Breaking Virgin Territory

On his second voyage to the New World in 1493, Christopher Columbus sailed into a special corner of the Caribbean. Just east of Puerto Rico, he

discovered dozens of pristine islands so many that his

imagination ran riot and he named them Santa Ursula y Las Once Mil Las Virgenes, in

honour of St Ursula and her 11,000 martyred virgins. Today, the British Virgin Islands (BVI) are the Caribbean sailing capital, and are home to high-end resorts and luxury villas.

I arrived at 10pm and was taken on a short bus ride from the airport to the dock at Trellis Bay, where Captain Blondie was waiting to take me on his launch to the upscale Biras Creek resort on Virgin Gorda the third largest of the BVI. The ride through the magnificent Sir Francis Drake Channel took us past most of the islands, which loomed out of the water on both sides as we sped effortlessly by.

Gazing at the stars in a

spectacular night sky, I imagined the ghosts of the real pirates of the Caribbean, whose treasure ships have now been replaced by millionaires’ yachts.

I arrived 30 minutes later at Biras Creek’s private dock, where passing sailors can stop off to peruse the restaurant menu. The full splendour of the location was revealed next morning as I awoke in my detached garden suite with living room, veranda and outdoor shower. The property extends across 140 acres and the 31 suites are located along Berchers Bay on the Atlantic side of the island.

Bicycles are provided to help you get down to the private beach through

landscaped

gardens filled with wild nutmeg, frangipani, wild orchids and Turk’s head cacti. I opted to stroll to the resort’s central complex, where meals are served in the Castle, overlooking the serene turquoise waters of the North Sound.

My favourite location on the estate was the marina, where guests can board a Boston whaler and tootle across the protected waters of the Sound. Here I met chief marine engineer Allie originally from Stornaway who took me down to the relaxed Fat Virgin Cafe, where you can lunch on flying fish sandwiches or conch fritters and watch pelicans diving for food.

Allie fancied a break, so he summoned his colleague, Tom. “Do you have the keys to the Ferrari?” he enquired. Thus

followed a white-knuckle motorboat ride as we bounced all the way from Virgin Gorda past $30m yachts moored in the sound across to Leverick Bay, with its waterside buildings painted in vivid violet and red. Then it was on to private islands such as Eustatia and Necker Sir Richard Branson’s luxury resort.

We docked at Prickly Pear island, home to the Sand Box Beach Bar. Here the staff can mix you a BBC (that’s Baileys, banana rum and coco loco) and you can sip it under a parasol on the powder-white beach. It is now officially my favourite watering hole on the planet.

I was due back at Biras for a beach barbecue lunch so we reluctantly departed. After feasting on chicken and

mackerel, I chatted to a smiling San Franciscan called Carl, who said he had worked up an appetite that morning by playing a game of tennis, hiking around the island and snorkelling in the North Sound. Sadly, I never made it back to the Sand Box. Captain Blondie arrived to ferry me back to Beef Island airport at the break of dawn. As I watched the sky thaw to pink, the tropical playground below looked heart-breakingly idyllic. No wonder Columbus was swept away by pious fervour.

(c) 2006 Sunday Business; London (UK). Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning. All rights Reserved.