In oddly green (shallow) waters we motored 40 miles along Trinidad’s steep and jungle-clad northern shore. Heady floral smells and occasional showers drift down from the mountains.
Magnificent frigate birds, pelicans, boobies and lazy dolphins hover around tiny fishing boats. So much to look at. At 3 pm we round the corner, into flat water down the passage to Chagauramas. A very fine feeling.
An amount of vodka may have been ingested at this stage of our little journey. We make no apology for that.
We picked up a mooring in the harbour, which was as I remembered it – noisy and colourful (the harbour, not the mooring).
Sleek, high-bowed and impossibly overpowered pirogues crisscross the bay at ridiculous speed, their drivers statuesque Rastafarians. Oil rig supply vessels, tugs, pilot boats, huge seismic survey vessels and small ferries dodge between a motley collection of anchored yachts. Bold splashes of Bougainvillea punctuate the jungle shoreline.