The Visitors
On the squiggling road from Grand Etang, we take a hard right turn. It’s the kind of turn that folds back onto itself downhill, requiring stopping and reversing several times. We are in a rented Honda CRV, with our friends Amy, Dan, Killian, and Linda following in the rental car they’ve nicknamed The Shoebox. The driving is powered by steady encouragement (passengers) and intermittent profanity (driver).
We safely park beside a small building where they take an entrance fee and sell us a couple of souvenirs for friends. Beside the building are some macaws in a cage with a sign on it: Danger—Velociraptor Containment.
A paved path beyond the macaws leads past a small bar and restaurant to the falls. Annandale Falls is a 30-foot falls surrounded, as Lonely Planet says, “by a grotto of lush vegetation.” It’s true. There’s also a concrete platform for jumping.
Our first visit to Annandale Falls—just the four of us—was on a Saturday. Local teenagers lounged on the rocks and platform, joking and taking running jumps to leap into the pool below the falls. Some of them shampooed their hair, then jumped in again. They shouted and laughed. One kid offered to let me photograph him jumping from the top of the falls themselves, for a small donation.
Some days, the locals avoid Annandale Falls. When the enormous cruise ships dock in St. George’s, their human cargo disperses by bus taxi and water taxi. They fill the lovely and easily accessed places like Annandale Falls and Grand Etang and Grand Anse Beach. Places we love, too.
With our friends, though, we have the falls and jumping platform to ourselves. Sam jumps first. He pushes off to clear the rocks, then tucks his long legs to maximize splashing. Some of the rest of us follow.
The water is cold and fresh. I have become so accustomed to the sea water that I expect salt on my lips. Freshwater is sweet.
When we’ve had our fill of jumping, we towel off and return to the cars and the drive back to sea level. Our timing takes us through downtown St. George’s at the chaotic rush hour after school dismissal. School kids in uniform move along and across the streets in groups. The road past the bus terminal is clogged with people and buses and traffic. At last, we spool out of town onto the curve around the Carenage, heading home.
On another day, we go the other direction past Spiceland Mall and up a hill through a resort under construction. It will be sleek and grand, with a glass lobby overlooking the length of Gran Anse The sign identifies it as one of Grenada’s Citizenship By Investment Projects, where you buy a condo starting at $200,000 and get a Grenadian passport as part of the deal.
From the hilltop, we overlook Morne Rouge Beach (also called BBC Beach), a U-shaped cove filled with turquoise water edged with gleaming white sand. It seems unreal.
Our first time there, I had packed PBJ sandwiches and dragged a reluctant Stella to check out the beach. We took the bus to Spiceland Mall, then walked up over the hill in the hottest part of the day. Having spent our walking energy, we lay our blanket on the nearest patch of beach with patchy shade. It was extra windy, blowing fine sand at us, coating our sweaty sunscreen skin and filling every crevice. We left grumpy, proof that it is even possible to be grumpy in paradise.
During their stay here, my sister and her family visited the beach without us one morning. It was gorgeous, they said. The fish tacos were amazing. Try it again! They were right.
From the hilltop, we follow the road as it switches back down to the concrete steps. Beside the steps, La Plywood Bar looks just like it should, with wooden pallets and boards. Next to La Plywood is Sur la Mer Restaurant, which sounds really fancy but you can walk up to the window in your swimsuit and sandy feet to order delicious rotis and fish tacos and cold drinks. And we do.
Just over halfway down the beach is our favorite spot. Three sea almond trees form a triangle, perfect for hanging two hammocks and spreading a beach blanket in deep shade. Small pink blossoms blow onto us from a different nearby tree, as if sprinkled for our delight. Behind a fence, someone’s reggae is just the right volume.
Here, the waves barely form waves. We can bob around and swim, completely relaxed. We visit this beach again and again, craving the idyllic combination of shade trees and calm water.
There isn’t much to see with a snorkel mask, but one day our friend Dan fishes up a nice pair of sunglasses from the bottom with his toes. With our friends Bruce and Jake, I have the rare treat of a true hammock nap. With the Revell-Craft family, the kids excavated sand and built castles.
From beaches to mountain waterfalls, Grenada is a beauty. In September 2004, though, Hurricane Ivan raged across the island. It damaged or destroyed 90% of buildings, devastated nutmeg orchards, and ripped down swaths of rainforest. Prior to 2004, Grenada’s economy relied on agriculture, but thanks to the 2003 construction of a cruise ship pier, tourism was poised to rebound quickly. The first post-hurricane cruise ship docked in November 2004. Yachting and sailing gained popularity. Tourism grew to almost half of Grenada’s GDP, with around 500,000 tourists visiting annually (fewer at the height of the pandemic).
Despite these astonishing numbers, Grenada seems to retain much of its character. They have rebuilt and recovered since Ivan, but much of the island is hard to access, physically and culturally. Even as they share with us a taste of the island’s natural beauty, the nitty-gritty of life here still belongs to the Grenadian people.
