About two thirds of the way into the journey, our driver Super Dave pulled over to the left and pointed across the valley. The Pitons had come into view — and what a spectacle they were. Mountainous volcanic spires draped in lush emerald, the Gros and Petit Pitons soar up like rockets on St Lucia’s south-west coast. The symbol of the island and a UNESCO World Heritage site, their connecting ridge sits above a pretty, powder-soft bay that we were headed for.
Turning off just before Soufriere, the island’s old capital that takes its name from the French for ‘sulphur in the air’, we started our descent into Sugar beach and its 100 acres of former sugar and banana plantations. Winding through lush gardens and grounds where gingerbread trimmed white cottages perched in trees like eagle’s nests, we bypassed reception and came to a stop at 108, our spacious residence for the next few days.
We were assigned a dedicated ‘butler’, the brilliant Markenzie, who was more like a special forces agent and available at the end of the burner-style phone 24/7; as well as views that were so good-looking that, like lovesick teenagers, we talked of little else during our stay.
Our terrace, framed like a postcard by the majestic Petit Piton, led down via a private walkway to the beach below with glassy jade waters. It had a whiff of White Lotus about it, a feeling only heightened when we put on our finery for the Manager's Drinks on the South Pier, where guests gather every Wednesday to mingle over Champagne and canapes at sunset.
Sugar Beach does, of course, attract the honeymoon brigade thanks to the hideaway-feel of its rooms, each of which comes with its own plunge pool. But, there are also plenty of families — many multigenerational — groups of friends and solo travellers to balance out the atmosphere.
After a hearty breakfast up at the old plantation house, everyone congregated on the main beach or at the pool to bag their loungers for the day. Kids played table tennis and croquet, and the younger generation got stuck into the piña coladas. Further down the beach (all beaches in St Lucia are public), locals offered boat trips and water taxis, necklaces and tourist tees, and even mixed smoothies and rum punches out of a floating bar.
There were snorkels and masks to borrow from the pastel pink Watersports hut for exploring the marine reserve, a spectacular underwater exhibition of tropical fish and intricate coral creations; while the more audacious signed up for paddle boarding, doughnut rides and Hobie cat sessions. If you wanted a break from the sun, you could take Sugar Beach’s new self-guided tour of its private art collection, which is peppered throughout its indoor spaces and the grounds — and includes outdoor sculptures by the likes of Tom Sachs and Daniel Arsham; or wander up to the fabulous rainforest spa for a coconut oil-fuelled massage.
The resort — and I am not usually a resort person — is hard to leave, but I highly recommend doing so. The local area is full of action, from the gentle to the volcanic. Fancy a sunset cruise on a catamaran? Just ask your butler to arrange it. Want to slather yourself in sulphuric mud or do a chocolate tasting? Ditto.
We might not have climbed the Pitons (didn’t bring the right shoes, or mindset), but we did complete an early morning guided trip to Tet Paul, a short and unchallenging hiking trail through sweet potato and pineapple groves that rewards its conquerors with a phenomenal view of the Pitons from above. A chance meeting on the beach led to another highlight: a morning spent at sea with Shashamane, who offers water taxis and tailormade tours of the island’s various offerings.
After motoring around the headland, we hopped off at Soufriere to mooch around the Saturday morning market, stocking up on sulphuric soaps, hot sauces and local spices. We stopped for swims in the turquoise shallows near Jade Mountain and trailed fishing lines in our wake, crossing our fingers for a weighty catch that we could take back to Sugar Beach’s chefs for lunch. Our rods yielded a grand total of nothing, but it was the perfect morning.
And now to the food. The cuisine in St Lucia is a testament to its history, each mouthful bearing witness to its inhabitants over the centuries. The result is a proud melting pot of Creole, British and French flavours with Indo influences, all powered by the natural bounty of St Lucian ingredients.
During our boat trip, Shashamane detoured to Paradise Beach Hotel so we could taste ‘the best roti on the island’: shrimps wrapped in elastic dough and swimming in a turmeric curry sauce that stained our fingertips. Back at Sugar Beach, the Jalousie Grill quickly became my favourite spot, where we feasted on grilled tandoori king fish and garlic lobster with our toes dipped in the sand. Otherwise, we ran the gamut from casual to fancy, ordering ceviches and salads to our front row beach loungers, and tasting the best cuts of steaks on the terrace of Saltwood, the hotel’s most elegant restaurant.
In the taxi on our way back to the airport, as Super Dave regaled us with tales of his nighttime spearfishing and the island recipes he likes to cook, I made a pact to return to St Lucia. To explore a little further, eat a little more roti and perhaps even scale a Piton or two. Before bedding down, of course, in one of Sugar Beach’s cloud-like four posters.
