What turned out to be our final stop onshore was the Ecotrek to the Bamboo Falls. It’s not on Google Maps but it’s close to the Seven Sisters Waterfalls in the Grand Etang National Park.

We started off with the usual collection by our tour guides, and then we were split into more manageable bus-load sized groups and taken aboard our “King Elvis” buses.

After our first outing on St Vincent, everything else was easy going in so far as exercise went. So even though there was a bit of a hill getting down to the river (and therefore that same hill after our swim on the way back), it was all very doable.

The way down the hill was interrupted periodically by our guides showing us one or other of the spices and fruit trees growing along the path. Grenada is the Spice Island after all, so it was interesting learning how some of the spices are prepared and what they were used for.

The river crossing was supported by a rope strung across the river and this was apparently rated for 100kgs (220lbs). As it was totally optional to use the rope and really it was just there for assistance, I hoped nobody had been put off the excursion because of the weight limit.

As it was I ended up carrying Ange on my back for the middle section of the river (about three steps) and the rest was able to be done on the rocks in the water, so a little bit of overkill there!

On the way back (with feet wet from the swim) a couple of people slipped on the rocks and sat rather heavily on one or other of the stones, damaging ego more than body.

There were two river crossings, the second one not supported by a rope but very near jumpable, being so narrow. This one was a little more dangerous because it was a little less exposed and so the rocks had a little layer of lichen on them – making them that much more slippery underfoot.

But after that it was plain sailing.

And the prize! A gorgeous pool at the base of a thunderous waterfall. Even more slippery getting down to the water’s edge, but well worth it after you did so. Cool rather than bracing.

On the way back we stopped off for a few minutes at the Visitors Centre where we could buy knick-knacks, spices or fruit. But most people just used the toilets and free Wi-Fi.

The tour continued on the way back with the guides pointing out the painted eucalyptus tree and talking a bit about the history and touching on “the intervention” back in the 1980s when US and Caribbean forces invaded the country.

This was our last port of call, we then spent a night at sea puttering around off the shore of Grenada at two knots before returning to Barbados.

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We’re not from Australia, but were still a little nervous about swimming with creatures that had killed Steve Irwin. We needn’t have worried – as our briefings explained, these were different animals and unless we applied force onto the barb, it was physically impossible for the stingrays to harm us. Phew!

But first we had some kayaking to do!

I had to go in the back, and I was surprised that Ange’s end wasn’t a foot out of the water such is the mass difference between us!

A leisurely paddle around the island and peering through the shallows at the mangrove roots in search for some sort of wildlife passed the time nicely enough.

And then we were off to the platform for feeding the stingrays.

It was awesome!

My favourite part of the clip is when the ray brushes past the lady and she freaks out trying to get away.

After leaving St John’s in Antigua, we headed to St George’s on Grenada.

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I had seen images of planes landing mere metres above the heads of beach goers on social media and in the news, so I was fascinated to get the opportunity to go and see Maho Beach itself.

We’d been one of the first cruises operational after the Covid-19 restrictions had been eased, and as a result of that we’d been the lone ship in each port we arrived at. So it was a surprise when one ship after another arrived in Philipsburg until the towering cruise ships felt like skyscrapers along city blocks.

After getting into our buses and starting the trek across the island, we arrived at Maho Beach in time for a small jet to land directly above us.

We soon found that the local bar had the times of the big planes coming in – a word of warning though, these are the expected times: they can be earlier or later!

There were plenty of people at the well built up bar and restaurants to the left of the beach, and the bucket of six beers for $15 looked like a great deal. Some tourists were plonked down on the sun loungers under an umbrella and drinking their way through a couple of those buckets.

But we decided to go for a walk to the other side of the beach. There we found another, less crowded bar and settled in for some wings and a drink.

After seeing a couple of the larger planes landing (interspersed with a steady stream of turbo prop and smaller jets), we went for a swim on the private beach outside the flash hotels. Nobody asked us to move and we weren’t on any of the sun loungers so a peaceful few hours in the sun passed the time nicely.

After returning to the ship, we had dinner and then went for a walk on the deck. We hadn’t left port and we were curious as to why that might be. As we made our way along the deck we noticed that another Royal Caribbean ship was pulling in opposite us and after they had tied up, a group of our crew made their way with all their luggage onto the dock, in readiness for some sort of prisoner exchange?

We got talking to some of the other observers and discovered that these crew members were heading to Europe for the start of the season there – the two weeks it would take conveniently matching the quarantine rules and allowing them to get the ship ready for passengers after being laid up in port while Covid was raging. Mystery solved!

Our next stop was St John’s in Antigua.

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Our first stop and our first excursion. We milled around with all the other tour passengers before being divided up into bus loads and heading out of the port area.

We were heading towards the Vermont Nature Trails, the map not really reflecting the altitude and ruggedness of the roads.

Our guide stopped off periodically while we were in the open to discuss the different produce being grown along our way. Corn, taro, spices, bananas, breadfruit… the climate certainly makes it easy to grow!

And then the jungle began and the talking stopped. It was steps. Soo many steps. We were at altitude (well, 1200 feet/400 metres) and it was hard going. Maybe not “Monastery at Petra” hard going, but not far off. One of our party couldn’t make it. We left his body where it had fallen on the side of the track.

But we did it. The seats at the top were very welcome and we were happy for the rest. Our guide was a retired Ranger who had been involved with the project putting in the trail. When I found this out I turned to him and said “So we’ve got you to thank for all those stairs?” He saw the funny side.

We took the opportunity to talk to some of the other people on the cruise. It was an interesting cross section. Some, like us, were from the UK. Others were American or Canadian who were escaping the snow and cold.

I chatted with one guy who was a Canadian doctor who had spent some time out in the wilderness of Alaska tending to the local villages up there. Interesting guy – super into wildlife. He’d been to every continent and raved about New Zealand.

We kept an eye out for the native parrot of St Vincent, but didn’t have any luck. Our guide got super excited at one point, recognising the parrot’s call. We all laughed as he hadn’t realised that my new doctor friend was actually playing the call on his phone in an attempt to attract the real parrots to our spot.

Going back was sooo easy. It took maybe a quarter of the energy that going up did and it was soo much more enjoyable! On the way down someone saw some freshwater crayfish.

And the best part – free rum punch at the end!

Saying goodbye to St Vincent and the Grenadines, we headed to Basseterre on St Kitts.

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The original name for the island was actual St Christopher’s Island, but a common shortening of Christopher was Kitt, so in the 17th Century it evolved into St Kitts Island, or just St Kitts.

Like a lot of the other Caribbean islands, sugar was grown in plantations and on St Kitts, a train line was built in 1912 to take the cane to a central processing plant.

The sugar industry took a huge hit when the price dropped when the world turned to beets and the railway was in decline by the late 1920s. It was resurrected in 2003 as a tourist attraction.

The remnants of windmills used to split the sugar cane are dotted around the island. The train winds its way half way around the island pottering along at 10mph. Fast enough to navigate the slight inclines, but slow enough to allow goats and cows to get out of the way.

The tour guide was Patricia (but you can call me Sweet-P) and she kept up a running commentary of everything visible from the train, including the island’s junkyard. A rare tour indeed where the guide lists all the garbage she can see: “refrigerators, containers, machinery” all in that languid Caribbean drawl.

Monkeys! Ange actually saw them first, bounding away in front of the train along the rails. She actually thought that they were rabbits at first. Then they cut left and headed out over the fields. The farmers on St Vincent have to deal with snakes and monkeys, making for some interesting hazards!

Dancers in traditional costumes joined each carriage to demonstrate some of the islands dances. We’d seen them making their way through the other carriages, and the second time through a couple of the kids got up and attempted to learn the dance.

There are four bridges on the route, and this was the most scenic.

While we crossed over the road four times, we crossed it more often than that. The cars waited patiently and after the second or third crossing I noticed that the barriers were manual and were being operated by the same guy in the cream SUV.

He would drive along ahead, block the road until we’d passed and then jump back into his car to go to the next stop. Waiting there until we caught back up and repeat the whole thing all over again. It took two hours to get to the EcoPark and then two hours back so four hours of nurse-maiding the train through the roads.

The route finished at the St Kitts EcoPark, where we decamped to complete the circuit of the island by mini bus and the other group took our places on the train for the return trip. After returning to the ship and leaving Basseterre, we headed to Philipsburg on the Dutch side of Sint Maarten.

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As the world began to get back to normal after Covid, we decided to have a look at some of the islands of the Caribbean, leaving the port of Bridgetown in Barbados on the Grandeur of the Seas.

Checking in required us to travel 200m by bus from the terminal to the testing facility where we had to do a lateral flow Covid test and then wait for the results.

There was supposed to be Wi-Fi so that we could get the email regarding the test results, but it was a little patchy so we ended up going up to the desk after 25 minutes and they pulled up our results, allowing us to proceed.

The Grandeur of the Seas was just outside the testing station, tantalisingly close while we were waiting for the results…

And then we were allowed on board. Our room cards were in an envelope on the door. Our cabin was the cheapest they had: on the second floor, with no windows. The mirrors were partly to make the room appear larger!

Having said that, the room did have a couch. Which was the perfect size for Ange.

My favourite was Channel 3 which featured a feed from the camera on the bridge looking out over the front right of the ship. Handy for figuring out whether we’d docked yet. The feed rotated through maps of where we were including such data as our depth, course, speed, time of sunrise and sunset etc.

There was a compulsory safety briefing which meant we had to go up to our muster station and check in.

But that was it – time to explore the ship! The top level featured a running track.

A big screen TV for watching movies. Sounds great. But the soundtrack for the movies would cut out randomly for 30-60 seconds every 5-10 minutes, replaced with random music. Nothing ruins immersion quicker!

The view down to the Windjammer buffet restaurant.

The Solarium was an adults only area under glass with a deep pool (and lifeguard) and two Jacuzzis.

The main restaurant was Art Deco’s finest Great Gatsby.

The Centrum was a central atrium with live music at the base of the elevators. Which was a terrible design as the Customer Service desk, Next Cruise desk and Excursions desks were all on the fifth floor, so the music drowned out any attempts at communications.

A climbing wall was at the stern of the ship. Looking down from the top would be 200ft from the water’s surface.

There was a slight shifting of our destinations due to Covid but we ended up going to:

Kingstown in St Vincent and the Grenadines

Basseterre in St Kitts and Nevis

Philipsburg in Sint Maarten

St John’s in Antigua

St George’s in Grenada

before returning to Bridgetown in Barbados.

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Animal Flower Cave

Starting off at the northern most point of the island is the Animal Flower Cave, so called because the initial discoverers of the sea-anemones which resided in the pools thought that they were flowers. But when they touched them and the “flowers” reacted, they changed their opinion!

It’s cheap to go down into the cave – we only saw one sea-anemone, but the real star of the show are the pools. They’re fed from the ocean and periodically a large wave will crash in from the Atlantic and replenish the water – make sure you keep your wits about you!

Keep an eye on their FaceBook page because that’s where they post if its closed due to the waves being too rough. A long way to go only to discover that it’s closed! BB$25 per adult which is about £9 for a unique swimming experience, I thought was worth the money.

Barbados Wildlife Reserve

Feeding time is at 2pm and if you go anytime other than that you can expect to be disappointed. Sure the rest of the animals will still be around, but there’s something about the concentrated chaos of all the animals getting fed at once plus the wild monkeys joining in which makes this place fun. At a US$15 (£11) entrance fee for adults, it won’t break the bank either.

Bathsheba Beach

The wild Atlantic east coast of Barbados is the rough side – ok for surfing, less so for swimming. Bathsheba is a fishing village with a typical east coast beach. It’s known for it’s unusual rock formations and the largest one is just close enough to the beach for exploring. Take your shoes and be careful of the sea urchins, surf and coral.

Harrison’s Cave

They’ve got big plans! The entrance hall has a map of what it will look like soon: a slide down the hill, zip lines and suspension bridge. But what brings people here is the train trip through the caves. Harrison’s Cave isn’t cheap (adults US$57/£42), but the other worldliness certainly contributes to the uniqueness of the experience.

Crane Beach and Ginger Bay

While the East Coast is best avoided unless you have a surfboard under your arm, there are the odd exceptions – beaches enjoying a little bit of protection from headlands making them swimmable. We went to Ginger Bay first but it was deserted – never a good sign when swimming.

Around the corner to Crane Bay and there were a lot of people in the water and umbrellas and sun lounges. So even if we did get swept away, there were other people around who might see/hear and raise the alarm.

Snorkelling

We booked an excursion with Tranquillity Cruises who took us out to Carlisle Bay where six shipwrecks just off the shore allow for an interesting snorkel. They also stop and feed the turtles so you get to swim with them as well.

And if that wasn’t enough fun, there is also a slide from the top deck of the boat. You get 90 minutes and a free drink for your US$28 ticket and they’ll pick you up from your hotel for a fee as well.

Rockley Beach

Rockley Beach is nice – its got a gentle set of waves which you can just body surf on and its protected being on the south coast. It also has some great sunsets and is well served by restaurants and bars, featuring a lovely boardwalk.

Worthing Beach

Also on the south coast, Worthing Beach is a tiny strip of sand between the ocean and the properties bordering it. More interesting than awesome.

Oistin’s Fish Fry

Only on a Friday night. This is the place to party, its got a lot of independent BBQ grillers and all offering an interesting array of fish and fish alternatives. We had swordfish, dolphinfish, billfish and chicken. It’s all cooked fresh in front of you and served with some healthy sides.

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As soon as the Covid-19 related lockdown looked like it might be relaxing, we booked our trip to Jordan. I’d been before and Ange was interested in whether my stories about Jerash and Petra were accurate, and I had omitted Wadi Rum last time, so I was intrigued as to whether it would live up to expectations.

We arrived into Amman quite late at night – we were supposed to be there at 10pm but with an hour delay with our connection in London (one of the crew’s PCR test result was late), it was closer to 11pm by the time we touched down.

We’d arranged to be picked up by our hotel which was a little more expensive than the posted standard taxi fares, but being able to not have the hassle of dealing with the local taxi drivers and potentially being ripped off when you’ve spent a long time on a flight was worth the trade off. We stayed at the Marriott Amman Hotel.

Jerash

In the morning we checked Uber to see how much it should be to go to Jerash. The previous time I’d been to Jerash, I had gone with a private tour which pretty much consisted of just the transport there and back, so I was interested in how much just the transport would cost.

According to Uber it should only be £20 each way (Jordanian Dinars are almost 1:1 with GBP – GBP 1.04 = 1 JOD / 0.96 JOD = 1 GBP). Which meant if we went on the same “tour” as I did last time it would cost £150 for the pair of us, whereas if we Uber-d there and back it should only cost £40!

So we ordered an Uber. Who promptly told us a sob story about how Visa had blocked his account and that he would not be paid for the trip and so we could either pay for a cash fare (for the same amount), or else we would have to get a different driver.

I’m not sure how much was true and how much he was just trying to get around the various fees that he would be charged by Uber/Visa but we eventually agreed, me hoping that if he decided to murder us and leave our dismembered bodies in the desert somewhere that we had left enough of a digital trail to point to our driver.

Forty minutes later we were getting out of his car at the Jerash carpark. The driver had tried to enter the complex at the Visitor Centre which was being renovated and so we’d gone to the main entrance, which really he should have dropped us off at anyways – from my memory of my last trip that really is the only entrance.

We then fought our way through the street merchants to the entrance and showed our Jordan Passes to the ticket office. I expected the local convenience shop across the path from the ticket office to have extortionate prices but we were offered water at a reasonable rate and picked up a couple of punnets of nuts to fuel our day.

Jerash soaked up a good two hours of wandering in the hot sun (take lots of water and some snacks for energy!) and then we headed to the entrance to try and find an Uber.

We couldn’t access WiFi and my SIM card didn’t have internet access, so we went out into the carpark to see if there were any taxi drivers there. The local tout for the restaurant helped us out and introduced us to Ali. Ali agreed to take us back to the hotel for £25, and on the way quizzed us on where else we were going and for how long.

He suggested that he could take us to each of the spots on our itinerary. I was wary, and agreed only for him to take us to the Dead Sea the following day, and on to Petra after that. I was worried that he would charge far more than what Uber said the route should cost. I knew that he would be less than what a taxi organised by the hotels would cost, because they would be adding their cut!

Back at the hotel I checked with Uber what the costs between each of the stops should be and found that Ali’s quotes were very competitive. I also checked him out on social media to find references on him on TripAdvisor – all of them complimentary. I began to feel a little more comfortable about our new best friend!

We had a late lunch and enjoyed the pool and Jacuzzi in the hotel, before dinner and bed.

Dead Sea

Ali picked us up at the appointed time and took us to the hotel on the shores of the Dead Sea. Apart from a brief pause while sheep crossed the road (reminding us of country roads in New Zealand), and a mask checkpoint, the trip was non descript.

Our access to the Dead Sea was all through the hotel we stayed at – the Movenpick Resort & Spa Dead Sea, and we didn’t end up leaving the resort the whole time that we were there.

Petra

When we left the Dead Sea, we headed south along the coast and then cut drastically to the east, ascending the mountains very steeply. Ali proudly told us that not many people came this way, and judging from the goats on the road and the sheer drops from the side of the road, I can’t say that I blame them. Great views admittedly!

We arrived at Petra and stayed directly opposite the entrance to the complex in the Movenpick Resort Petra. This was my second time staying at the hotel, the first time was in summer, so a totally different experience. I hoped that this visit to Petra would be better than last time.

It was Ange’s first time at Petra, so I wanted to make sure she had the full on “reveal” experience by walking through the Siq to let the Treasury have its full impact. I think she enjoyed it.

After walking all the way down to the restaurant, we took a camel back to the Treasury as our legs were tired and I managed to get us a good price.

We had to walk the rest of the way out of Petra. The next day we got up early and took the golf cart as far as the Treasury before walking back to the restaurant for the steps to the Monastery.

Now the last time I had come to Petra I was maybe 15kg (30lbs) lighter, so I thought it might be a little harder going up the steps. But I had also had two years of sitting around not doing any exercise, so the ascent dang near killed me!

The two main attractions seen, we made our way back out yet again, this time to have dinner and then return for the Petra by candle light experience. This is an additional cost, and reviews we’d read online had ranged from breathless wonder to cynical sneering, so we weren’t quite sure what to expect.

Objectively, both extremes were factually correct. It costs more. It’s windy and cold. It’s a little dangerous walking on uneven ground at night. There are musical performances. There is a reading which is hard to hear 2/3rds of the time unless the speaker is pointing straight at you (he has a megaphone).

But for me the candles on the ground look nice, and the coloured lights they put on the Treasury at the end were good too. But what made it all worth it for me was my slight pyromaniac streak. You see the candles are in waxed paper bags, weighted down with sand so they don’t blow away.

But occasionally the wind would blow the sides of the bag so that it was close enough to the candle’s flame for it to set the paper alight. And when that happened, the paper would burn away into a shower of sparks before being extinguished by the wind. It didn’t happen very often, but I enjoyed the fleeting chaos when it did. It wasn’t very dangerous because the same wind which made it happen would also blow out the fire very quickly.

We still didn’t quite get to all the different parts of Petra, it’s just so tiring to get into the complex, let alone using your energy to climb all the stairs and see all the parts. I guess we’ll just have to come back.

Little Petra

Just up the road from Petra is its little brother, Little Petra. This is much more compact and accessible. A short walk from the carpark and maybe 30-45 minutes is all it takes, but you get a more intimate insight into the Nabateans and their construction methods with the cisterns you see here.

We stayed nearby at the Seven Wonders Luxury Camp, which was a five minute drive from Little Petra. Or a thirty minute walk if you were keen.

Wadi Rum

We had arranged for Ali to organise our transfer from Little Petra to Wadi Rum and for a jeep tour of Wadi Rum. He dropped us off at the meeting spot on the edge of the Wadi Rum Protected Area and our jeep tour began.

As we drove through the desert I could recognise scenery from various movies: Wadi Rum plays Mars in many movies and other planets also. I was looking around at the different colours – splashes of red on the regular beige/tan before I realised I was basically looking at the inspiration for the spice of Dune.

I amused Ange by illustrating the non-rhythmic walking patterns the Fremen used to avoid attracting Sandworms.

Dotted around the grand expanse of the 720 sq km (277 sq mile) Wadi Rum Protected Area are attractions and features which link up to form the journey. Some are only visible in a six hour trip, some are clustered close enough that you can get them all in a two hour trip.

We got our money’s worth with a three hour tour which took closer to four hours (and included lunch), but by the end of the day when the sun was dipping we were happy the bouncing around in the back of the truck was coming to an end.

The driver brought us back into the cab of the truck because it was getting chilly and the wind was getting up. And because a sandstorm was on its way! We drove through near zero visibility for about half an hour before our driver dropped us off at our next hotel, the UFO Luxotel, which is just outside the Protected Area.

The next day we went for a walk across the desert to the nearby French Fort. This was actually a film set for a TV series that has since been abandoned except for a caretaker Bedouin family who look after the place. Or they might have been squatters.

And then off to our next hotel, the Aicha Memories Luxury Camp, which was right in the middle of the Protected Area. The hotel had a free pickup from the Wadi Rum Village, and they took the time to discuss whether we wanted to do a jeep tour. They looked a bit put out to learn that we had already done one.

After the trip to the hotel and settling in, we signed up for the sunset camel ride. Without many clouds in the desert, the sunset was a far different experience than the one over the Dead Sea from the infinity pool at the Movenpick’s Zara Spa. But we did enjoy the view from the rocks, a group of Italians in recently purchased head gear occupying the spot below us.

After dinner we went out for a spot of star gazing, a free activity including some free photos, taken with very long exposures. Each room in the hotel had Bedouin jackets which were lifesavers against the cold.

Aqaba

And then it was time for one last stop, this time in Aqaba. Aqaba is the port town on the Red Sea, just across the Israeli border from the town of Eilat. I was surprised that the land border had been closed, though because of my experience crossing the border I didn’t mourn the closing.

We checked into our hotel, the Movenpick Aqaba before heading out to explore the city. We decided to walk to Aqaba Fort along the touristy area of the City Centre. The fort was a little underwhelming so we walked to the Fisherman’s Harbour and tried to dodge the touts wanting to take us out in their glass bottomed boats. And then we headed back to the hotel for a soak in the Jacuzzi.

And then to the airport for the flight home. I was surprised that such a small airport (three gates and a walk across the tarmac straight onto the plane) had a lounge, and then I was astonished that the lounge had alcohol. In an Islamic country!

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When the Dead Sea has been on your bucket list for years, it’s only natural to want to know how to easily access it from your hotel, in this case the Mövenpick Resort and Spa Dead Sea. Which is why I’m totally confused by the map that looks like something out of Disneyland. 

The check-in clerk is waxing lyrical about the restaurants, the spa, the live music, the belly dancers … the pools, so many pools …

I’m bemused. Surely the Dead Sea is the main point of the hotel? Apparently not. Guests want a lot more options than just a patch of salty water to float upright in. They want summer pools, winter pools, childrens pools, infinity pools …

‘What’s the quickest way to the Dead Sea?’ I ask, since we’ve arrived late afternoon and it’s getting on for 4pm.

‘Oh just follow the path, go left, and right, then straight, you’ll see it,’ he says vaguely gesturing to the map. ‘We close it at 4.30 though.’
‘So, why can’t we go there after 4.30?’ I persist.
‘It’s too dangerous for guests.’ 
‘Ah …’

I’m none the wiser, but I guess we’ll find out why.

After dumping our luggage in the room, we do a dusk reconnaissance to get our bearings.

The resort is 6,000 square metres in size so it’s a fair trek to actually get down to the beach and the sun is quickly dipping in the sky. On the way, Chris is distracted by the Hydro Pool which he thinks may have hydro slides but the gate is locked and we can’t figure out how to get in. 

‘It must be part of Zara Spa,’ I say. 

People pass us on golf carts because the place is so large it warrants them. There’s even a funicular but it’s not working. Eventually we reach the Dead Sea, the lowest place on earth. So the sign says. But as Chris points out there are stairs going down further so isn’t that the lowest point? Maybe they should move the sign.

Down at the shoreline, there’s a square patch of the sea marked out by buoys where a handful of people are froliking about being careful not to get water in their eyes.

Apparently it stings like hell and has been described as like ‘acid burning your eyeballs’. You’re temporarily blinded until it’s washed out with fresh water. If you have any cuts or scratches you’ll know about it too. 

The pain is because the water is 33% salt, ten times more than normal salt water. I dip my hand in and lick a finger. Yup, it’s pretty salty. 

A couple of men are covered from top to toe in black mud. I’m not sure what that’s about but I guess it’s like the silica mud at the Blue Lagoon in Iceland that you can slap on yourself. A hotel staff member seems to be in charge of the mud pot and the freshwater hose. There are also newish looking showers and sun loungers set up. 

Chris suggests we come down early tomorrow after breakfast and give it a go. There’s an unspoken feeling that the Dead Sea is unpredictable and might be off limits if anything untoward crops up. And I don’t want to miss my chance, because the whole thing is shrinking. 

In the last fifty years it has dropped by 45 metres and is continuing to decrease by over a metre each year. You can actually see where the waterline used to be. This isn’t a climate change issue but a manmade one. The water flowing into it has been diverted for other purposes. The mineral extraction industry is another reason. And Jordan and Israel being extremely dry countries in general.

The next morning, we troop down to the beach again to actually get in. Even though it’s Jordan’s winter, the Dead Sea is warmish, 23 C according to the helpful sign we passed on the way down that indicated the temperatures of the various pools. 

‘You’re only meant to stay in for fifteen minutes,’ cautions the hotel staff member at the shoreline.

Otherwise what? I wonder. Do we explode like slugs? Ignoring the rules we stay in for a decent forty-five minutes. Nothing bad happens. It’s fun being able to float without needing to swim. But incredibly difficult to float on your front without feeling you’re going to pitch face forward into the water. 

Afterwards we get out, use the showers to wash off the salt and sit on the loungers. I bypass the mud mask as it smells a bit. It’s ten o’ clock in the morning and we realise that we don’t have anything else to do for the day.

We can’t go out and explore because we’re in the middle of nowhere, and only surrounded by other resort hotels. We can literally see the Marriott next door from our balcony. Hiking excursions are available but organised by the hotel because the landscape is rocky and steep.   

I’m beginning to understand the necessity of the Disneyland approach. 

The Zara Spa seems to be the logical choice for the afternoon, and at 25 JOD each to use the facilities without treatments, we figure it’s actually not that expensive. We each get a locker that contains a robe, slippers, a towel and a few other goodies. The outdoor hydro pool itself is 28 C and huge. It has various waterfalls, bubbles and jets to target different areas of your body.

Off to the side, overlooking the Dead Sea is an infinity pool with a row of individual Jacuzzi chairs. It’s fantastic.

We stay in the pool for at least three hours, and happen to witness an incredible sunset, until hunger drives us back to the hotel for dinner.

I can now see why the spa is the drawcard for many of the guests that stay in the hotel, a stay which may or may not actually include a dip in the Dead Sea.

In saying that, the spa does have an indoor Dead Sea pool that is 28% salt water and basically gives you the same floating experience as the beach. But without myriad steps, sand, mud and effort. The cheat’s version. If the real thing ever does dry up, there will be a remnant at the Zara Spa for anyone who doesn’t make it in time.

I’m glad that during our visit that we got to try both experiences.

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Getting there

According to Google Maps, it would take 5.5 hours to drive from Edinburgh to Portree in Skye. Relying on public transport it took a little longer than that for us, taking all day to get to Kyle of Lochalsh and then a bus in the morning to finish off the trip – call it a day and a half all up.

It wasn’t all bad though, some of the views from the train being quite stunning.

Aberdeen

One of the reasons it took so long to get to Portree was that the schedules of each of the component legs just didn’t marry up. Given the gaps, we elected to have a look around Aberdeen town centre.

Inverness

With an hour in Inverness we elected to have a meal at the Belhaven Pub near the station to ensure we weren’t late for the train departure.

Overnight at The Kyle

And then we were within eyeshot of the Isle of Skye. We elected to stay overnight at The Kyle Hotel where I’d stayed with Mum 9 years previously when we’d visited the Isle of Skye.

Bus to Portree

The train line finishes at Kyle, so we took the bus to Portree instead.

Portree

The biggest town on Skye is Portree, home to a couple of Co-op supermarkets, the only ones on the island. A network of local bus routes sporadically run allowing the locals to go shopping, the bus stop outside the larger of the supermarkets visited by each of the buses we took.

Cuillin Hills Hotel

The Cuillin Hills Hotel where we’d booked to stay for the week was around a 13 minute (according to Google) walk from the centre of town, visible across the harbour from the main road.

Scorrybreac Circuit

On the first day we decided to do the Scorrybreac Circuit, the start of which we’d passed on the way to the hotel.

We were about to pass the large park-like clearance on our left when I glimpsed a map of New Zealand on the park bench so we had to investigate.

It turns out that the Scorrybreac Circuit runs through the headlands which were the family homestead of the Nicholson family, and the park bench in question was donated by the Nichols clan in New Zealand.

The path meandered pleasantly along the waters edge, the branches of the trees meeting above the trail making a nice canopy. The path wasn’t too muddy and we made good time.

The tide had come in enough to separate the Black Island from the mainland. It turned out that Bonnie Prince Charlie had left from this point dressed as a woman in his return to France after the disastrous battle at Culloden.

Around the corner the path became a little more challenging, gaining elevation and becoming a little more muddy. Looming above us to the left were cliffs with sea hawks apparently nesting in the cliffs. We saw some wide winged birds staying aloft without flapping their wings – surfing the updrafts – but I wasn’t sure whether they were sea hawks or some other species.

As the path turned inland, it started to switch back onto itself as it climbed steeply up the hill to a lookout high above the sea. Below we could make out one of the many salmon farms offshore, and a different path split off the Circuit and headed out over the neighbouring farmland past sheep and cows beyond the hills further along the coast.

We paused on the park bench overlooking the vista for lunch and to say hi to a couple walking their dog, and then continued along the path. It was much less steep and eventually left the overgrowth into farmland on the back of the path.

Though it was only a warm up, the steepness of the hill reminded me of how unfit I was. Ange had made the comment that even though she couldn’t see me on the steepest part of the hill track through the trees and undergrowth, she could still hear me ahead of her because of the wheezing and puffing. Hmph!

Old Man of Storr

The next day we took the bus to the new carpark at the base of the Old Man of Storr. The Old Man is a rocky hill in the shadow of the Storr which is a plateau in the middle of the Trotternish peninsula.

The Old Man was apparently created from a rockfall from the Storr and is one of the most famous walks on the island. The carpark construction going on is an attempt to alleviate the street parking in the height of the summer.

We had checked out the bus time table and saw that we had three hours to get up and back which should not be a problem when the round trip was supposed to take two hours. Even with my low base fitness, we figured we should be alright.

The early going was on good paths with an insistent gradient which allowed you to concentrate on the views without needing to pay much attention to your footing. The high fences and gates made sense as they were to keep deer out.

I never figured out whether the deer were in the uphill section and they were keeping away from the road below or being kept away from the heights above us.

At the top of the section the path joined another, continuing up the hill over a slight rise into a dip. Any positive thoughts generated from the pause in uphill progress were stopped when we saw the what was ahead.

Some workers were creating a rock staircase up the side of the hill, the steepest parts already finished, with the flat parts between steps to be filled with aggregate later. At the bottom of the hill the path through the fence was in the process of being filled, a mechanical digger clearing the path for the bags of aggregate to be spread.

We inched around the digger which almost blocked the path and made good use of the steps. Having good solid rocks beneath us ensured we could concentrate on breathing rather than trying to figure out where to put our feet, so we made good progress again… until the steps ran out and the regular path was roped off to allow workers to create more stone steps.

This meant we had to walk through less firm track churned up by previous track walkers. We did our best goat impressions and made our way back to where the track went and went along reasonably flat track to the base of the Old Man, checking out the other promontory stone structures.

We had made such good progress that Ange wanted to try and replicate the picture we’d seen in the hotel. I was more worried that we’d use up the extra hour buffer before the bus came, but went along.

It was a little disconcerting coming across signs warning not to go any further… from the wrong side! In a couple of cases the “not” was scratched out, or covered in stickers. I couldn’t figure out which path you would have to have taken to come across the signs from the “proper” side, as we had taken the most obvious route up the hill.

We paused for our lunch and then headed around behind the Old Man of Storr, marvelling at the fields of rock from the slide (the cause of the signs – if more rock came down there would be no warning!). The path behind the Old Man towards the Needle was straight from Middle Earth, and a welcome relief from the winds.

The path looped back around, narrow and exposed in parts, but firm enough underfoot. It was with some relief that we retraced our path and headed down the hill. Less strenuous than the route up, still needing to concentrate on path selection until we rejoined the staircase made of stone where the different muscles in our legs reminded us that they weren’t stretched on the way up.

We reached the bottom with about twenty minutes to spare and then proceeded to look for the bus stop. Google Maps had it on the other side of the road about five minutes away so we headed there.

There was nothing at the spot it indicated, so I headed up a little further. Still nothing. I was worried – surely there would be something to show the bus stop? I looked at the printed out bus timetable and it had “Old Man of Storr Carpark” so we broke into a trot and made our way back to where we’d started from. Still no signage or anything. I figured I’d leap in front of the bus – surely that would stop him?

The darkening skies started to spit, delivering on their gloomy promise which had miraculously stayed dry up to that point. Around the corner came the bus, and I stuck out my arm and it pulled to a halt. As we got on board I asked the driver if this was a stop.

He responded that they operate a “Hail and Ride” system where you hail the bus and he would stop. As long as you were on the correct side of the road. Smiling in apology at catching the bus from the wrong side of the road, we made our way to our seats just as the rains really started in anger.

Happy that we’d made the bus and avoided a three hour wait to the next bus (we’d taken note of the phone number of a taxi driver as a back up so we wouldn’t really have to wait three hours in the rain), we headed back to Portree, only pausing briefly to see to a nasty blister on one of my toes from the walk down the hill.

Rain And Wind. And Rain. And More Wind.

We weren’t able to book a tour the next day, and the weather forecast looked dire. So we booked the tour for the next day instead and hunkered down in the room, watching squall after squall roll over the harbour from the hills beyond. The wind buffered the windows and the rain battered the panes all day and all night. Room service and a bath were the only antidotes!

Tour

Donald from Skye Scenic Tours picked us up and dropped us off after the winter tour – always a time efficient way of seeing a lot of the critical sights.

Carbost: Oyster Shed & Talisker Distillery

The sky was still threatening more rain when we caught the small local bus to Carbost. It was more a mini-van than bus, with three locals bestown with shopping from Co-op getting aboard without paying.

My face dropped when the driver said he only took cash, but this being Skye, the driver said he’d wait as I disappeared to the nearby bank to get cash out of the ATM. A return ticket purchased for each of us, we boarded. The driver asked if we were going to the distillery and we said that yes we would be, but after we’d gone to the Oyster Shed for lunch.

He said he’d drop us off just before the Shed at the top of the hill. We’d checked out the route on Google Street View and thanked him profusely for allowing us to avoid that climb, my legs at least still feeling the results of the trip up the Old Man of Storr.

This bus showed us a different side of life on the Island, the bus driver also delivering mail and helping the passengers on and off the bus with their grocery shopping.

I think that the Oyster Shed is primarily a fish retailer with a kitchen bolted on. You order in the main part of the shop, surrounded by industrial levels of fresh fish of a wide array of assorted species. Ange was particularly enamoured by the crab fridge magnet with the legs which wobbled, only £2.50.

The volume of seafood you get at the Oyster Shed certainly lived up to what we’d seen online – definitely good value for money. The outdoor eating area is only partially roofed, so when the heavens opened I was thankful that Ange had chosen a good barrel to eat at.

By the time we’d finished lunch the rain had blown over, and the walk back down the hill to the Talisker Distillery was a pleasant post meal meander. Though there was no footpath, so I had one ear cocked for traffic behind us.

We’d booked our slot on the Talisker Distillery tour and we had a few minutes before it started so had a look around the exhibition.

Megan did a good job with the tour, answering all our questions and walking through the tasting notes for the three varieties we tasted – the Talisker 10 Year, the Talisker Distiller’s Edition and the Talisker Distillery Exclusive.

Neither Ange nor I wanted to drink the full drams, so I made use of the “Drivers Option” which was a cool little hessian bag with little containers for the scotch, so that you could still have a taste in the Distillery but you could also take the rest home to enjoy there.

The only problem with a bus which only runs twice per day is that if you miss the last one you have an expensive taxi trip or an unexpected overnight stay. As a result we made sure we were at the bus stop in good time.

It also meant that we kept a beady eye on the road above Carbost, starting at each white van sighting, and only worrying a little when the bus was a few minutes late.

Dunvegan

We knew that Dunvegan Castle was closed, but there was walk which started in Dunvegan and went near the castle so we elected to take lunch and jump on yet an other bus to check out Dunvegan and the Two Churches Walk.

We got dropped off at Dunvegan village – the bus continued onto the Castle but that would cut the walk in half and spoil any sense of accomplishment. I did make a point of asking the driver where the return bus stop was.

Opposite the starting point of the walk, Ange found an alpaca wool store, selling knitwear as well as alpaca wool. We’d seen sheep throughout our tours and wanderings – the sheep pretty much left to their own devices, each spray painted a particular colour to indicate ownership, but hadn’t seen any alpacas. Ange bought some wool for her knitting, and then we headed back into the cold for our walk.

The two churches referred to by the walk title were the abandoned ruins of St Mary’s Church and the still-in-use Church of Scotland. The trail lead behind the church and along the hillside in the forest.

The trail was unusual for all the walks we’d done on Skye had been exposed and this one was under the canopy of a mature forest. It was unusual for another reason which became apparent as we proceeded.

Periodically we came across “evidence” of fairies, obvious put in place by school children with named fairy doors either high on trunks or nestled in the roots of the trees along the path. There were also little fairy dolls stuck to branches

The path had little piles of logs alongside it in parts, and someone had cut a little picnic area into some of the logs, trunks being converted into seats and a log having seats spliced into it, looking almost like a seesaw, but surprisingly secure.

The path continued through the forest until stopping at a T intersection. The left hand side path lead to the main road and onto the Dunvegan Castle and Gardens. We headed to the gates just in case they were open, but no, the carpark was empty and the gates resolutely closed.

Just in the background beyond the closed and padlocked gates was the top of a tower from the castle. There were parts of the fence which we could have gotten over, but we thought it best to leave Skye by train rather than in a police van, so we headed back to where the path had split and continued on the official path.

The autumn leaves had left a carpet of dappled colour as the path started to climb to the top of the hill. It was slippery in parts and some areas had exposed rock, but it was all very low key after the various walks we’d already done.

Then we reached a gate which lead to more traditional environment: a track through gorse bushes, the canopy of forest gone now and, beyond the gorse, the brown of the bracken covering the hill sides all the way to the horizon.

It wasn’t too long before the path itself seemed to be a stream, with limited footing which wasn’t actually under an inch or two of water. Deep enough to occasionally seep into your shoes and get your socks wet.

We braved our way through though and towards the end of the path we saw the side branch which took us to the Duirnish stone, a stone raised in the traditional method in 2000 to celebrate the millennium.

Ange checked out if the stone had any “Outlander” magic to take us back to 1743. We paused there for some lunch, sheltering out of the wind behind the stone. Then we headed down the hill to the other, ruined church, which turned out be the burial spot for the clan chiefs of the McLeods.

We still had over an hour before our return bus, so we walked through Dunvegan town and then back to the Dunvegan Inn for a tea or a coffee. They were full, but we waited outside and before long we were invited inside out of the cold and enjoyed a lovely cheese board.

Eilean Donan Castle, Pock & Hector’s Bothy

The next day was our last and so we took the bus back to Kyle. We’d arranged for a taxi driver to meet us to take us to Eilean Donan Castle, the most photographed castle in Scotland according to Brian McFadyen.

Brian was awesome: I thought we’d just get him to take us to the castle (which was closed), we’d take a few photos from the shore and then we’d go back to Kyle.

Instead, Brian dropped us off, told us he’d be back in half an hour, came back, took us to a vantage point across the loch, then took us to the starting point of a secret lookout. Finally he dropped our bags off at a café in Kyle so we wouldn’t have to carry them around to the lookout point. Great service, and great value.

Eilean Donan Castle sits on an island where three lochs meet and has featured in many movies. It’s incredibly picturesque, and for Memorial day was lit up with red floodlights. It would have been something to see!

After commenting on the great weather, Brian took us to the secret lookout up the back of Kyle.

The lookout was reached out by a narrow lane which rose up from water level to a the top of a hill which commanded great views sweeping from Loch Alsh past Kyelakin to the Skye Bridge and around to Badicaul. Well worth the climb.

On the way down, Ange found some wild blackberries growing on the side of the road and tried one.

Then we headed to Hector’s Bothy to meet up with Brian and get our bags and to grab a bite before our train ride home.

On the way home we made sure that we sat on the left hand side of the train. Both Brian and the strange guy we’d talked to at the train station as we waited for the train had both given us that same piece of advice and it was true: the landscape reminded us of British Columbia in Canada in parts with the forest reaching down to the water line.

So we didn’t manage to get into Dunvegan Castle or see the Fairy Pools, but I guess it just gives us another reason to come back to Skye.

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