By Ted Alan Stedman
I’ve logged plenty of hours in remote, rustic lodges where the nearest hot shower and cold beer were in the next time zone. Rugged adventure travel? Sure, bring it on. But I’m nobody’s fool when a cushy Caribbean vacation comes my way, like a recent guy’s trip to the Marriott St. Kitts Royal Beach Resort in the British West Indies.
The plan was to savor a chic seaside playground with a world-class golf course, the Eastern Caribbean’s largest casino, eight on-site restaurants and a palm-fringed pool with a swim-up bar resembling a blue lagoon. We’d mix it up with a handful of outdoor-inspired activities to stay honest, not to mention whatever else this 68-square-mile island had in store.
So I did.
St. Kitts is the larger, more commercial partner in the twin island nation known as the Federation of St. Kitts and Nevis. Where Nevis is known for its mellow demure, Kitts has a more zesty reputation thanks in large part to the Marriott St. Kitts Royal Beach Resort, the island’s only mega resort.
No bones about it, this resort is huge — and well-appointed: 513 guest rooms and suites, brilliant freshwater pools, Jacuzzis, an expansive beach lined with chaise lounges, a 35,000-square-foot Vegas-style casino and an 18-hole golf course with holes on both the Atlantic and Caribbean.
Our gang got rolling the first night in the Royal Beach Casino, a 24/7 Vegas-style joint with 34 gaming tables and bets ranging from $5 to $5,000 a pop. We learned the ropes from patient dealers on card games like Texas Hold ‘em before migrating to some of the 350 one-arm bandits that lured us like moths to flames. As the night wore on we shuffled down to Mr. X’s Shiggidy Shack Bar & Grill for its signature lobster dinners and potent swizzle stick drinks, served al fresco beneath a starry Caribbean night.
When our ATV tour was rained out the next day, we opted for some jet skiing through David’s Watersports, just a coconut’s throw from our resort. If you’ve ridden during choppy conditions you know the score. If you haven’t, picture hitting end-to-end speed bumps at 40 mph and you’ll get a feel for the idea. Being a guy’s trip, a little pain is allowed if not expected.
Sometime after that fun madness we did a short drive to Brimstone Hill Fortress National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The British mounted their first cannons here in 1690 to fight French and other colonial powers (a common Caribbean theme). I’m all over learning about battles and of soldiers’ lives. But what sweetened this deal for this shutterbug was some of the most spectacular see-forever panoramas on all of St. Kitts.
We made good on the compulsory visit to the Reggae Beach Bar & Grill at Cockleshell Bay, a to-die-for beach that’s the prettiest I saw on St. Kitts. The Margaritaville state of mind here is undeniable; after a few cold ones we felt like a bunch of Parrotheads waiting for the next Jimmy Buffett concert. One more thing: don’t freak at the 500-pound pig frolicking in the water. That’s Wilbert, the bar’s mascot who loves bananas, beer and people — in that order.
A golfer I’m not, but my buddies raved about the Royal St. Kitts Golf Club, an 18-hole "links-style" course sporting 83 sand bunkers, 12 lakes and tees on both the Caribbean and Atlantic. And they also talked up the resort’s 15,000-square-foot Emerald Mist Spa. Body wraps, therapeutic treatments, Jacuzzi sessions –- all the possible pampering is just a few steps from your suite. Meanwhile, I trolled the streets of Basseterre with my camera, taking in its colorful Caribbean architecture and spending time meandering Independence Square, a memorial to the plight of African slaves.
Over the final couple days of our guy’s Caribbean vacation, we kayaked with Turtle Tours Kayaking along St. Kitts’ southeastern peninsula, gawking at rainbow-colored fish and an eagle ray that hovered beneath our boats. On our last evening we booked a catamaran charter through Blue Water Safaris and watched a liquid gold sunset while the hyperactive bartender-DJ refused to let our group sit idle. I think it was later that night that our hotel hosted a beach party, complete with a couple bands and a roaring fire pit. There were bottomless drinks and all the lobster we could eat, too.
So I did.
Here are a few photos:
Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.
Related Orbitz resources:
By ski, bike, kayak, safari vehicle and on foot, Ted
Alan Stedman has journeyed in six continents and hopes to soon close in on
number seven: Antarctica. The Dever-based writer is a formerski journalist for the Rocky Mountain News, and these days
is a regular contributor to Sport
Diver, Islands,
Sunset, Outside and Outdoor Photographer
magazines.
