The road less travelled

9th June 2025

This journey that I am on, is new to me. In the process of clearing out my parents’ house, our family home for over 40yrs, I am unearthing history. My history. A lot of history. It’s a tough job but what amazing history. They kept everything. I have had this blog post in me for months, mulling it over, changing the focus and tone, procrastinating but knowing really what I wanted to say. History is amazing and when it’s your own history, it’s heritage that you sort of know. Stories have been told, and retold, time has blurred the edges. You sort of know but I’m finding that as the details emerge it’s a confirmation that’s reassuring. Deep I know … but special too.

Back in March, before the last of the VIPs arrived in Pollards, Richard and I used up some expiring loyalty points and had a mini-break staycation on the magical east coast of Barbados. It was here that my parents returned to the Caribbean to spend their retirement winters, it was here on the magnificent Cattlewash beach some … eeerrmmmm … little time ago … that someone got infected by the “Barbados bug” and completely unplanned dropped onto a sandy knee and proposed. The east coast has always been special to us. It is wild, rugged, authentic and beautiful, massive crashing waves, long empty beaches, lush green gullies and huge trees, my favourite of these is the ubiquitous majestic breadfruit. Most tourists to Barbados don’t come this way but if they do it’s on an island tour or shooting through on a day trip.

So on a road trip east we head off on our mini break. From Pollards heading North it’s only 10minutes to Codrington College. A beautiful ecclesiastical college and my great grandfather’s Alma Mater.

Perched on the cliff overlooking the Atlantic and approached down an avenue of majestic Royal palms, the setting is incredible. The college was rebuilt after a hurricane in 1831 and is one of the oldest theological colleges in the western hemisphere. The grounds are so peaceful, fronted by a huge lake teeming with fish all busy hiding from the herons. I have always been proud to tell people that my ‘Bumpa’ had trained here but it was amazing to find evidence of this, in the stack of letters in my father’s stamp collection. The unanswered question is: who was writing to him from Trinidad in (we think) 1905?

Onward we go, leaving Codrington, the road is decidedly dodgy, much pitted with huge potholes, the odd mongoose racing across the road in front of you, usually a monkey or two and always the potential of the sea poking out between the wild tropical bush. We decline the inviting road down to Martins Bay and its Thursday local fish fry, not because it’s Friday but because next stop is Bathsheba. This is where my great grandparents came on holiday sending the cow and the chickens on a few days ahead of them so they still had milk and eggs on their summer break. We turn the corner past Andromeda botanical gardens and start the steep descent into Bathsheba; the view is breathtaking. We forgo a cold drink at the Sea View bar (but reserve the right to return at sunset) and turn right towards Tent Bay to check into the historic Atlantis hotel.

The Atlantis was one of the first hotels to exist on the East coast and remains one of very few on this coast. It’s off the beaten track. Literally… as it was because of the new railway that was built in 1883 that made access to this part of the island possible on something other than horse and cart. I recall my grandmother praising the Sunday buffet at the Atlantis … “you must try the Pepperpot” she would say. My parents, grandparents and great grandparents used to come to the Atlantis.

We wander back to the Sea View bar for sundowners after we have checked in. No need to explain why!!! The majestic breadfruit framing the glow

We fall asleep to the sound of the sea. When we wake a fine film of salt is under our feet on the floors … deposited overnight on the night breeze. The wildness is wonderful but imagine having to deal with that daily… salt on your washing as it dries. Word on the street is your bra’s underwires rust in a couple of weeks!!!

After two very relaxing nights at the Atlantis we head home along the East coast stopping at Cattlewash to re-examine ‘X marks the spot’, the site of our betrothal and once more worship at the magnificence of this beach. Miles of beach, empty.

From the East coast doing a big loop west to head home we pass further landmarks in my heritage, All Saints Church where my Grandmother was married, the vicarage where they lived and then the Church in St Peter’s Speightstown. A final dip in the the sea and we head home to our own haven of peace and wildness.

Nothing in Barbados is very far away, but in some ways the road we travelled is a world apart from the beautiful quintessentially Caribbean, white sand, coconut palmed, beaches of the West coast. It’s understandable why people flock to the west and south coasts for their 2 week holidays. Wall to wall, stunning, warm tropical waters and restaurants, beach bars and food shacks to suit every taste and budget. However we prefer this road, the road less travelled…