I’ve come to terms with the fact that I often find myself going against the grain when I travel. Even though being a backpacker and staying in hostels is hardly outside the norm these days, to many vacationers who want nothing more than a “holiday,” the idea of roughing it (hardly!) seems antithetical to the very reason this type of traveler is attempting to “get away from it all” in the first place. But even within the backpacking community, you will find numerous subsets of travelers: there’s the party-hostel animal; the person won’t go anywhere unless it’s “off the beaten path;” the hiker/camper/nature enthusiast; the gap-year youngster who is trying find him or herself amongst others.
And then there’s me. I’m not looking to fill my Instagram feed with some carefully curated photos of sunsets or laze around the hostel common room all day waiting for the next pub crawl or trivia night. I love urban travel and prefer the museums, architecture and art that most cities have to offer over a trek into the wilderness. Even when I do venture out, I would much rather, I don’t know, visit an abandoned former leper colony on an uninhabited island(!) than sip margaritas on a beach.
As soon as I read about Chacachacare, I knew I had to visit, no matter the roadblocks or weird looks my against-the-grain decision would inspire. Earlier in my travels, I may have buckled under the peer pressure to do something “normal,” but I’m a lot more comfortable in my own skin these days and incredulous reactions just don’t phase me anymore. Now, off on an adventure we go!
From Port of Spain to Chaguaramas
Trinidad’s capital is located in the northwest corner of the island; extending 16 km(10 mi) farther west of Port of Spain is the peninsula of Chaguaramas, a weekend sanctuary, providing the residents with a forest, waterfalls, caves and a bevy of beach-soaked islands where they can decompress and lime the day away. Chaguaramas, which comes from the Amerindian word for palm trees, is not officially a part of the capital, but city buses do run up and down Western Main Road, the only thoroughfare leading into and out of the peninsula. Taking public transportation here is easy: simply search for the parking lot full of buses one block south of Independence Square and next to the Museum of the City of Port of Spain. Ask one of the drivers which of buses are headed for Chaguaramas and you’ll end up paying about $1-2 dollars each way. (There are some official bus stops along the route, but it’s better to tell the driver exactly where you want to go and they’ll stop right in front of your destination.)
In 1941, owing to World War II, the British allowed the United States to build an army base on Chaguaramas. This cut off access to the forest and beaches for most Trinidadians, much to their irritation. Although the Americans did improve the infrastructure on the peninsula and create civilian jobs on the base for many locals, tales of racist behavior quickly spread throughout Trinidad. The most common story was that of the “paper bag party,” where a marine stood at the entryway with a brown paper bag and if your skin was darker than the bag, you weren’t allowed in.
In the ensuing decades, not only were citizens in Trinidad & Tobago organizing to oust the British and end colonial rule, but when the US Marines were still operating the base out of Chaguaramas a decade after World War II ended, protestors gathered to bemoan their presence. In 1961, one year before independence, the US handed the base over to the Trinidadian army (who still use it for training exercises to this day), and the peninsula was once again open for the people to enjoy.
Today, much of Chaguaramas has been declared a National Park, including Tucker Valley, a dense forest that is home to several species of monkeys, ocelots, armadillos and other small animals. There are countless marinas along the coast, as well as a recently-built water park and boardwalk halfway into the peninsula. The city buses will take you almost to the tip of Chaguaramas, but guards at the military base will turn you away from continuing down the final stretch of road. That’s ok, because the most popular reason to go to Chaguaramas is to visit the Bocas, a group of small islands stretching out from Trinidad’s mainland towards Venezuela.
The Bocas
When someone in Trinidad says they’re “Going down the islands,” what they literally mean is they’re going to the Bocas, but “Going down the islands” is just as much a mood as a physical place. You’re going to the Bocas, which exist on a higher plane of chill and fun.
These islands are not connected to the mainland by any roads or bridges; you can only reach them by boat. They have low permanent populations, but to own a vacation home on one of the Bocas is a prized possession for many in Port of Spain. The islands are separated by raging channels called Bocas del Dragón, or the Dragon’s Mouth. The four Bocas del Dragón, starting closest to mainland Trinidad, are Boca de Monos, Boca de Huevos, Boca de Navios and finally, spanning the small gap between the last island and Venezuela, Boca Grande.
The first two Bocas, Gaspar Grande (often called Gasparee) and Monos, are the only two connected to Trinidad’s power grid by means of electric lines that run under the channels. After Monos, the islands run on generators only. Gasparee appeared to be the most popular of the Bocas: there are several eco-hotels, spa retreats and restaurants on the island, as well as a spectacular system of semi-underwater caves, a portion of which opened to the public in 1981. The harsh currents of the Bocas del Dragón have acted like an artist’s hands, sculpting the limestone base of Gasparee over the millennia. Blue Grotto is the largest cave, descending 35 m (114 ft) into the island’s base. The National Park Service offers daily tours into the caves (you can’t visit unsupervised).
Monos, the second island after Gasparee, is covered with a thick, dense forest that was once home to a cotton plantation and whale hunting operation. Monos felt like the most residential of the Bocas, but visitors are welcome to enjoy the sandy beaches that can be found there. The third Boca, Huevos, is privately owned and you should probably obtain the necessary permissions before attempting to visit. Of course, there are smaller islands and outcropping throughout the Bocas, like the so-called “Madame Teteron’s Tooth,” but the four main islands are Gasparee, Monos, Huevos and Chacachacare, the last of which was why I was drawn to the Bocas in the first place.
Going Against the Grain to Chacachacare
Visiting Trinidad & Tobago in and of itself is not really “going against the grain.” The two islands see plenty of vacationers who are looking to soak up the sun at resorts and luxury hotels in both destinations. To the “average” tourist, being a backpacker (not necessarily a hiker/camper, but someone who only travels with a backpack) and staying in hostels might feel like a punishing way to travel, but there are countless backpackers who travel all over the world every year, COVID notwithstanding. Being a backpacker in the Caribbean is going against the grain. You’re more likely to find this type of traveler in Amsterdam or Bangkok, but it’s not unheard of to meet a backpacker here, especially if they’re attempting to visit every country in the world. But going to Trinidad & Tobago and only staying in Port of Spain and Scarborough, respectively, is probably going to raise a few eyebrows. There is nary an all-inclusive resort in either capital and despite the cultural offerings in both cities, they don’t see an influx of tourists during a typical year.
So here I am, a backpacker in Port of Spain, who has spent my time visiting museums and checking out the local architecture, when I announce to my host that I want to visit the Bocas. “Oh, you’ll love Gasparee,” she said. “The caves are lovely.” (Beat) “Well, I was thinking about bypassing Gasparee and visiting Chacachacare instead,” I hesitantly put forth. “Really? Well that won’t be easy and it won’t be cheap. You might not even find someone willing to take you out there. Best to see if your cab driver knows someone with a boat in the area,” she replied. “Oh, I’m not planning on taking a cab. I’m excited to try out the public buses!” Realizing that she was dealing with a truly crazy person, she simply instructed me to tell the bus driver I wanted to be left off at the Island Property Owner’s Association Marina and wished me luck.
The bus ride there was a breeze and everyone was chatting me up as we made our way deeper into Chaguaramas. They too were surprised I wanted to go to Chacachacare (no one in the bus had been out there before), but they were happy to hear how much I had been enjoying Port of Spain.
When I got to the marina, I approached the information window and the woman working asked me if I was looking to see the caves on Gasparee or go to the beach on Monos. (A bus load of British tourists from an all-inclusive elsewhere on the island had just arrived for a tour of Gasparee and she indicated that I could join their group.) “Actually, I was wondering if it would be possible to visit Chacachacare,” I said with a hopeful smile. There I was, going against the grain again. She gave me a look as if to say, there’s always one. There’s always that one person who just can’t be easy and go see the caves.
I knew ahead of time that a trip to Chacachacare would cost a pretty penny- I was estimating US$100 for someone to take me there and back. (Lonely Planet recommends a tour company who can arrange an expedition to the island, and when I emailed them, they quoted me a price of $400!) But it’s not just about the price. You first have to find someone even willing to go out there. Remember how the channels between the islands are called Bocas del Dragón? Well, dragons aren’t exactly known for being cuddly and cute on account of all that fire coming out of their nostrils! The channels are indeed choppy and rough, and the farther out you go towards Venezuela, the choppier and rougher each channel becomes. It’s not uncommon to see dolphins in any of the Bocas del Dragón, but the channels around Chacachacare are also home to some pretty nasty sharks as well. If your boat capsizes and the currents don’t drag you under, Jaws just might come along and finish you off.
After asking several boat owners, I finally met John, a grizzled older gentleman with a smile that revealed a few missing teeth and a Trinidadian accent so thick, it took my ear a good 10 minutes to become acclimated to it. I instantly liked John and he agreed to take me out to Chacachacare in his little green motorboat for US$80 (a bargain), telling me I could explore the island as long as I wished. It turned out John was born in Chaguaramas and had lived his whole life either on the peninsula or one of the Bocas. He knew every story Chacachacare had to tell, and I made for an avid audience member. John told me to hold on tight as we began the 30-minute journey from the marina to the ghost-filled, completely-abandoned former leper colony on Chacachacare.
The Leper Colony
The boat ride to Chacachacare was as advertised. Each time John’s boat crested over a wave, the tiny vessel was sent airborne, suspended in midair for what seemed like an eternity before slamming back down into the water once again. I didn’t necessarily think I was going to die, but I started to second guess my decision not to take the quick five-minute ferry ride over to Gasparee! Chacachacare is shaped like a horseshoe, and luckily the enclosed bay created by the island’s prong-shaped sides is refreshingly docile and serene.
Our first stop was Sander’s Bay, home to the doctor’s office where all patient records were stored and the intake of new patients was performed. But before I start talking about the current state of the leper colony on Chacachacare, let’s go back to why the hospital was built here in the first place. In the mid-19th Century, a strain of leprosy began spreading through colonial Port of Spain. In 1845, the 300th patient was diagnosed and the British feared an epidemic would overtake the capital. An order of French Dominican nuns was tasked with caring for those afflicted with the disease in an institution on the mainland.
The nuns arrived in 1868 and after two years they approached the government, asking for a medical complex in a more isolated area. Leprosy is highly contagious and although the patients had not committed any crimes, they were confined in rather prison-like conditions. Some would escape and ultimately would infect more people in the general population. The British set their sights on Chacachacare, the largest and farthest Boca from the mainland. The name is believed to have come from chac-chac, the Amerindian word for cotton; Spanish families established cotton plantations on the island as far back as 1807.
Construction of the leper colony began in 1870, but the work was challenging and the facilities were not completed until 1922. The nuns did not tell any of the patients about Chacachacare for fear it would cause a revolt. The night before everyone was transferred, the police surrounded the hospital and escorted each patient onto a boat that would take them to an island they would never leave for the rest of their lives. The nuns also knew they would be condemned to this same fate of hard work and permanent isolation.
The nuns were strict and ran a tight ship. During the first few decades of the institution’s history, male and female patients were forbidden from commingling. When the ban was lifted, if a female patient became pregnant, the baby was instantly taken from the mother upon giving birth and placed in an orphanage on the mainland. During World War II, one thousand US Marines built barracks on Chacachacare and brought with them massive generators. This was the first time Chacachacare had a power source and conditions at the leper colony increased tremendously.
By 1950, the nuns were experiencing a recruitment problem. Fewer and fewer women worldwide were joining nunneries, but you can imagine that those willing to sign up to work at leper colony for the rest of their days were few and far between. After over eighty years of running caring for patients in Trinidad, the Dominican nuns turned over the keys to the facilities on Chacachacare to the state, putting local nurses and doctors in charge of their wards. Treatments for leprosy greatly improved during the 197os and by the early 80’s the disease had practically been cured. The colony closed its doors in 1984, as the final eight patients and remaining staff returned to the mainland for good.
A lighthouse had been erected on Chacachacare back in 1870 and at the time of colony’s abandonment, two brothers were in charge of keeping the lighthouse running. They became Chacachacare’s sole inhabitants until the lighthouse’s services were no longer required and they too left the island around 2010. Two of the Dominican nuns contracted leprosy while performing their duties on the island; one of them was so tortured by the disfigurement that she committed suicide. Her ghost is said to be the only remaining being left on Chacachacare today.
A Ruined Past
There has been much talk about what to do with Chacachacare in the present day. Preservationists want to turn the crumbling structures into a living museum, documenting what happened on the island for so many decades. Others have suggested tearing down the old buildings and developing vacation homes and hotels like they have on Gasparee and Monos. At one point, Donald Trump offered to buy the island, flatten it and construct a gaudy casino attached to an all-inclusive resort, but this was swiftly shot down.
One thing to be very aware of are the manchineel trees that surround the island. Not only is the fruit extremely poisonous, but the sap that oozes down the branches can cause death as well. As legend has it, once during a rainstorm, some early Spanish colonists sheltered under a manchineel tree, but their would-be protector turned out to be a killer. The water droplets caused the sap to fall on their skin, burning the flesh and poisoning them instantly.
La Tinta Beach
John told me that he does encounter locals looking to get away from it all asking to be dropped off at Chacachacare on a Friday night with their camping gear in tow. They usually crash at La Tinta Beach, named for its inky-colored sand, before requesting to be picked up again on Sunday afternoon. Without electricity, WiFi or running water, it is a place where you can escape modern life and reconnect with nature.
A mere 11 km(7 mi) away is Venezuela, which I was easily able to see on this clear day. How often do you get to stand on one continent and see a different continent on the horizon?! North and South America- separated by a tiny stretch of sea. Even John, who no doubt has looked out at the mountains in the distance thousands of times in his lifetime, stood in silent awe with me for a few minutes before we moved on.
St. Catherine’s Church
On the other side of the horseshoe, across from the infirmary and intake station, sits St. Catherine’s Church, the nuns’ quarters and a cemetery where the sisters were buried. It is here that the ghost of nun who committed suicide most often appears and John refused to even get out of the boat to show me around. He told me to take all the time I wanted, but he was eager to remain as far away as possible from the chapel and cemetery. I would have to complete this last leg of my journey alone.
The leper colony was quite a large complex at its height. There was a hospital, infirmary, housing for the patients, nuns and medical staff, a sports center, a cinema and even a jail. All food and supplies had to be transported from the mainland by boat, including fuel for the generators. John makes a living not only by taking visitors like me to the Bocas, but by making grocery runs for people living on Gasparee, Monos and Huevos.
In 1993, several historians were exploring the island when they unearthed a buried crate of diaries written by the nuns (in French), dating back to their earliest days on the island. The writings were published and revealed every hardship they endured living on Chacachacare. Some have been quick to criticize the decision to isolate the patients on the island for what was essentially a life sentence under questionable living conditions, but the diaries portray the nuns as absolutely devoted to providing the best care possible and much sympathy was cultivated in the public eye for their suffering as well.
Goodbye to Port of Spain
Perhaps it was fitting that Chacachacare brought me so close to Venezuela, as the following day I was to take a flight to Georgetown, the capital of Guyana, which would mark my first time stepping foot in South America. I had originally approached my trip to Trinidad & Tobago with trepidation. I bought into the travel industry’s propaganda that the only things one could do in the Caribbean were to stay at all-inclusive resorts and while away the hours on the beach or in a mud mask at the spa. I lacked faith in the destination, but I also doubted myself. Did I really believe I wouldn’t find a way to go against the grain in Scarborough and Port of Spain? There is so much to see and do in each capital city, but even if there weren’t, I should have never doubted my ability to march to the beat of my own drummer.
I’m sure the caves on Gasparee would have been perfectly lovely, but visiting Chacachacare and the former leper colony with John was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I will never be able to replicate anywhere else in the world. Don’t be afraid to do the different of weird thing on your travels. If everyone is going to the beach, don’t be afraid to check out the modern art museum. If everyone is eating at McDonald’s, don’t be afraid to to take a chance on the hole-in-the-wall cafe. If everyone else at the hostel is staying out late on a pub crawl, don’t be afraid to go to bed early and wake up for a sunrise walk through the empty streets of a city. If everyone is going to Gasparee, don’t be afraid to say take me across the raging channels, through shark-infested waters to an island with fatally poisonous trees to visit a leper colony haunted by the tortured soul of a Dominican nun.
As cliche as this quote has become, Robert Frost was really onto something when he wrote:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
