Today is

By: Ikedi Ani-okoye

Escapism on a real desert island

In 1964 Haze Richardson was sailing the Caribbean in his schooner Jacinta when he discovered paradise. Despite having no intention of settling down, this young adventurer fell in love with Petit St. Vincent, an uninhabited, palm-fringed island in the Grenadines. Having purchased the one hundred and thirteen acre isle, he and his wife Lyn set about creating an exclusive, sumptuous private hideaway. Of course, these adjectives could apply to many a Caribbean resort, but Petit St.Vincent (PSV) is truly unique. And, as I discovered, its unparalleled charms derive entirely from the Richardsons' attention to deter and philosophy of tranquillity.

Arriving on neighbouring Union Island, we're met by the captain of PSV's sleek private motor launch, which transports us towards our destination. On the approach, we savour our first glimpse of PSV's promising Robinson Crusoe landscape: deserted white sable beaches fringed with luxuriant greenery and lapped by a pellucid peppermint sea. At the jetty we're greeted by four languid yellow Labradors who wag a welcome and Lynn Richardson bearing a pair of pina coladas. "Haze and I are having an informal cocktail party tonight at our house. We'd love to see you there", she says, before climbing onto a yellow scooter which coordinates perfectly with her tropical print frock.

We're driven up a winding road lined with exotic shrubs to our cottage in one of due island's numerous open vehicles. l know die island has only 22 detached and secluded cottages. Some are situates on the beach whilst others, like ours, are set on or into the cliff. I have also read that they are built from stone quarried on ihc island and have been designed to the highest specification.

Yet none of this can prepare us for fhe operatic impact of our accommodation. Erected high on a cliff, it boasts too terraces, one of which overlooks a brace of beaches, views bisected by a verdant hill and the other an infinite, sun-soaked ocean panorama. An inviting hammock suspended in the shade of this capacious terrace has been perfectly sited for maximum perspective.

Below the waves beat soporific timpani on the beach, whilst a cooling zephyr drifts constantly through the interior.

And this open plan interior, with its wraparound windows and commodiously-appointed lounge area, features a bedroom where two exquisitely cormfortable queen-sized beds are positioned to maximise views of the sunrise. As well as the bath robes, mountains of towels and baskets of goodies including everything from body lotion to washing pounder, the cottage boasts thoughtful additions such as beach bags, sand shoes, ready-stamped postcards, books devoted to local flora and fauna and a CD player.

The latter, however, is the only form of contemporary in-house entertainment.
Haze and Lynn have deliberately created a domain free from telephones, computers and televisions. Being an eco-frenzy island, here is no whirring fridge, but a cheerful member of' staff refills an icebox beside the drinks trolIIey on a daily basis. And if room service (which includes anything from meals to cocktails) is required, simply fill out a request form, post it in a bamboo tube and raise a yellow flag on the bamboo pole outside the cottage. Within half an hour all wishes will be granted. Raise the red flag, however, and total privacy is assured. it's slightly whacky but it's fun and we soon fall into the swing of this eccentric mode of communication.

The island's allure is concentrated on the natural landscape, which has been sensitively manicured with seclusion in mind. On the beach a series of Shorefront Hideaways, comprising comfy lounges shaded by a thatched cabana, two chairs and a table with iced drinking water, are totally isolated from each other by areas of lush foliage. The room service flag system also operates here and meals can be served either on the beach or in the restaurant pavilion, where the gourmet dishes feature fruits, herbs and vegetables grown on the island's farm.

The dinner menus offer freshly-caught fish and lobster is regularly available. Apart From a barbecue, where a dreadlocked steel band inspires barefoot dancing on the beach, and cocktail parties hosted by the Richardsons and Jeff Stevens,
captain of the resident 75ft charter yacht Jambalaya, entertainment is homespun. Yet the relaxed nature of the island encourages easy conversation with the other guests and we are soon making friends.

Together with new chums we embark on an expedition to the Tobago Cays wish Captain Chester Belmar on his 28ft speed Boat Jahash. These ravishing islands are famed for their underwater life and Jahash's shallow draft means we can anchor and snorkel in more secluded locations.

Amidst the iridescent, kaleidoscopic species occupying this captivating coral landscape, I am entranced by an elaborate shoal of around fifty blue tang. With adults spearheading the advance, juniors in between and babies following up the rear, these families shimmer blue to purple to near black as they weave amidst the coral like undulating silk. in another location, I hover above a nurse shark supine on the sea bed and shaded by a vast head of brain coral.

For a grand finale, the captain cruises to PetitTabac, the most inaccessible island on the Cays, where the deserted crescent-shaped beach is littered smith conch shells, known locally as the mermaid's mobile phone.

Although there is plenty of potential action on PSV, I soon attain a nirvana of indolence. Apart from cruises on speedy Jahash or the more sedate Jambalaya, I could explore the coastline in the hotel's glass bottom kayaks, hike up the hill between Banyan and Frangipani trees, work out along the eco-Friendly fitness trail with over twenty exercise stations or play tennis on the flood-lit court. But having perfected the art of inertia, it was all I could do to book a massage, expertly executed on our terrace by Lisa, who emigrated here From Southampton. So when my companion suggests we take a trip to Petit St. Richardson, a tiny island just off the coast of PSV, it sounds rather too much of a physical challenge.

Unlike PSV, Petit St. Richardson has no comfy chaises and no flag system to summon refreshments. In fact, the only thing on this tiny disc of sand is a thatched beach umbrella. However, finally I can't resist a once in a lifetime chance to play Desert Island Discs for real and eventually concede. Ken, a member of the water sports team, whisks us to the island in a speed boat and leaves us there with what any sensible castaway would request as a luxury - a gourmet picnic, complete wifh fine wine, china and linen.

As we feast, a grey shape appears on the horizon and slowly metamorphoses into a stately five-masted yacht in full sail. lt holds station for some minutes before sailing serenely onward. The scene is a reminder of those pioneering days when the Caribbean islands were discovered by Columbus. l suspect that the panorama he saw was not so different to that which captivated Haze Richardson over forty years ago. And it is thanks to this man's passion that we can share his island paradise and enjoy life Haze's way.