Our knees were buckling, and mud streaked our legs. It was the third day of a Caribbean honeymoon like no other, and we were exhilarated. My partner, Jeanne, and I, together for 20 years, had never before felt the urgency to tie the knot. But this past November, with a case challenging the federal right to gay marriage headed to the US Supreme Court, we decided to rush to City Hall. With matching gold-plated flower rings on our fingers, we booked a hasty, celebratory getaway to Saba, a place so undersung that, when we told people we were going there, they invariably responded, “Where? Never heard of it.”
This tiny Dutch protectorate in the Leeward Islands hosts no cruise ships. Its only real beach is an ephemeral strand that appears seasonally, if luck will have it. A quiet yet technically active volcano, the island totals five vertiginous square miles, and its roller-coaster-grade single road was hand-built by farmers nearly 90 years ago. It’s a wonder anyone manages to live there. Yet 2,000 souls call Saba home. They’re the descendants of pirates; of European settlers who tamed the jungle in order to farm plantations; of enslaved Africans forced to work those plantations. They’re expats from the Netherlands, the US, the Philippines, and Central America, with a few wealthy owners of mansion hideaways thrown in. For such a diverse population, it’s a close-knit place. “If you don’t know what your business is, somebody else will tell you,” said the taxi driver who dropped us at our hotel.
A third of Saba’s land is national park, and a marine reserve encircles the island. It’s dubbed the Unspoiled Queen for a reason. There’s little to do here but dive, hike, and eat spiny lobster. In other words, it’s our idea of paradise. So, with my scuba gear in tow, we flew from New York City to St. Maarten, where we caught a puddle jumper to Saba and landed, after a 12-minute flight, on the world’s shortest commercial runway.
There aren’t many accommodations here, but ours was sweet. We stayed at Juliana’s Hotel in Windwardside, a town of white gingerbread-esque cottages with red roofs (typical Saban architecture), and our suite had a vaulted ceiling and an expansive ocean view. At the poolside restaurant we feasted on crustaceans: lobster bisque, lobster “escargot,” and lobster salad. We made a valiant effort to finish our entrée, a grilled two-pounder.
