Travel Tip: It is possible to visit expensive destinations. List your priorities and budget accordingly. The best trip moments don't have to cost a thing.
When Pete and I thought about how to best celebrate 15 years of marriage on October 10, 2002, I immediately thought that a destination celebration might be exciting. We hadn’t traveled alone often since our boys were born and now that Phil was 12 and Henrik, 9, we knew that it was reasonably safe to leave them with grandparents. They were,after all, still in those golden prepubescent years of behavior. Or so we hoped.
But where to go?
The answer came during fellowship coffee time following the Sunday church service summer of 2002. Friends, Earl and Mina, were extolling the highlights of their recent trip to Bermuda. I was impressed because post 9/11, I didn’t know many folks who were traveling again.
Bermuda? Hmmmm—this destination had all the ingredients of a good vacation spot: it’s a British island (sounding romantic enough), photos of many of the island’s hotels looked gorgeous (great place to be pampered like royalty), and the beaches looked stunningly beautiful (snorkeling anyone?). Even though Pete had already vacationed there with his family in the early ‘70’s, he seemed eager enough to return. There was just one problem.
Bermuda was (and still is) fairly expensive to visit.
Our budget was tight during the first years of the millennium. Even though I was working, it was usually only two evenings a week which didn’t fill the travel account quickly. But we had one positive thing going for us—-
Frequent Flier Miles!!! After September 11, Pete essentially stopped traveling by plane while working for the chemical company, Rohm and Haas. The terror attack on the US forced a significant slow down of all non essential air travel for months. For Pete, the use of video conferencing made personal travel to the various plants around the world suddenly unnecessary. Thankfully, prior to 9/11, Pete flew extensively, racking up a sizable amount of miles. With the skies seeming more safe again a year after the terrorist event, I felt it was time to put his miles to I good use. Thankfully, it turns out, we had just enough for two tickets to make the two hour flight from Philadelphia to Bermuda. Hot dog!
Better yet, without having to buy airfare, we now had some leeway with the other two components of our trip: a place to stay and food.
Because I still wasn’t familiar with the internet for information gathering (and I’m not even sure how much information was out there in those days), I bought a best selling Bermuda guidebook from the local bookstore to help me plan the trip. These were the times when there were still book shops within a five mile radius of my home. Excitedly,I dived into the small paperback, reading it cover to cover in no time, concentrating most on deciding upon a hotel of my dreams. To my dismay, I discovered another potential roadblock.
Trying to keep within the restraints of our budget, I surmised that If we stayed in a hotel, we would not have much residual funds to use for food or entertainment. Staying in a less expensive bed and breakfast (B&B) seemed like a great option. After reading my guidebook’s description of the various inns and B&Bs, I settled on Loughlands, located in the Paget West parish, more or less situated very close to the pristine South Shore beaches. The photo and location made this decision appear like a slam dunk. The sprawling white Georgian mansion was situated on over ten acres complete with its own pool and tennis court. Unbelievably, we could have all of this for a mere $130/ a night. I figured I had found the deal of the century!
Being pre-internet times, I made my initial reservation by phone with the owner of the inn, Mrs. Pickles. All future correspondence would be made by mail, she advised me. I reserved a lovely second floor double room with a private bath and best of all, our own upper floor front porch situated over the entry portico.
October is considered off-season for Bermuda. Undaunted by the possibility of encountering cool temps, Pete and I hoped that we would have some reasonably warm weather to improve the beach combing, sight-seeing, and hopefully snorkeling. We were in for a real treat!
That second week of October 2002, Bermuda enjoyed fantastic summer-like weather. Most days, the temps proved to be in the mid-80’s. This wouldn’t have been a problem with our lovely room at Loughlands except that it appeared our guest suite might not have been inhabited for quite a while before our visit.
Why did we think this?
At check in, Mrs. Pickles handed Pete the key with instructions on where to find our room at the top of the stairs of the enormous mansion. Expectantly, he turned the key and opened the door easily. Both of us eagerly walked in, so excited to truly begin our anniversary trip. Unfortunately, we were welcomed by something that nearly ruined the start of our vacation. As we stepped into the room, we quickly became overpowered by the sickening smell of mildew and mold.
“Quick, turn on the a/c!”, I cried out in dismay. We were a bit surprised to discover that our quite large and elegantly decorated room came with only one small window unit that hadn’t been turned on in preparation for our visit or worse, hadn't maybe been used in months. When Pete turned the switch to “cool”, out chugged a fairly pitiful amount of “coolish” air along with a terrible damp odor that reminded us of a laundry basket filled with dirty socks. Undaunted, we unpacked, settling in quickly, hoping that the smell would go away eventually (or that we would get used to it somehow). We happily discovered our private balcony was spacious, had comfortable chairs and a sweeping view of the front of the property. Best of all, the air smelled fantastic out there!
Bermuda is lovely and I do highly recommend visiting. The beaches are spectacular. The snorkeling is phenomenal (our best experience in the water was at Grotto Bay Resort which is thankfully still open today), and our meals were overall delicious. Every morning we walked across the road to Elbow Beach Resort to watch the sun come up with our usually private view by the water (sadly, this resort closed due the pandemic and has not reopened to this date). Instead of staying in one of the luxe hotels, we had the funds to have dinner surfside at Coconuts Restaurant at the Reefs Resort ( still open today), rent a motor scooter to explore practically every mile of the island, and enjoy our first couples massage at the Sonesta Resort (which has unfortunately since closed and been demolished). The whole adventure was idyllic and also provided for two of the most humorous travel moments we’ve experienced to date.
Our owner/innkeeper, Mrs. Pickles appeared lovely when we first met her. She was 83 at the time of our visit and still very spry. On her mansion’s hallway walls were many photos of her own travel adventures including exploring an active volcano at some point in her younger years. Every space in each of the first floor rooms was filled with knick knacks and Waterford Crystal—just oodles of it! After filling out our registration form, and paying for our room, she informed us at check in that breakfast would be served each morning in the front room.
Our server each morning of our visit was a kind, soft-spoken gentleman. I don’t remember his name or any details about him except for the “warning” he gave us while refilling our coffee cups during one of our first delicious breakfasts.
“Watch out for the local people”, he said in an almost whisper. And with that, he sauntered away leaving Pete and me staring at each other, not sure to be concerned, scared, or just plain curious. Who were these mysterious “local” people and where were they? And more importantly, why did we need to “watch out” for them?
It didn’t take long to find out.
Pete and I were given permission to use one of the refrigerators located by the back door for our cheese and white wine. Most days, we never saw a soul in the house, including other guests. In the late afternoon of our second day we ventured toward the rear of the house to go outside and explore the pool area. Just before reaching the back door, we both noticed a figure sitting in the shadows, adjacent to the refrigerator. He (or she) just sat there in the dim light, sort of hunched over, possibly smoking a cigarette. The mysterious person did not look at us or speak, but instead, just sort of loomed.
“Hmmm, a “local” person?, we thought.
At breakfast the following morning, our server verified that yes, Mrs. Pickles was renting rooms in the back of the house (and the basement possibly?) to “the locals” whom he went to describe in more detail as being island “transients”. Despite our well meaning server feeling the need to warn us about “the local people”, we didn’t feel threatened in the least, though we did make sure we locked up when leaving our guest room.
The second humorous moment occurred on our last day at Loughlands. Unexpectedly, we saw much more of Mrs. Pickles than we dared imagined.
Our inn had a lovely wide staircase between the first and second floors. Pete and I had been told that a local tennis pro was using the court on the property to give tennis lessons to the islanders. We noticed the handsome, trim pro come and go but didn’t meet him personally. When descending the last flight of stairs from the middle landing, who should we see standing at the front door, chatting away with the tennis pro, without wearing a stitch of clothing!
Mrs. Pickles.
Our octigenarian innkeeper was casually chatting it up with the tennis pro more or less using her medium sized bath towel to cover only the front of her torso, leaving her backside fully exposed to us. Pete and I didn’t break our stride as we bounded down the stairs, despite the surprising view. Instead of exiting through the front door as planned, we executed a quick 180 degree turn to leave through the back door. We barely made it outside before we burst into serious giggles (and we still do when recalling this incident). After all, not many folks get to see their elderly innkeeper in the buff. The startling sight simply added to the charm of what we still remember as being a fabulous vacation on Bermuda.
Sadly, just eleven months later, Hurricane Fabian, the most powerful storm to hit Bermuda in 80 years, tore across the island, damaging many buildings, including Loughlands. I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Pickles but her property was later turned into “affordable housing” for Bermudians. Someday, I’d like to return to the island. Maybe this time, I’ll splurge for a room at the Fairmont but there was something especially romantic and adventurous about doing the B&B thing that particular fall.
Where else can you possibly meet the “locals” and more especially, see more of your innkeeper than you could ever imagine.
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