There’s a particular rhythm to islands – and I’m addicted to the laid-back way of life that these isles always seem to have.
For most visitors to the Dominican Republic, the resort hotels have enough distractions, but for a few, its a worthy visit from La Romana, Bavaro or Punta Cana to take a daytrip to Isla Saona. Charted by explorer Christopher Columbus, the island was named in homage to Savona, Italy.
Found on the southeast coast of the island of Hispaniola, home to Haiti and Dominican Republic, Isla Saona is part of the Parque Nacional del Este, a protected nature reserve. Isla Saona’s human inhabitants number less than 300, with visitors arriving daily by boat or catamaran – at night the 100 square kilometre island is more wildlife than people.
Taking the boat from the mainland harbour, the first stop is about 20 minutes later, and a kilometre off shore of the Parque Nacional del Este. The ocean is clear pale blue, and the sandy bottom is less than than 1.5 metres deep. The occasional small fish may dart by, but the calm warm ocean beckons in this protected cove, called a natural swimming pool by the guides.
The salt water enables anyone to become buoyant and float on the gentle sea – and for those who are more energetic, you could easily walk to shore. Then there’s a discovery – a starfish – held up for all of us to admire for a few minutes. Soon after, the trip continues another 15 minutes on the boat to Isla Saona.
Numerous palm trees provide shade to the picnic tables and palapas that line the edge of the beach. Everyone claims a table for their stuff, while the locals quickly encourage having a cerveza at a thatched roof bar or getting a massage with a sea view before lunch is served.
One man wanders amongst the visitors with a tray of lobsters, ready for their time on the grill if someone decides to ante up extra money for one of the spiny creatures, pulled out of the sea that morning.
I begin to walk the shoreline and then spot the man I’m looking for: the guy who has a wheelbarrow filled with coconuts and machete to cut them. Soon I’m sipping on fresh coco water, aka coconut juice, my perfect accompaniment to a day at the beach.
Lunch is served – fresh grilled steak, chicken and fish, fresh fruit, beans and rice and salads. Once everyone has eaten, voices fade to whispers, and the volleyball and revelry disappear. Some people find a quiet spot under a palm tree, some wander the shoreline and some float in the water, happy to let the ocean keep them cool under the relentless rays of an afternoon sun.
I choose to swim and float in the sea, looking up at the sky. I see dark clouds in the distance, but I’m too lethargic to really think much about it. I decide to spend my time wandering the shoreline looking at the numerous shells that the waves have thrown on to the beach.
I know the sea shells must stay here since its a protected reserve and not be collected but I’m almost tempted by the numerous unique shapes of white, coral and gray shells.
We’re given the call to gather our stuff and head to the boats. The small groups of vacationers are all walking slow, tired after exposure to the sun and sea.
A large catamaran will take us back to the main harbour on the mainland, a relaxed journey peppered with salsa music and voices in several different languages telling stories. I cast a farewell glance to this isolated spot, happy to have gotten my infusion of island time.