Stunning Saba
This tiny Caribbean island offers a big piece of paradise.
IT’S a hot and humid summer day in the Caribbean and the wind is up. Just moments after Winair’s de Havilland Twin- Otter bumpily takes off from St. Maarten, the tiny island of Saba, just a 10- minute flight away, rises like a sceptre from the floor of the crystal- blue Caribbean.
As the plane putters toward Saba’s 396m airstrip, the shortest commercial runway in the world, I see waves lashing against the island’s rocky, steep shores. Beneath the waterline, the volcanic island stretches to the sea bottom, its jagged ledges and coral reefs providing arguably the best diving spots in the Caribbean.
Before my journey to the tiny, practically unknown island, I had read that the producers of the original 1933 King Kong movie were enthralled with its craggy, volcanic silhouette and used its likeness as Skull Island. From the plane window, I think the 12.95 sq km island looks more like a massive emerald.
The plane glides in for a landing on the short runway wedged between cliff and super- clear water, and as I glance out of the window, I realize the precipitous mountainside is so close that the wing seems to almost brush it. Startled at its closeness, I draw in a deep breath but fully understand the pilots fly this route five times a day and know what they are doing.
When I read in an almost- century old National Geographic that described Saba ( pronounced SAY- ba) as a “quaint little island,” I was attracted to it immediately and made plans to visit. Along with neighbouring St Eustatius and Bonaire, in 2010 the island, formally a part of the Netherlands Antilles, became a Special Municipality of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.
From the airstrip I’m picked up by my guide, the affable Glenn Holm, a Saba native who’s agreed to show me around the island for a couple of days. Saba is pretty much a one- horse island, with one road, one car rental agency, and one gas station. On the road to Queens Garden Resort, where I’m staying, Glenn tells me that most visitors hire a taxi.
Here’s why. The winding, twisting, serpentine road – simply called the Road – is narrow and lined with flamboyant trees filled with orange and red blossoms, bright pink oleander, and wide- leafed sea grape. Connecting Saba’s four small villages of Zion’s Hill – also called Hell’s Gate – St John, Windwardside and the Bottom, the capital, it almost wasn’t built because of the rugged topography of the island.
“This is the road that was said couldn’t be built,” Glenn says as he expertly manoeuvres a sharp switchback. “Dutch engineers said it was impossible to build. A local man, Joseph Hassell, took a correspondence course and proved to Holland that it could and building began in 1938. Each stone of the road was made by hand, with picks and shovels, and finally finished in 1963.”
Before we make our way to Queen’s Garden, I find yet another reason that Saba stands alone among its Caribbean sisters. Glenn explains that since Saba is volcanic, it has no beach. You read that right. A Caribbean island that has no beach, but that isn’t a deterrent for visitors, who come here for myriad reasons.
By then we’re at Queens Garden, where I’m met by Hidde and Claire VerBeke. I’m no one special. It’s just tradition on Saba for owners to greet their guests.
“The only rule on Saba is that there are no rules,” Hidde says as he shows me around the lovely hillside resort. “Just be yourself. Everyone is friendly.” Then, he adds, “And there are no traffic lights, no crime.”
Even with no beaches, Saba was beginning to sound more and more like paradise.
Confession time. I love seafood, whether it’s fish, shrimp or lobster. Doesn’t matter to me as long as it comes from the water. That night at dinner on the open air patio at Queen’s Garden, Duco, my waiter, recommends a Caribbean spiny lobster. As he reaches into the tank, the lobster stabs him, gets him good. That lobster clearly doesn’t want to end up on a plate, and I decide at that moment to forego the crusty crustacean and order the wahoo instead, a tasty local fish.
The next morning after being serenaded awake by boisterous roosters and bleating goats that freely roam the island, Claire serves a delicious omelette made with gouda. The restaurant overlooks the pool, where I watch a young couple take a dive class.
“You can learn in the morning and then dive that afternoon,” says Claire. “You don’t have to be certified, as they will teach you and then take you on a shallow dive. When you come here, you don’t need to think about anything. We set up everything from dives to hiking to snorkelling.”
I wasn’t on Saba to dive, hike or snorkel, at least not this trip, just to explore the island known