Sittin' on the Dock of a Bay

Sittin’ on the dock of a bay, wasting time...as the song goes.   

To me the time wasn’t wasted at all, but a sheer delight as I dangled my bare feet in the warm waters of English Harbour in Antigua, sat on a wooden stump on a rickety jetty in Nelson’s Dockyard.

Antigua is an island of a great many beautiful sights, from calm pristine white sand beaches, to rocky green covered cliffs with the Atlantic Ocean pounding against them.   

English Harbour on the south coast of the island, is one of the more scenic spots; a haven of beauty and calm well away from any of the resort complexes. 

Before my dock of a bay feet dangling moment, our friendly and highly informative taxi driver taking us there from our own rather delightful resort complex, takes on the role of tour guide for the duration of our little jaunt, as is the way with taxi drivers in the Caribbean.

For a fixed standard fare he would not only take us to Nelson’s Dockyard and back (all that we had originally asked for), but also offered to take us up to the Shirley Heights look out first.  Shirley Heights, as the name suggests, is high up (in Antiguan terms) and stares down the barrel of a cannon towards Guadeloupe and the French to the south.

Its job in days gone by was to protect the adjacent harbour where the British Navy had their Caribbean base to carry out running repairs.  Nowadays it provides a terrific view, not so much of a hazy Guadeloupe hiding on the horizon, but of English Harbour a delightfully picturesque natural harbour below.  It also provides a great view of Eric Clapton’s house funnily enough, and on a Sunday it provides copious amounts of rum punch and Soca music, but that’s another story altogether.

Our taxi driving tour guide regales us with all sorts of historical highlights as we stop off for a wander around the most scenic spots.  Then after a rapid descent to sea level we reach Nelson’s Dockyard, named after you know who of course, and the most obvious colonial relic remaining in Antigua.

In the heat of early afternoon it makes for a quiet and calm location for a wander through the restored dockyard buildings along the harbour, with numerous large wooden wheels for some poor souls to push round and round to raise a ship’s hull from the water in days gone by.

Wandering through a few small but interesting museums and on around the bay we reach the aforementioned wooden jetty with my wooden stump seat and soon enough I am sittin’ on the dock of a bay.  Rather than watching the ships roll in, and roll away again, I dangle my feet and watch the large beaked birds dive bombing the harbour water for a fishy feast, soak up some sun, and commit the moment to memory.