The ferry terminal in Charlotte Amalie, on St. Thomas, is down the street from a Pizza Hut. A few traffic-choked blocks beyond, tanned men stand outside jewelry stores, barking at passersby about discounts for cruise-ship customers. At a bar blaring Jimmy Buffett tunes, a waitress wearing a uniform serves daiquiris from a machine that looks like a Slurpee dispenser. If this doesn't sound like your idea of a luxurious escape, do what in-the-know Caribbean travelers do: Head to that ferry terminal and board one of the charmingly second-class boats -- they sport hand-painted names on their prows, and passengers watch the passing waves from old airplane seats bolted to the floor -- to the nearby island of Tortola. Forty minutes later you'll step into a world where there's no such thing as fast food.
Or fast anything else, for that matter. Everything moves slowly on Tortola, the largest of the British Virgin Islands, a largely undeveloped archipelago in the northern Caribbean Sea. "Slowly" in a good way, of course, like the warm winds that fan the quiet island chain year-round, tugging sailboats through the turquoise waves. Sailing is, in fact, the hottest action on the island; each year, roughly half of Tortola's visitors arrive by chartered yacht. The reason boaters flock here is partly the trade winds, but it also has something to do with the sailors' "we'll get there when the wind gets us there" attitude, one shared by Tortola's 18,000 inhabitants.
All Caribbean islands are said to be laid-back, of course, but on Tortola, "Take it easy" is more than a T-shirt slogan. Tortolans cater to vacationers, but they don't change their ways to accommodate ours. It's hard to find a restaurant that has a door or a bar without roosters. Hours of operation can seem arbitrary. No-frills accommodations are abundant. There are first-class hotels on Tortola, to be sure. The Sugar Mill, for example, offers private villas and renowned cuisine served in the 370-year-old former boiling house of what used to be a rum distillery, and the Long Bay Resort hides tennis courts, a spa, and waterfront cabins in the low-lying palms that line a long stretch of beach. But if you're looking for the Marriott, stick to San Juan.
The lack of tourist traps on Tortola is not from a lack of industriousness. On the contrary, the locals have worked diligently to keep the beaches free of sprawling hotels and the wildlife unmolested (there's a local law that no building can be taller than the surrounding palm trees). Sage Mountain, the long, pointy hill that forms Tortola's spine, is crosshatched with winding roads, many of them dirt, with corners so sharp that the taxi drivers know to honk at every turn.
At the base of the lush tent-fold hills are, of course, the beaches. Most are lined with bars -- slapdash shacks in the sand constructed primarily of driftwood and decorated with washed-up buoys, yellowed Polaroids, and threadbare underwear left by past revelers. The most popular of these makeshift rum huts is Bomba's Surfside Shack, built from flotsam and jetsam over Cappoon's Bay. The rotund host, Bomba, presides over the festivities, which climax each month with the famous Full Moon Party.
Considering Tortola's stripped-down brand of relaxation, it may seem odd that the local drink is called the Painkiller (a numbing concoction of pineapple juice, O.J., cream of coconut, and rum). The biggest industries are tourism, offshore finance, and a little rum making, none of which seems to wear down the locals. And the only serious concerns for tourists are sunburn and getting sand in their bathing suits. But you don't need to be in pain to hit the bars. They'll be ready to serve you, although not in the way the cruise ship passengers on St. Thomas are used to. The bartenders here just roll out of a hammock around noon and start pouring. And they don't wear uniforms.
STIR IT UP
To mix up a Painkiller, the island's cocktail of choice, you'll need to hit these shops for the best ingredients: Pusser's Rum is the most important item. At Pusser's Landing (284-495-4554; pussers.com) in Soper's Hole, West End, you can slurp down a drink and then buy a six-pack of rum at the company store. The Ample Hamper (284-494-2494; amplehamper.com), with shops in East End, West End, and Road Town, is a favorite provisioner for sailors. They stock cream of coconut and lots of tropical juices. Freshly ground nutmeg is the finishing touch on most local cocktails.
