Village

Due to unexpected technical difficulties, I was unable to carry on blogging while I was on the ship. Now that I am back in Canada, the blogging has begun and will continue until I’m all caught up.
 
 
During the night, our ship sailed – idled, really – northwards from Amber Cove on the short leg of 97 nautical miles to the cruise ship pier at the southwest corner of Grand Turk Island. Here are a couple of pictures taken from the ship to show what Grand Turk looked like later in the day. In the morning, there were a lot of clouds about and the odd scattered shower.
 


Despite the short distance of the voyage, we had a time change. Amber Cove was our only port of call in a different time zone from Florida. We changed time on the night we left Nassau, giving us the sea day and our day ashore in Puerto Plata in that time zone. Now, even though we were sailing not far off due north, we had to change the time back.
 
 
The Turks and Caicos Islands were for many years left behind in the rush to establish tourism facilities all up and down the Caribbean. Geologically and geographically, these limestone islands mark the southeastern end of the Lucayan Archipelago, the rest of which is the home of the Bahamas. Historically, the Turks and Caicos were operated as a separate British overseas territory. Still a British overseas territory today, although now self-governing in most respects, the Turks and Caicos have more recently come to the attention of the tourist world.
 
To start with, much of the attention was lavished on the island of Providenciales (“Provo” for short). There, you can find all manner of elaborate resort hotels, especially the kind that I can only dream of affording to stay in, as well as the territory’s largest full-size airport capable of handling long-range and overseas airliners. A quick look revealed room rates in the fashionable Kingstown area on the north shore of Provo ranging from CA$474 to CA$2,037 per night.
 
To a large extent, the rampant development on the island of Provo has left the smaller islands behind. The cruise port in Grand Turk is another very recent development. The island, despite its big name, hosts a small community of just 5,000 people, basically a village which occupies an entire island. The local people are often outnumbered by the passenger crowds pouring ashore from the two ships a day which the terminal can accommodate.
 
To get to Grand Turk by air, you would most likely have to fly into Provo and then take one of the short daily island-hopper flights in small aircraft to J.A.G.S. McCartney International Airport on Grand Turk. This airport can handle single-aisle jet aircraft at medium range but there’s not a lot of demand on that scale because of the small population and the relatively intimate size of tourism facilities on the island.
 
J.A.G.S. McCartney was the first elected Chief Minister or premier when the Turks and Caicos became a partially self-governing entity with their own elected assembly, and yes, he really did have a clutch of given names to go with all those initials: James Alexander George Smith McCartney. However, the locals commonly and, I think, affectionately refer to him as “Jags.” He assumed office in 1976, at the age of 31, and died four years later in a private plane crash in New Jersey. Here's a monument to him in the “middle” of town.
 
 
I put the “middle” in quotation marks because the population is both small and well spread out, so that there is really no visible start or end to a town or neighbourhood – unless you see a clear sign like this one.
 

Holland America Line reassured us that we would dock “in the center of town” but there really isn’t one – just areas which are a little more populated than other areas.
 
Despite the visible economic imbalance in favour of Provo, it is Grand Turk which is the official capital of the territory, housing the Assembly, the Supreme Court the government ministries, and the official residence of the British-appointed Governor.
 
 
All of this and a good deal more we learned from the personable guide of our tour on the “Rainbow Tram.” This was an open-sided tourist vehicle with rows of seats stretching side-to side, reached via steps on the left or right. Actually, it was a pair of them linked together, with the driver and engine up front and the second vehicle a trailer.
 

One thing we did had to wait until we were a fair distance away from the cruise terminal, and past the airport. Then, we stopped on Front Street on the west shore, in Cockburn Town, to visit a cluster of shops and kiosks run by local residents, far from the influence of the inevitable Effy’s, Tanzanite International, Ron Jon Surf Shop, and Starbucks back at the terminal. The picture of the tram was taken at this stop, as was this one.


After the shopping stop, we continued north, passing from the west side to the east side to detour around the largest of the salt ponds. There are a number of these large ponds in Grand Turk, and in the 1800s when commercial fish catches were packed in salt for preservation, the drying and collecting of salt from these ponds was a major commercial enterprise. That all came to an end with the invention of refrigerators.
 
 
After leaving the more populated areas behind, we began climbing a long gradual slope towards the landmark lighthouse near the island’s northern tip. On the way up, we got a grandstand view of the ocean on the east side of the island, showing the brilliant colour changes from the turquoise of the shallow waters to the rich blue of the deep areas beyond the coral reefs.
 

In this area, there are still relatively few houses, but much of this land has been purchased by corporations for possible future development.
 

 
Finally we reached the literal end of the road at the lighthouse. This prefabricated steel structure was shipped out from England in pieces and assembled here on the highest point of the island, 165 feet above sea level (about 50 metres) to provide guidance to ships approaching the dangerous reefs. It’s no longer used, satellite navigation aids having taken its place, and in fact is not open to the public now as the steel staircase inside is dangerously corroded. Pity.
 

The former light-keeper’s house is now a gift shop and snack bar.
 

It was here on the parking lot at the lighthouse that we had our chance to get up close and personal with some of the island’s most famous inhabitants.
 
 
These donkeys’ ancestors were imported from Bermuda in the 1800s to assist in the hauling work of the salt industry. They were, of course, an “exotic” or imported animal, not a part of the natural ecosystem of Grand Turk – but the same was equally true of their presence in Bermuda!
 
Today, there are a hundred or so of them roaming freely around the island, and they are officially a protected species here. Our guide told us that it's mandatory to lock the gate in front of your home when you go out if you want to still have a garden when you get back. The government even provides veterinary care for them as needed! Look at this first picture and you’ll see a single donkey.
 

 
Within a few minutes, that single donkey had become three…
 
 
…and after another few minutes the three had become…
 
 
…oh, well, I’ll let you have the fun of seeing how many you can find in that picture! This miraculous multiplication of donkeys was all due to the owner of the silver car you see in the photos. This shrewd entrepreneur had bought a box of carrots and was selling them at $1.00 per carrot to visitors who wanted to feed a donkey. We all got a great laugh at the woman who walked across the parking lot, holding a carrot, and trying to catch her husband’s attention to take a picture, with the donkey nipping at the carrot right behind her all the way. Our guide had solemnly warned us not to stand behind a donkey. There was one fellow who skipped out of the danger zone just in time as one of the animals raised its tail.
 
With that visit to the lighthouse done, we turned back towards the pier. On the way back, we took a quick break to view this sign, with an artist’s impression in the middle of the so-called “Turk’s Head Cactus” which gave the island its odd name.
 
 
Back at the harbour, we got a good look from the pier at the one tourist attraction which was absolutely as far as many of the ship’s passengers (and likely some of the crew) ever got on their visit to Grand Turk.
 
 
Grand Turk, with its unique small-community vibe, was like no other island I’ve ever visited in the Caribbean. I don’t know if I could keep myself occupied while staying there for a solid week, but I’d love to visit again for a day or two.