Running, diving, driving, sailing, f loating (and playing with kittens)
The Cape Verde islands? They’re a bit dull apart from the...
SITTING on the edge of the veranda eating watermelon and papaya for breakfast, I felt utterly content. I stroked the two kittens keeping me company and gazed out at the sand dunes at Ponta Sino Kite Beach. I’d arrived in paradise to celebrate my 19th birthday.
I could have been in the packed canteen with most of the other holidaymakers at this all-inclusive resort, but by venturing outside to the table furthest away, I felt as if I was in a private villa.
I was on the first day of my holiday in Sal, one of ten small volcanic, arid islands in the former Portuguese colony of the Cape Verde archipelago scattered over 1,500 square miles of the Atlantic Ocean, and 350 miles from the coast of West Africa.
The islands boast all-year sunshine with the bonus of a constant sea breeze, so the temperature is never stifling.
My holiday requirement list had included bikini weather, deserted sandy beaches, a small island, an authentic feel, veganfriendly, a short flight, similar time zone and affordability. My budget was about £400 for food, flights and accommodation.
I’d been plotting my escape since halfway through Michaelmas term when I changed my screensaver to a beach shot.
Life as a fresher at Oxford University’s Christ Church is amazing but also mentally shattering. I wanted to escape my music studies and have a holiday that didn’t break my student bank balance.
I also wanted a companion. My boyfriend Jacob was being noncommittal and Mum was impossible to pin down, but I kept on researching online deals and warm locations. I had set my heart on Jordan – I had visions of sleeping in a cave, riding to Petra on horseback and swimming with a million Nemos in the Red Sea – but my budget was inadequate, especially as I’d offered to pay for anyone who would come with me.
Mum then said yes and so, too, did the boyfriend!
Bargains evaporated once hunting as a threesome, but one affordable destination was Cape Verde – amazingly, I found a deal for £187 each on latebookings.com. However, when trying to book the offer it vanished, which became a common occurrence. Travel companies seem to dangle bargains in front of you but when you try to book, the price trebles. I finally got a good deal with the aptly named On The Beach site three days before departure.
I had hit the jackpot, a budget version of the Bahamas. I couldn’t wait to fly to Sal. We were booked into the curiously named Smartline Crioula, a jaded-looking hotel on the beach about a mile from the main town of Santa Maria. However, this worked in our favour as guest numbers were low, so it never felt as though we were in a resort. The three-star rating really seemed to keep the crowds away.
I was ridiculously excited to be leaving my home in the rainiest part of the UK to head to Sal, one of the least rainy places in the world. Then my stepfather showed me Government advice classifying Cape Verde as a country at risk of the Zika virus – not great news since I’m a mosquito magnet. I decided not to tell the boyfriend, as he has hypochondriac tendencies.
We set off from Wales in a blizzard. A six-hour flight is bearable time-wise, and as a nervous flyer I’m always euphoric when I land.
I love stepping on to a runway somewhere warm and feeling that furnace of hot air engulf me. I tried to gaze around at the sandy coloured landscape but the brightness was dazzling.
Sal is named after the oncebooming salt trade and it is a volcanic tropical island surrounded by golden sandy beaches and turquoise ocean.
I was amazed at the extraordinary resourcefulness of people who not only managed to survive but also thrive on this rocky speck hundreds of miles from Senegal.
I barely dropped my luggage before heading to the nearby Eco Dive School as Jacob and I were booked on a five-day Padi Open Water Dive Course. I love swimming and always plan an openwater adventure when I’m on holiday. I once swam across the Hellespont from Europe to Asia.
We needed to pop in to do a quick test to prove we’d completed our e-learning, which we’d done online so as not to waste valuable holiday time in a classroom. The downside is you study all the scary stuff before dipping a toe in the sea.
My head was reeling with thoughts of burst lungs, sharks, stingrays, pulmonary embolism or, worst of all for a musician, barotrauma (ear damage).
Jacob is a maths geek who maps Mars for a living, and he kept trying to help me out with decompression theory, making it ever more complicated. Luckily Sandra, the dive instructor who runs the school, had simplified explanations and once we were putting it into practice, I began to comprehend what I’d learnt.
Breathing underwater is magical, the equivalent of learning to fly.
I’D HIT THE JACKPOT, A BUDGET VERSION OF THE BAHAMAS
A whole new universe opens up and I felt as if I had been given a fabulous gift – swimming as one with shoals of damsel, parrot and soldier fish while exploring beautiful shallow reefs.
It’s a fantastic way to escape the tourists sunbathing on beaches because here, of course, the crowds cease to exist – it’s just you and your dive buddies living in an underwater world.
THE only blip happened when I managed to almost drown in knee-high water. Disorientated after an hour in strong currents, I emerged on to the beach with my scuba kit. A big wave caught me unawares and I ended up rolling around tangled in my regulator, snorkel and fins.
Having swallowed water, I was unable to get up with a 77lb tank attached to me. It was about 30 seconds before Sandra yanked me back on to my feet and I was pretty shaken.
The course took five half-days and I’m now qualified to dive any- where in the world. It was also a great way to escape the resort as we were picked up by our instructor every day. The hotel was used solely for sleeping and eating. The rest of the time we were out having wonderful adventures.
Sandra’s local knowledge was very helpful, as she knew the fun attractions from the dud ones. She also regaled us with tales of the transformation she has witnessed during her seven years on Sal.
I was astounded to learn she was the first person on the island to have a pushchair and a bike. This made me realise the huge growth in tourism that has taken place in such a short time. The downside to this is that the island doesn’t have the infrastructure to deal with all the waste that is generated and some areas are littered with rubbish.
I love going for long runs, and a ten-miler on Sal gave me a chance to explore. After leaving Santa Maria, there was about a mile of countryside covered in plastic. I cannot believe the tour companies aren’t managing this problem but hopefully they will soon.
Running took me to the most spectacular beaches and let me observe the simple life of locals in ramshackle houses miles from our resort. Sal is 25 miles long, so a bit too far for me to run around in one go, but I got to see most of it over the course of a week.
I also hired a quad bike to explore the northern side. There is hardly any traffic and mostly I travelled off-road. It was a good way to visit some local attractions without being in an organised group.
I loved the Pedra Lume salt mine, an eerie volcanic crater that’s like a mini version of the Dead Sea. It was an amazing experience to float in the super salty waters.
I also went on sailing adventures, learned a bit about kite-boarding and went horseriding on the beach. However, Sal wasn’t about the attractions for me. It was about walking away from the tourist bubble and getting lost in the Mars-like landscape.