Caribbean: A tack is the best form of defence

A Barbadian idyll turns sour when the beach vendors move in. That's the time, says Magnus Mills, to seek sanctuary on the ocean waves.

The aloe vera man had spotted me again. Whenever he saw me sitting on the beach rubbing sun cream into my white British legs he would settle down nearby and begin chopping up a thick green stem with his machete. His plan was to mash up the pieces, squeeze them into a bottle and sell me the contents. Only pure aloe vera, he told me repeatedly, would protect me from the blazing sun. Unable to convince him that I was quite happy with my sun cream, I headed for my usual means of escape: the water sports centre.

This was, in fact, a small hut situated beneath a coconut palm, but the sign said "water sports centre". Minutes later I was 100 yards from the shore in my Sunfish sailboat, safe from the aloe vera man.

Mind you, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd come swimming after me. Of all the beach vendors on this side of Barbados, the aloe vera man was the most persistent. He did have a living to make, after all, and there was a lot of competition. An endless procession of vendors sold everything anyone needed for life on the sand. Coconuts, colourful print shirts, sun hats. I liked to imagine that there was a guy at the end of the beach checking all the vendors through a turnstile every 30 seconds or so.

Few of them managed to bother me, of course, because I was out in my Sunfish most of the day. These attractive little boats are perfect for the warm Caribbean waters. You can learn to sail them in about 20 minutes - they practically sail themselves, anyway. Up and down the shore I sailed, counting the coconut palms and watching local fishermen cast their nets.

Barbados looked even more beautiful when seen offshore over the gunwale of a tiny boat with a red-and-white-striped sail. I could lie with my feet over the side listening to the cricket commentary on my transistor radio. St Vincent vs Dominica. Very nice.

Then one day I arrived at the water sports centre and found that sailing was cancelled. A red flag had been stuck in the sand to signal that the breakers were too big for safe launching.

An unwelcome cold front had apparently upset the usually tranquil sea. The hotel manager assured me that this kind of thing happened on only 10 or 12 days a year at the most.

"Why not simply enjoy the very blueness of the sea?" he suggested.

I spent the day drinking Bank's, the local beer, and discussing the very blueness of the sea with some German girls I met sunbathing along the beach. That night my wife defeated me thoroughly, comprehensively and categorically, at table tennis.

It gets dark very rapidly after sunset in the West Indies. The sunset itself happens quickly and with a sudden colour splash, and then, as the crickets begin madly rubbing their legs together and the rest of the tropical wildlife join in the chirping chorus, it's time to find a beach bar for the evening.

We sat beneath spinning fans in a large, open-sided restaurant built on wooden stilts above the sea at Mullins Bay. I wondered if the local people ever get fed up with the constant sound of waves gently lapping the shore, over and over, surge and retreat, for ever, beneath a starry sky on this warm rim of the Atlantic Ocean. Probably not.

The next day was my last on Barbados and I decided to see how far I could sail in my Sunfish. I left the beach and headed due west in the direction of St Vincent. Further and further I went, until I felt that to those on the shore I would be no more than a tiny speck on the horizon. All right, so I only went about a mile out - but at last I felt the true freedom of being at sea in an open boat. And immediately I began to wonder whether there were dangerous sharks in those waters. There aren't, so I was later told.

Not until the coconut and almond trees lining the shore became no more than an indistinguishable green barrier, did I turn back. The swell had risen and for some reason the sun had gone behind a cloud. As I approached the shore I could see the guys from the water sports centre standing there, waiting. They stood motionless beside the little hut under the coconut palm. Waiting.

"Hi, guys," I called, as I pulled up the rudder and surfed safely back on to the beach.

No reply.

"Great sail," I said, as they took hold of the boat and pulled it the last few yards up the sand. "I went out as far as I could go."

No reply.

In silence they took down the mast, folded up the sails and locked them in the hut. The holiday was over.

Scheduled flights to Barbados are available from Heathrow on BWIA (0181- 577 1100) and from Gatwick on British Airways (0345 222111). Charters and package holidays are offered by a range of companies, such as Thomson, Airtours, First Choice and Unijet.