Trip Report - Destin, Florida

 

When Brits think of Florida they think of Mickey Mouse, babes in bikinis and detectives in pastel suits with their sleeves rolled up.  However there is more to Florida than, Disneyworld, Miami Beach and the war on drugs.

 Destin may be virtually unknown on this side of the pond but it’s a popular resort for Americans from as far as the mid west keen to get some beach action.  Nestled on the north western corner of the Floridian panhandle and perched on the Gulf of Mexico its incredible beaches and emerald green water offer plenty of opportunities for water based fun. I was sceptical about the claims but in the flesh the beaches are pristine enough to rival those in the Caribbean. 

 
Its not quite Robert Duvall urging on the troops in Apocalypse Now but there is a surprising amount of aerial traffic above you as you sit on the beach draining your margarita. That is because there is a large military presence in the area as the Fort Elgin/Valparaiso airport doubles up as a military base with jets and choppers a continuous rumble in the skies.
 

 

I stayed in Sandpiper  Cove http://sandpipercove.com/  a well appointed  43 acre resort situated between Henderson State Park and the bars and restaurants of Harbour Walk. I booked with VRBO and was able to snag a studio condo for under  $100 a night inc taxes. The place is well maintained with private beach access, hot tubs, heated swimming pool, boat access, marina and a par 9 golf course.  It’s fabulous value.

 A word of warning though. In the country where car is king you will struggle if you don’t have your own transport as buses and taxis are virtually non existent.  Although comparatively near the action it was a good 40 minutes traipse to the Harbour Walk action along a pretty ugly stretch of the I98 every time we fancied a beer. Destin itself is not at all bike friendly and we had numerous reports of out-of-towners coming off worse for wear when they braved the traffic.

The HarborWalk itself is a fun experience. The boardwalk is lined with restaurants and bars like a Margaritaville http://www.margaritavilledestin.com and the huge  AJ’s http://www.ajs-destin.com/ where you can sit on the open air deck and watch the great sunsets.  On the other side are the fishing boats, charters and even a mock pirate galleon that can take you on dolphin cruises round the bay.  It gets pretty crowded in the summer but as we were they off peak there was just a steady trickle of people enjoying the atmosphere although a fair few places were closed up for the winter.

 

Another lively place is McGuire’s Irish pub http://www.mcguiresirishpub.com/ right at the harbour with its own brewery, signature cocktails (the Irish Wake does damage) and huge portions.  With over a million signed dollar bills adorning the walls if I were the owner I’d just sell up and close now. It’s a unique venue with plenty of character (albeit the bastardized American take on Irish pubs) and a jovial atmosphere.

 First  prize in the food stakes must go to Buck’s Smokehouse http://bucksbarbq.com/ bbq a blink and you miss it shack off the i98. The place serves proper southern BBQ with platters for as little as 12€. Its comparatively good value (Destin is an expensive place to eat out) and the meat literally falls off the bone.  Do not accept imitations, this has some of the best ribs and turkey I have ever tasted.
 

 For daytime fun we rented a two man kayak from Sailing South Watersports ://www.pontoonboatrental.com  for $35 and went out into the bay to see Destin from the water.  Its great exercise and good fun as you cruise past the expensive boats and there are opportunities to get out and enjoy some of the harder to reach beaches across the bay.  We paddled under the Marler Bridge to Crab Island, a spit of sand normally heaving with pontoons and revellers who have weighed anchor in he shallow waters and break out the Bud. We were the only people there but it was nice to chill out on Captain Nemo’s jetty and eat our packed lunch. 

 

Destin is a mecca for fisherman and this is evidenced but the large fish we saw hovering around the floating dock,  Their was also huge groups of harmless Moon jellyfish in the bay along with a few schools of dolphins around mid afternoon.

If you get bored of Destin there are some natural attractions within an hour's drive away (more of which in my next posts) We hired a car with Enterprise who offer a great service as they pick you up and drop you off anywhere in a 20 mile radius, and travelled an hour up to Blackwater River State Park and rented a canoe for $50 with http://www.blackwatercanoe.com/ . They dropped us off at the launch and we spent the next 4/5 hours cruising back to our car through the pristine wilderness without seeing another soul on the river. Its a pretty easy paddle through the crystal clear, ice cold Blackwater River with some lovely sand banks to stop and refuel.  Maybe we were too noisy but I expected to see a few bit more fauna seeing as we were literally in the middle of nowhere. In any event it was very calming and great for the soul.

So Destin has got great bars, great beaches, great food, natural delights and some of the friendlies people I have met.  It makes me wonder why not more people have heard of it. Disney conspiracy perhaps!

Next post: Santa Rosa and the Beaches of South Walton – Home of the Truman Show

TV Review - Secrets of South America - Extreme Beauty Queens BBC3

Whilst the UK is a country obsessed with the weather, celebrity sex-lives and mediocre karaoke competitions Venezuela is a country obsessed with beauty. Girls of 4 don't play in the park but go to "beauty school" and practice putting on make-up and learn how to sashay down a catwalk. Having produced more Miss Worlds than any other country the obviously are doing something right but this pursuit of perfection comes at a cost.

Reporter Billie JD Porter spent 6 months in this peculiar part of Latin America following some of the aspiring beauty queens and the circus that surrounds them. Lets put it this way; if you are slightest bit ugly or overweight Venezuela is not the place for you.

Venezuela's equivalent to the X Factor is Our Latin Beauty (Nuestra Belleza Latina) and their Simon Cowell is Osmel Sousa, a camp beauty impresario with over 40 years in the business. Sousa knows about queens because he is one. He has the power to make or break careers and during his reality TV show contestants go through the mill until they are broken, emotionally and physically, until they fit Sousa's ideal of airbrushed "perfection".

With borderline OCD the smallest of details are seized upon and criticised. Ass not perfect? Get liposuction. Teeth too big? File them down. One contestant talks about him sotto voce.

"If you need a nose, face or voice changing he will tell you"

His show culminates in a grand final held in a huge sports stadium watched by TV audience of 50 million people. Despite Sousa being the paternal figure in Venezuelan pageantry his waspish comments do not show much compassion for the contestants. When one of them passes out due to lack of food his response is

"If you feint like a beauty queen, get up like one"

He is interviewed by Porter for his response to the feminists who protested against Miss World when it was held in London in 2011.

"Those protests were staged by Ugly Bettys who have no chance to be beautiful. All were horrendous"

His solution to virtually all flaws is to recommend plastic surgery.

"Nature has not been kind to some women"

To be fair to him he does practice what he preaches and has had so much work done he looks like Elton John and Barry Manilow's lovechild. You get the feeling he thought Zoolander was a documentary.

 In the UK beauty pageants died out with in 70's along with Tiswas and the "friendly" pat on the bottom so its curious to see why Venezuelan women still aspire to this Charlie's Angels image of plastic-breasted beauty. The answer may be that this beauty ideal is the one that wins competitions and doing well in Miss Venezuela opens doors in a country with very few opportunities.

Despite the poverty that affects large parts of the country families see expensive plastic surgery as an investment in the future the same way a public school education may be a short cut to a well paid job in the UK.
 

Porter interviews Maya an 18 year old aspiring beauty queen living in the run down Caracas slum of Santa Cruz. Her family saved up and forked out £7000 on new boobs, nose and dental work despite her looking stunning to begin with. The family make sacrifices not just because she is their daughter but because she is their meal ticket out of the barrio. Caracas is one of the most dangerous cities in the world with on average of a murder every 40 minutes and you can understand its citizens desire to move up the property ladder.

Hugo Chavez may have died but his legacy of his radical Bolivarianism lives on. Food shortages are commonplace since the state nationalised all the farms and Porter films an angry queue of women hanging about on street corners for basics like eggs, milk and toilet roll. Its no wonder aspiring beauty queens will literally do anything to win competitions. Careers, boyfriends and health are all sacrificed.

Perhaps the most shocking evidence of their desperation is that in an effort to loose weight Maya had a plastic patch sewn onto her tongue that makes solid food too painful to eat. All her meals are taken liquefied. You thought the Atkins diet was bad?

Its is a relief to hear the mother of another contestant reject this surgical madness 

"She doesn't need surgery. Who is competing? Is it the most beautiful girl or the best surgeon?"

With the BBC3 docu-bar being kept artificially low by the lightweight Stacey Dooley, Extreme Beauty Queens was a fascinating glimpse into this anachronistic way of life. Despite being a self-confessed newby to Latin America, Porter comes across as Alan Whicker in comparison to Dooley.

Of course it helps having someone as unhinged as Osmel Sousa as the centrepiece for a documentary but the whole hour had the air of an episode of Louis Theroux Weird Weekends about it. I can pay it no higher compliment.

Whilst a little green around the edges Porter did not shy way from asking probing questions but did so with an easy charm that got her subjects to open up to her. Let’s hope the remaining couple of episodes on South America are equally as entertaining.

Catch it on iPlayer for the foreesable future.

Cycling In Granada - Nicaragua Part 2 - Bells, Butterflies & Burials

With my trip to Puerto Asese under my belt I felt confident about tackling some more of Granada's sights by bike. I got hold of a flyer from Bicimaximo about a little known Butterfly Reserve that they said would make a good little day trip.

Before heading west out of town in the direction of the cemetery I made a quick pit-stop at the crumbling Iglesia De La Merced. I asked the caretaker at reception how old the church was but he looked a little flustered as he wracked his brain for an answer.

"Don't worry amigo, this is not a test"

Turns out it was built in 1534 and has been ransacked by pirates, bombarded by armies and shaken by earthquakes. Yet here it still stands in all its faded glory. Think of La Merced as the charming old sister, wrinkled and wise, to the flirtatious Catedral showing her knickers just down the road. The interior of the church itself is fairly plain by Latin standards (although I did notice this rather unfortunate tile work on the floor)

For a measly dollar you climb up the bell tower where you can enjoy panoramic views of the city and the magnificence of Mombacho. Early morning or sunset is best time for photographers but you will be fighting for space with the tourists or in my case the bell ringer who must surely be deaf by now.

After the quick pit stop I headed west, out of town, to where the old cemetery is located. Latin cemeteries have a certain faded charm and Granada's is reportedly the oldest in Central America with a wide variety of tombs, mausoleums and large monuments. It’s well maintained with many of the tombs made from expensive marble and embellished with photos of the deceased. I thought it was rather a nice idea to have photos adorning the tombs, a visual reminder of their occupants in better times.

I did notice a few sketchy people just hanging about in some of the alcoves so I didn't linger for too long. It’s a pretty big place and you can easily become cornered in the less visited outskirts so best to keep your wits about you.

Stepping out of the cemetery entrance I took a right down Calle de las Comedias where the houses start a take a turn for the shanty. I was beginning to think this ride might not be the best idea when I stopped to ask directions for "el mariposario" from a local lady who looked at me stony-faced like I'd asked to have sex with her daughter.

With only my rudimentary map to guide me it was a case of continuing along the paved road further into the suburbs or taking a dirt road into the wilderness. I took the latter. It turns out this dirt road is the same one that goes all the way to Laguna de Apoyo and you will see real poverty on its margins, a world away from the posh restaurants in the tourist quarter.

Tin roof shacks with mud floors, no electricity and a coterie of raggedly dressed children are commonplace. A man in the street is aggressively slashing at some wood with a machete as chickens run about his feet. I give him my biggest, warmest and most respectful smile.

Despite the grinding poverty many of the kids are lovely and wave at the weird gringo passing by on his bike. A trio of little footballers decked out in fluorescent green Barcelona tops show me their skills as they practice their shooting between two decapitated tree trunks.

After about 45 minutes and a few wrong turns I finally make it to the butterfly sanctuary. It is currently run by a couple of cheery volunteers from the Midwest who are keen to know how I made it all the way out here. Their passion for nature is instantly apparent and they tell me how they quit their jobs and are trying to spread the word about this corner of the world.

They are in the process of improving the sanctuary's online presence whilst erecting a few more signs on the road to make the place easier to find offline. It might look like paradise but the couple tell me there are challenges to living in a log cabin in the middle of a Nicaraguan forest

"Every time I think I miss a home comfort I think about how cold it gets in Michigan in the winter"

The grounds are privately owned and rely on admission fees to survive. A bargain $5 gets you a personalised tour of a large netted area in front of their cabin where all the butterflies are fed, protected and encouraged to breed. The air is alive with a multitude of different species. Huge blue Morphos lazily fly about the enclosure and drunkenly sip on fermenting banana as they becoming steadily drowsier as the day progresses. There is also a 1km interpretive trail that you can wander which is pretty relaxing (you are literally in the middle of no-where). What it lacks in nature it makes up for with its tranquillity.

One my way back to Granada I am crawling along in some terrible traffic.

I really shouldn't have made my return journey during rush-hour.

(Re)Cycling in Granada, Nicaragua Part 1:Machetes, Marinas & Mountain Bikes

Nicaragua may rank as the 2nd poorest country in the Americas behind Haiti but one of the side effects of having no cash is that Nicas certainly do make best use of their resources.

This frugality permeates all aspects of life. Be that sustainable eating (outside urban centres Nicas tend to grow their own veggies/keep chickens & pigs and supermarkets stock far less imports than the UK), recycling (certain plastic and cans are worth money so they are not left lying around)or transport(ubiquitous ramshackle US school buses are imported, pimped-out and always full to the brim).

In the UK you can hardly see the stars for light population but when you fly over Nicaragua at night it looks like the place has shut for the day. Nicaragua may well take the prize for the most eco-friendly country I've ever been to.

So, with resources at a premium and cars being an expensive luxury for a lot of the locals it makes perfect sense that Nicas are bike crazy. After all cycling is cheap, quick and efficient means of getting around. The Granada streets are teeming with bikes of all shapes and sizes.

Five gear mountain bikes of indeterminate make seem to be the most popular. On my way back from the baseball I saw a man riding an a bike on a busy road in near darkness with his other half riding side saddle on the crossbar whilst holding a two year old. I wonder what Boris Johnson would make of that? Despite the apparent lack of traffic lights & road rules (no one indicates so you have to slow at junctions and watch what other people are doing) cycling in Granada is excellent way of assimilating with the locals and getting a feel of this lovely town.

In Granada there a few place on La Calzada (the main tourist drag) to hire bikes. They aren't all in great nick so it's definitely worth testing them out first before setting off. I got mine from Bicimaximo which is based in the Parque Central just to the right of the custard coloured picture book Cathedral. You can hire a decent if unspectacular 5 speed for $5 (about 5 hours), $7 the full day or $22 a week. You can hire bikes with better spec but no one rides around on these so forget it unless you plan on doing some serious offroad.

They also do guided tours of the area if you feel the need for back up as there are certain areas where it may be sensible to exercise caution. The area between the lakeside and the start of La Calzada is fine during the day but a bit sketchy at night with reports of muggings and I have read anecdotal evidence that the 2hr ride up to Laguna de Apoyo has its share of problems.

Irrespective of the potential risks I love cycling and always hire a bike on my travels so I ventured along the coast past the unspectacular "tourist area", through fields and jungle and onto the Marina Cocibloca. Its an easy 4km ride on tarmac that can be easily in an hour or so. I like to do things at my own pace so I skipped the tour. In the end it all worked out OK but not before I got a lucky break.

Cycling on my own and into an area known for robberies might not win me the Einstein Award but there can be much to be said for just travelling minimally and trying to blend in. One way to do that is not to carry a gaudy back pack around like some travelling North Face turtle. This will mark you out as a gringo with something worth stealing. Keep it light, take a few cordobas and there will always a corner store selling something to eat and drink.

 

Although there have been reports of muggings in this area the journey on the main road to the marina seems to be OK in daylight as there are now tourist police stationed at the half way point to dissuade any would be assailants (although I'm told they are less than useless if you do get into trouble). I passed locals on horse and cart transporting their wares from the fields, cattle grazing on the shoreline and farmers chopping grass with machetes. It looks pretty idyllic and a world away form the hustle and bustle of Granada.

WARNING:DO NOT take the dirt road down to Astillero Diamante (at a junction you'll see a big sign with a diamond) as I now know many people have been mugged and even had their bikes stolen on this trail. I only learned about this particular pitfall from the caretaker at Marina Cocibloca AFTER bumbling down this pretty path bordered by fields, farms and the odd shack for about 30 mins. I was on my guard but only doubled back to the main road when I saw some dubious types up ahead. That was a wise move.

"You were lucky my friend. That area is notorious"

The caretaker started to tell me a story about how growing up in "el campo" was paradise. He and his friends used to climb trees and sleep out in the countryside at night and walk wherever he wanted without any fuss. Now even the locals have to choose their routes with caution especially at night or risk bumping into an opportunistic "pandilla".

"Kids don't want to work these days. They want the easy life so they just take nice things from other people"

It was interesting to chat to the old chap as he lamented about the ills of modern day Nicaragua and the changes it was going through. In that respect Nicaragua is no different from the rest of the western world with old school values replaced by a preoccupation towards get-rich-quick materialism. I blame 50 Cent.

Part 2 - Bells, Butterflies and Burials

Baseball in Granada, Nicargaua - It's A Whole Different Ball Game

When you think sports in Latin America you think football, right? From Mexico to Argentina the average Brit has romantic images of kids playing keepy-uppy with oranges on street corners and crumbling stadia flooded with rabid fans in a riot of colour all garnished with flares and streamers.

Having travelled to a few of these countries I've seen that many of the stereotypes ring true. However, in Nicaragua football is not el deporte numero uno, it's baseball. Only a 2½hr flight from Miami it's no great surprise that this quintessentially American sport has taken root in Nicargaua.

It was first introduced in the 19th Century by American importer Albert Addlesberg and popularised by US Marines stationed in the country. Despite Nicaragua's turbulent past and impoverished present the country has a 4 team professional baseball league (La Liga Nicaragüense de Beisbol Profesional)that runs from October through February. 


It comprises of the Indios del Bóer, the Tigres del Chinandega, the Leones de León, and the Orientales/Tiburones de Granada. Most of the Nicas I spoke weren't really that interested in the national league but were pasionate about "las grandes ligas" i.e. Major League Baseball.

Nicaragua may not have exported the volume of top players to the US as Cuba or the Dominican Republic but they can be proud of the likes of Dennis Martinez who broke numerous pitching records during his 23 year playing career. Currently only Everth Cabrera (San Diego Padres), Wilton López (Colorado Rockies)and Erasmo Martinez (Seattle Mariners) currently play in the MLB.

So, when in Rome or in this case Granada I thought it only right to check out one of the games from myself. After getting confirmation of a 6pm game via their Facebook account (they don't have a website) I jumped in a shared cab (you could walk it but its wise to spend the 15 cordobas) and headed to the

Roque T. Zayala stadium or "el estadio" on the outskirts of town on the main Managua road.

The stadium is Nicaragua in microcosm: rough and ready but with tons of character. Pitching up in the dark and stumbling through the dusty car park I was a little wary of what to expect. How rowdy do baseball fans get after a few beers? A long line of people were queuing at a ticket booth for the main standing area which you could enter for about 30C$ (just over a $1). I thought I'd go for the comfort of a plastic chair and splurged 70C$ for "el palco" or the posh seats behind the batting area. There was no queue for this line. With this you get a program so I caught up on what Los Tiburones had got up to.

Walking up the gangway into the main arena it was obvious that this wasn't a must win game as the stadium was half empty and no touts had come to try and flog me tickets in the car park (I was warned this might happen) so I could sit wherever I wanted.

The teams took to the field without a huge deal of razzmatazz but after about 10 mins play was abandoned as a freak storm deluged the pitch and the fans in the cheap uncovered seats were getting well and truely drenched. Things started to get a bit heated as they were shouting for the gates that separated us to be opened so they get into our enclosure. The stewards and police seem to mull over the implications of this for a while before relenting and letting the soggy mass in. This was great as the atmosphere soon perked up.

First of all lets start with the food. None of your rubbery pies or reconstituted hotdogs here. A constant procession of food & drink vendors shout their wares at you as the cruise up and down the aisles. Quesillos (cheese filled tortillas), Vigoron (pork rinds & cabbage wrapped in banana leaf), Cerviche (raw fish marinated in lime served out of coolers), Asado (roasted meats) sweets, sandwiches, tiny bags of nuts (with a thin moustachioed guy constantly shouting Nipi,Nipi,Nipi,Nipi! on a loop) are just some of the delights you can sample from the comfort of your seat.

Whilst football in the UK has only recently moved from its white working class male roots baseball in Nicaragua is a family affair. Nicaragua in general is a very young country (the median age is 23 compared to 40 in the UK). Maybe its a remnant of Catholicism, maybe there's not much on the TV or maybe they can't afford babysitters but the stadium is full of the little critters running around and causing havoc. It makes for a pleasant atmosphere. Those who run the club even let the street kids come round with sacks to collect the discarded cans and bottles. There is nothing like poverty to encourage you to recycle.

An annoying habit that the Nicas have got from the American cousins is their obsession of sponsorship and advertising. Virtually everything is sponsored in some shape or form. At virtually every pause in the game the stadium announcer would boom out the same four adverts. One for a steak house, one for rum, one for a travel agency and one for Marfil soap which I've still got stuck in my head as I write this.

"Jabon Marfil!!!!! Lava, lava y nunca se acaba!"

It's brainwashing taken to Clockwork Orange proportions. I would have bought a box of the stuff just to shut the guy up!

As the innings moves past the half way stage the brass band starts to crank up the volume and we are treated to some booty shaking in the aisle from one die-hard as he is cheered on by the crowd. Then, apropos of nothing, the stadium announcer decides to play The Village People's YMCA during a break in the activity and the crowd all does the synchronised dance moves. This makes me very happy.

Rival fans are not segregated and a tiny group of Tigres fans sat to my left were getting progressively drunker as the game wore on. By the end they were hammered and took to questioning the sexuality of the Tiburones pitcher. At the end of the 9th with the game tied at 3-3 they were loud but they exploded into rapture when deep in the 10th with bases loaded their batter hit one over left field above the despairing gloves of the Tiburones outfielders. Game over.

Overall it’s a great night out and a unique glimpse into an aspect of Nicaraguan culture. It’s an assault on the senses and a must for baseball virgins. In Granada there is no better place to pop your cherry.

Vieques Puerto Rico - Part 4: Beaches of Babylon

The combination of white sand and turquoise water has long been the travel agent's favoured remedy for sun starved urbanites jonesing for a break from grey concrete and greyer skies.  The suggestion is that once your toes touch the sand you will completely forget your boss is an asshole and your spouse is cheating on you. Providing you aren't on holiday with either you can guarantee the beaches of Vieques quell the urge to go on a killing spree in the office/family home (for a few months at least).

With that in mind, coming to Vieques without visiting the wildlife refuge beaches is like going to Oktoberfest and have a mineral water with your salad.  These are the jewels in the Vieques crown and are not to be missed.  When the Viequenses kicked the Navy out in 2003 they not only waved off their supposed oppressors but achieved the added bonus of suddenly having access to miles of pristine coastline that was previously out of bounds to the general public. 

Seventy years of Navy control has meant no hotels, restaurants, vendors and all the other man made crap built in the name of convenience that clutters up most of world's natural beauty.  What we have left is a smorgasbord of postcard pretty beaches you can now explore at your leisure.

Despite their undeniable beauty there is a darker side to the Navy's occupation.  The EPA has confirmed there are still residual traces of ambient pollution in the form of mercury, lead, uranium and napalm from all the munitions testing that has taken place over the years. It's not enough to cause you to grow an extra head but probably not going to increase your life expectancy. 

In fact the Puerto Rican Health Department has deemed this pollution to be the cause for a 27% increase in cancer rates on the island compared to the mainland.  Lawyers have been rubbing their hands with glee at this news and have served legal proceedings faster than Usain Bolt ordering some McNuggets.

Nowadays, it is hard to believe the Navy were the polluting ogres they are claimed to be. I cycled all over the preserve and there is hardly any visible evidence the Navy were ever even there.  The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service now manage the site which is the largest national refuge in the Caribbean.

Appearances can be deceiving though. Critics have argued that much of the inaccessible eastern area have been converted to refuge status purely as a ploy to keep humans out and avoid the expensive large scale clean up required or remove all unexploded ordinance and toxic chemicals from the island.  Until they teach the manatee to sweep for bombs and drink the chemicals they will remain out of sight and out of mind in the dense foliage and Caribbean waters.

Whilst the damage to humans is still a matter of conjecture I have to say, outside of the sea, I noticed a distinct lack of nature within the preserve.  Very few birds, lizards or other mammals are visible in an area which has had little or no human habitation gives me cause for concern.  This may have to do with pollution or possibly be caused by the numerous mongoose you will see flitting in and out of bushes.  They seem to be the island's success story and no doubt have played a part in reducing the number of birds.

One thing I want to clear up is the out of date info on the Internet about roads being so treacherous you need a Hummer to navigate them.  This may have been the case a few years ago but is not so now.  From Esperanza its a smooth, pleasant 7 mile cycle to Blue Beach via the PR997 on a mixture of asphalt and hard grit roads and the bonus is there are no large hills. In fact the road is completely paved all the way to Red Beach. You could roller skate there! (if you were mental).  If you want to investigate Orchid Beach and Secret Beach you could easily park up and walk as these roads are still a bit "rustic" but not as bad as I was expecting.

The first main beach of note past the Old Camp Garcia gates is Playa Caracas or Red Beach (the old Navy names seem to be on their way out now). I was there on a Tuesday (it might have been a holiday)and the car park was bumper to bumper with SUV's. Caracas is a broad bay of light sand with calm turquoise water which is perfect for families.  A group of youngsters were getting their drink on and were using their van as a makehift sound system with reggaeton up to 11 .  It's not a beach to come if you want solitude as it is likely to be full of sociable Puerto Ricans.

Of course us Europeans are more introspective and seek out the furthest most untouched beaches to fulfil some sort of Robinson Crusoe fantasy.  Don't worry, a bit further along there is something for the castaways amongst you .  Heading out from Caracas the road stops being tarmac and goes into a dusty hard grit bordered by thick forests of sea grape and sand spurs.

Its about 3 miles to Blue Beach (Playa Chiva) which is not just one beach but a large stretch of coastline (over a mile at least) with multiple access points (I counted at least 12 numbered entrances) each with their own little lane or car park area. You can dip down into one of the lanes emerge onto the beach and see if that stretch takes your fancy (or is secluded enough for you). If not just carry on down the road.

I choose a spot just left of Cayo Chiva, a rocky pancake of an island within swimming distance, and comandeer a nice little beach amongst the rocks with some shade and some prime snorkeling.  I had planned on swimming out to the island only to be put off by the conspicuous notices warning that I might be blown up by unexploded ordinance.  Chatting to the locals I was told that people have been swimming here for years but because of the rise of recent litigation warning notices have been plastered all over the area just in case any one was stupid enough to want to take home a souvenir.

Banned from swimming out I console myself with some excellent snorkeling from the shore.  I spot some fearsome barracuda (they look mean but won't hurt you unless provoked) peering at the abundant schools of fish in a healthy looking coral system.  There are tons of spiny sea urchins in this area so swim shoes are advised.

Just as I am about to head back in I see one of the most beautiful sights a snorkeller could wish for.  A huge green sea turtle about the size of an SUV hubcap floats by in front of my eyes and gracefully flaps away like a lazy bird flying through treacle. I follow at a respectful distance as it munches away on the plentful sea grass and occasionally it comes to the surface to open its beak and gulp down some sea air.

I shout over to a couple I met from St Thomas whose wife has been looking for a turtle all holiday and she comes bounding out into the sea. It is only then I realised turtles can really motor when they feel disturbed as at top speed we are unable to keep up with it any further.

If you want even more isolation you can head a mile or so over to Playa Escondida (Secret Beach) at a clearly sign posted fork in the road.  If driving, a SUV is essential as the access road to this beach is steep and rocky with barely enough room for two cars.  This narrow beach really is tucked away behind verdant hills and almost hidden from view. There were remenants of makeshift chairs and tables in the surrounding vegetation. I can only imagine what a cool party you could throw on this beach if you could be bothered to lug all the gear here with you.

The last accesible beach in this area is Playa La Plata (Orchid Beach). The terrain changes once again on the way here as huge Mesquite cacti loom out of the bush. This really is not a good time to get a puncture as you are miles from "civilisation", the mobile signal is non existant and the thorns of these bad boys go through car tyres like a knife through butter. 

I pay careful attention to the road and suddenly emerge through the sea grape onto a rustic swathe of open white sand facing the broad bay of Ensenada Honda. There are a few intrepid visitors on this beach (maybe the "end of the line" kudos as attracted the castaways) and an enterprising couple have made a fort out of palm tree fronds and bamboo poles to protect themselves from the tropical sun.

After a few minutes relaxing on this beach you may well consider moving in with them and giving your boss the middle finger.  There is no better life then that of a castaway.

In the new year: The absolute last blog on Vieques : Bio-Bay Baby!

Trip Report: Vieques Puerto Rico Part 3 - Piers, Bunkers and Isabel Segunda

After yesterday's adventures I felt confident enough to tackle a long ride today. They don't come much longer or hotter then cycling from Esperanza via Isabel Segunda to Playa Arenas on the North-western tip. You need to take plenty of water and fill up when you can because its definitely thirsty work.

From Esperanza the easiest way to the North coast (if not necessarily the quickest) is to head up PR201 over the spine of the island past the turn off for the Wildlife Refuge beaches. The road is perfect with forest on either side and respectful motorists even though I saw only one either cyclist the entire day. Its only 5 miles to Isabel II but you do have to negotiate a reasonably large hill. The freewheel down kind of makes up for it though (I'm lying).

Compared to soporific Esperanza, Isabel II is a bustling metropolis with that typical faded Latin port charm that you find in the Caribbean. It has a lot more locals here so you do get more of a Boricueño experience. There are banks, hardware stores and estate agents but its not a particularly pretty town as all the original Spanish architecture has no doubt been wiped out by the regular hurricanes that lash the coast.

I grab some provisions from a colmado and head to the only historical structure of note, Fortin Conde de Mirasol, situated on a bluff overlooking the town. It a nice enough fort with some cannons, a museum and impressive views of the town but compared with the grand offerings in Old San Juan its like watching your local park football team after seeing a Barcelona master class at the Nou Camp.

From Isabel II its 10 miles west to Laguna Arenas and the first leg out of town isn't the most picturesque. People wonder why I bang on about cycling but there are a disproportionate amount of cars for such a lightly populated island and most of them congregate on this stretch. Luckily, you only have to put up with exhaust fumes for the first 4 miles of the PR200 because as soon as you get past the airport the traffic melts away and you are left with some wonderful countryside with a 28 Days Later vibe.

Just past the airport is the island's famous 300 yr old Ceiba tree. The Ceiba tree is respected in this part of the world and rumoured to have mystical powers and connections to the underworld. It just looks like a big thorny tree to me. There is a little beach here where I hang out with a Puerto Rican family doing what they do best; chilling on the beach. They pull their van into the shade of some palm trees, crank up the salsa music and get the barbeque going. Bliss.

A bit further along, Mosquito Pier is something of a curate's egg. A mile long stretch of concrete sea wall built in the 1940's it was initially planned to stretch all the way to the mainland and would have housed a huge naval base to rival Pearl Harbour. However, the project was abandoned early in its construction after the US realised it was unnecessary and risky have all their naval eggs in one basket.

Despite being over 70 years old it looks like there is some newer construction in the distance so I cycle to the end only to be stopped by a chain link fence protecting a run down guard house and little else. A forlorn security guard plods about and is only too happy to have someone to talk to when I make eye contact.

He tells me that six years ago the end of the pier was refurbished and there were grand plans to turn the structure into a cruise ship port. Unfortunately the project has been mired in red tape and "politica" and the poor guy had been made to stand there, like a character in a Franz Kafka novel, mindlessly protecting a few planks of wood for no discernable reason. To combat the boredom he has taken to livening up his empty days by creating little stone sculptures on the surrounding rocks. I humour him by taking some photos whilst simultaneously feeling his ennui.

Carrying on a few miles down the road there isn't a soul to be seen. The countryside opens up and the horses wander about freely oblivious to my presence. There is a derelict creeper covered church silently rotting by the side of the road. For me this part of the island is the biggest draw as aside from the strip of grey asphalt snaking its way through the foliage you get a sense that the island has looked much this way for thousands of years.

Another reason to come this far out is to have a snoop round the military bunkers the Navy used to store ammo. These Cold War remnants are not that well sign posted so you have take a left about 4 miles past Mosquito Pier to discover these bizarre concrete relics cut into the earth and camouflaged from the sky by the constant threat of impending jungle.

You could hold one amazing Tomb Raider themed game of paintball in this area with its maze of paths, abandoned structures and verdant slopes. If you look carefully there is still some faded military paraphernalia lying around indicating this was a hive of activity at one point. Now the area is merely a curio, an anachronism, a fragment of a bygone era.

From here its a comparatively short hop to Green Beach and its excellent snorkelling but it was getting late and I had more pressing concerns, namely, cycling the 15 miles back to Esperanza. I was beginning to think that 4x4 wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Next Week: Part 4 -The Wildlife Refuge Beaches.