Legend has it in the Cayman Islands that kissing a stingray will bring a person seven years of good luck. It was February 23, 2007 when I found myself bobbing in the gentle swells at Stingray City, hanging onto a life-ring with my right hand and puckering up to kiss the soft belly of one of my favorite sea creatures. I'd come to Grand Cayman with my neighbor Sherry. The lure of Stingray City and the world-class diving in the Caymans made this three-island archipelago (Grand Cayman, Little Cayman, and Cayman Brac) a winning choice for a break from another cold, dark, mid-Atlantic winter.
In addition to their notoriety as a diving mecca, the Cayman Islands are known for their high standard of living, the banking and financial industry, spectacular beaches, outstanding restaurants, and the overwhelming devastation caused by Hurricane Ivan in September, 2004. Two easy flights (Washington National to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Grand Cayman) had us on the island within six hours of leaving home, so by lunchtime we had shed our fleece jackets and gloves and were dining al fresco at the Grand Cayman Marriott Beach Resort's Sol Bar. Located in the heart of Seven Mile Beach, the Marriott provided a clean, comfortable hotel that was wheelchair accessible and allowed us to walk / roll to nearby shops and restaurants. Multiple options for on-site dining, a freshwater swimming pool, its beach location, and the usual list of resort services rounded out the Marriott's requisite list of amenities.
Our first full day on the island was spent on the beach in the morning, exploring the downtown area of George Town - the capital city of the Caymans and a very busy port of call for cruise ships - in the afternoon, and catching a cab to Hemingway's, an acclaimed restaurant in the Hyatt Regency hotel, where we enjoyed another outdoor dinner while watching the sun set over the Caribbean. It was hard to imagine life could get much better than it was that night, especially as we recalled that our friends and families in northern Virginia were still dealing with the aftermath of a Valentine's Day storm that left them buried under winter's dreaded trifecta - sleet, snow, and freezing rain.
Although we had spent a few hours on the beach since arriving on Grand Cayman, most of our excursions during the first few days had occurred on land, and by Thursday I was more than ready to get into the water. We'd booked a snorkeling trip with Captain Marvin's (www.captainmarvins.com) for that afternoon, and after being picked up at the hotel and loaded into a van, we were off to the boat and the first of our three stops - Coral Garden. With one end of a rope tethered to the boat and a life-ring attached to the other end, I was helped into the water and told to hold onto the ring with my right hand. Floating behind the anchored boat, I let the waves and the current direct my body. I watched small fish swim below me, enjoying the serenity while anticipating what I would see at Stingray City.
In the 1920s, when Captain Marvin Ebanks was a young boy who fished with his father, custom dictated that they stop at a shallow sand bar in Grand Cayman's North Sound to clean their catch. The fishermen noticed that stingrays would congregate around their boats to eat the fish scraps that were tossed into the water. Nearly a century later, the same site draws tourists from all over the world who long to interact with the playful rays in their natural habitat. I could see as we approached that there were already three boats, a crowd of people, and too many dark spots (the rays swimming) in the water to count.
With everyone off the boat and the line and ring once again attached, I was helped into the water. I held the ring in my right hand while using my left to try to touch the rays swimming below me, but each time I reached for one, a wave rolled in and lifted me away from my target. Everyone standing in the water also had the ability to reach down and touch a stingray, or feel it as it swam by and brushed against a leg. Having neither function or sensation in much of my body made this a strictly visual - and somewhat disappointing - experience until one of the rays seemed to realize my plight and swam up so I could briefly touch his back. It was a magical moment, and if there were a way for me to express gratitude to that particular stingray, I would most certainly have done it. At the end of our stop at Stingray City, while all of the other patrons returned to the boat, one of Captain Marvin's crew members brought a ray up to me so I could touch it. The ray's back was soft and smooth like velvet, his belly like a wet mushroom. And when I learned that kissing the critter would bring me seven years of good luck, I didn't hesitate to improve my fortune. Who can't use a little good luck?
Although we ate at several fine restaurants during our stay on the island, my favorite meal came from a renowned beach shack called The Wreck Bar and Grill. No vacation on Grand Cayman is complete without a day-trip to the north side of the island's Rum Point, a blissful place where tourists and local residents share hammocks suspended from gigantic trees, a short boardwalk juts out over the shallow, clear blue water, a few shops sell t-shirts and other souvenirs, and a sandy cove welcomes those who wish to do nothing more than soak in the tranquility. In the midst of this nirvana, The Wreck serves its famous mudslides and the best fish and chips I have ever eaten.
For as well as the week had been going - eating great seafood, snorkeling at Stingray City, renting a car and spending a day at Rum Point - we definitely saved the best for last. On Saturday Sherry and I went scuba diving with Red Sail Sports. Our "Discover Scuba" experience included a short introduction to the basic principles of scuba diving, an opportunity to practice five important skills under the guidance of an instructor in the hotel's swimming pool, and then the afternoon dive on Lone Star Reef.
With the necessary morning routine completed and another lunch at the Sol Bar charged to our room, we were shuttled by van from the Marriott to the Hyatt where we boarded the dive boat. After making a stop at The Westin to collect more divers, we anchored at Lone Star Reef and put on our gear. Rolling from the dive platform and into the water from the back of the boat, I felt like I had been dropped into an aquarium. Amazingly clear and blue water surrounded me, and when I put my face into the water and looked at what was below me, spectacular bursts of red, orange and yellow corals seemed to be everywhere. I dove with Sarah, my instructor, at my side, and as she finned us through the channels of coral (imagine swimming above a sandy road with beautiful coral formations on either side), I saw tiny fish that seemed to be no longer than a fingernail. We saw a lobster hiding under a bank of coral, large grey snapper, and the most memorable collection of colors I have ever seen under water.
Although I had been scuba diving in Acapulco a few years prior to this trip, the clarity of the water and the number and size of fish we saw in Grand Cayman made this an exceptional diving experience. Under the water, I was free. I didn't need to think about the location of curb cuts, the slope of ramps, or the availability of accessible parking spaces. It didn't matter if an elevator was out of order. I t didn't matter if a doorway was 28 inches or 40 inches wide, and it didn't matter if I couldn't roll under the sink to wash my hands. Nothing mattered. I was free. The floor of the ocean was easier to navigate than the sidewalks of my hometown. The residents of the coral reefs passed no judgment on their visitors. This was a sacred place for me - a stunning, quiet place where I belonged.
On the morning of our departure, it was difficult to find many reasons to be happy about leaving Grand Cayman. After considerable contemplation, though, I came up with one: eventually, luck runs out. I guess I'll have to go back in 2014 to kiss another stingray.
In addition to their notoriety as a diving mecca, the Cayman Islands are known for their high standard of living, the banking and financial industry, spectacular beaches, outstanding restaurants, and the overwhelming devastation caused by Hurricane Ivan in September, 2004. Two easy flights (Washington National to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Grand Cayman) had us on the island within six hours of leaving home, so by lunchtime we had shed our fleece jackets and gloves and were dining al fresco at the Grand Cayman Marriott Beach Resort's Sol Bar. Located in the heart of Seven Mile Beach, the Marriott provided a clean, comfortable hotel that was wheelchair accessible and allowed us to walk / roll to nearby shops and restaurants. Multiple options for on-site dining, a freshwater swimming pool, its beach location, and the usual list of resort services rounded out the Marriott's requisite list of amenities.
Our first full day on the island was spent on the beach in the morning, exploring the downtown area of George Town - the capital city of the Caymans and a very busy port of call for cruise ships - in the afternoon, and catching a cab to Hemingway's, an acclaimed restaurant in the Hyatt Regency hotel, where we enjoyed another outdoor dinner while watching the sun set over the Caribbean. It was hard to imagine life could get much better than it was that night, especially as we recalled that our friends and families in northern Virginia were still dealing with the aftermath of a Valentine's Day storm that left them buried under winter's dreaded trifecta - sleet, snow, and freezing rain.
Although we had spent a few hours on the beach since arriving on Grand Cayman, most of our excursions during the first few days had occurred on land, and by Thursday I was more than ready to get into the water. We'd booked a snorkeling trip with Captain Marvin's (www.captainmarvins.com) for that afternoon, and after being picked up at the hotel and loaded into a van, we were off to the boat and the first of our three stops - Coral Garden. With one end of a rope tethered to the boat and a life-ring attached to the other end, I was helped into the water and told to hold onto the ring with my right hand. Floating behind the anchored boat, I let the waves and the current direct my body. I watched small fish swim below me, enjoying the serenity while anticipating what I would see at Stingray City.
In the 1920s, when Captain Marvin Ebanks was a young boy who fished with his father, custom dictated that they stop at a shallow sand bar in Grand Cayman's North Sound to clean their catch. The fishermen noticed that stingrays would congregate around their boats to eat the fish scraps that were tossed into the water. Nearly a century later, the same site draws tourists from all over the world who long to interact with the playful rays in their natural habitat. I could see as we approached that there were already three boats, a crowd of people, and too many dark spots (the rays swimming) in the water to count.
With everyone off the boat and the line and ring once again attached, I was helped into the water. I held the ring in my right hand while using my left to try to touch the rays swimming below me, but each time I reached for one, a wave rolled in and lifted me away from my target. Everyone standing in the water also had the ability to reach down and touch a stingray, or feel it as it swam by and brushed against a leg. Having neither function or sensation in much of my body made this a strictly visual - and somewhat disappointing - experience until one of the rays seemed to realize my plight and swam up so I could briefly touch his back. It was a magical moment, and if there were a way for me to express gratitude to that particular stingray, I would most certainly have done it. At the end of our stop at Stingray City, while all of the other patrons returned to the boat, one of Captain Marvin's crew members brought a ray up to me so I could touch it. The ray's back was soft and smooth like velvet, his belly like a wet mushroom. And when I learned that kissing the critter would bring me seven years of good luck, I didn't hesitate to improve my fortune. Who can't use a little good luck?
Although we ate at several fine restaurants during our stay on the island, my favorite meal came from a renowned beach shack called The Wreck Bar and Grill. No vacation on Grand Cayman is complete without a day-trip to the north side of the island's Rum Point, a blissful place where tourists and local residents share hammocks suspended from gigantic trees, a short boardwalk juts out over the shallow, clear blue water, a few shops sell t-shirts and other souvenirs, and a sandy cove welcomes those who wish to do nothing more than soak in the tranquility. In the midst of this nirvana, The Wreck serves its famous mudslides and the best fish and chips I have ever eaten.
For as well as the week had been going - eating great seafood, snorkeling at Stingray City, renting a car and spending a day at Rum Point - we definitely saved the best for last. On Saturday Sherry and I went scuba diving with Red Sail Sports. Our "Discover Scuba" experience included a short introduction to the basic principles of scuba diving, an opportunity to practice five important skills under the guidance of an instructor in the hotel's swimming pool, and then the afternoon dive on Lone Star Reef.
With the necessary morning routine completed and another lunch at the Sol Bar charged to our room, we were shuttled by van from the Marriott to the Hyatt where we boarded the dive boat. After making a stop at The Westin to collect more divers, we anchored at Lone Star Reef and put on our gear. Rolling from the dive platform and into the water from the back of the boat, I felt like I had been dropped into an aquarium. Amazingly clear and blue water surrounded me, and when I put my face into the water and looked at what was below me, spectacular bursts of red, orange and yellow corals seemed to be everywhere. I dove with Sarah, my instructor, at my side, and as she finned us through the channels of coral (imagine swimming above a sandy road with beautiful coral formations on either side), I saw tiny fish that seemed to be no longer than a fingernail. We saw a lobster hiding under a bank of coral, large grey snapper, and the most memorable collection of colors I have ever seen under water.
Although I had been scuba diving in Acapulco a few years prior to this trip, the clarity of the water and the number and size of fish we saw in Grand Cayman made this an exceptional diving experience. Under the water, I was free. I didn't need to think about the location of curb cuts, the slope of ramps, or the availability of accessible parking spaces. It didn't matter if an elevator was out of order. I t didn't matter if a doorway was 28 inches or 40 inches wide, and it didn't matter if I couldn't roll under the sink to wash my hands. Nothing mattered. I was free. The floor of the ocean was easier to navigate than the sidewalks of my hometown. The residents of the coral reefs passed no judgment on their visitors. This was a sacred place for me - a stunning, quiet place where I belonged.
On the morning of our departure, it was difficult to find many reasons to be happy about leaving Grand Cayman. After considerable contemplation, though, I came up with one: eventually, luck runs out. I guess I'll have to go back in 2014 to kiss another stingray.
