Photo: Some of The Baths' granite giants.

How has a bunch of big boulders called The Baths become the biggest tourist destination in the British Virgin Islands? From our anchorage off the Virgin Gorda Yacht Harbour we watched a non-stop parade of vessels going to and from The Baths, and on shore it was the same with taxis and tour buses. Everyone wants to get there. We’d checked it out ourselves years ago, but time had worn away enough of the memory that I knew I needed to go again.

At 8 a.m. I rowed ashore, thinking I’d gotten a jump on the heat. I gingerly sidestepped the buzzing traffic in “The Valley,” the only town on the island. At the end of the main road I turned left, up the hill, escaping the traffic but running smack into the heat. Even if the signs hadn’t confirmed I was on the right path, the appearance of the huge rock formations would have said, “Baths -- this way.” The road meandered up hill, past a bakery-slash-eatery featuring salt fish and fungi, a school packed with uniformed teens and across the street, De Peepin Bar. (I wondered what the kids thought about that place.)

Pulling the collar of my long-sleeved shirt around my neck and tucking my hat a notch lower on my head, I trudged on and up to find the Rainbow Pre and Primary School. The young ones were inside seated in neat rows. Their playground held a funky metal swingset, beside it a cluster of huge rounded rocks. I imagined the fun they have climbing on them, something that would be considered far too dangerous in the states.

The road became one crusty, paved lane flanked by giant cactuses guarding some houses behind them. A block from the crest of the hill I could see the Mad Dog restaurant, the National Parks office and a plain yellow flag flying high, shouting to me, “Surrender!” I did just that, standing in the shade of the park’s ticket booth waiting to buy my entrance, while a local fellow chatted at length with the coy young girl inside. The view from the waiting room was a spectacular panorama of the sea and islands beyond, but no impressive rocks as yet.

Before descending to sea level and The Baths themselves, visitors are cautioned to “watch your step.” The sandy, root-choked path twists around and over increasingly larger stones, until arriving at the bottom where the beach fans toward the sea with colossal stones looming over it all. “Now I remember,” I said to myself.

Like Dorothy on the yellowbrick path, I had to choose which way to go. Signs pointed left and right and paths led off in all directions. One official posting pointing to Devil's Bay warned visitors to be prepared to “climb, crawl and swim.” Ducking low, I got myself through the first hole, testing the depth of the water in the clear pool beyond it. I hesitated, not wanting to douse my camera or myself, when two Americans appeared from a tunnel beyond. Clearly there are many ways to climb through The Baths, so I asked, “If I go that way, is it deep?”

Pointing to a higher path, they volunteered to lead me. Up and over we went, rock climbing skyward and sliding back down on our bottoms. Periodically we came to weather-worn wooden handrails, ladders and platforms angled with the rocks, giving the illusion of a funhouse without mirrors. More people joined us along the way until our line finally popped out at a scenic overlook, where all 12 of us climbed onto a rocky platform. Cameras snapped and were passed back and forth, everyone wanting to record the pilgrimage.

A few people slipped into the water to swim back to their anchored boats, others wandered off to see more. I turned back alone, studying the scene closer, wondering what cataclysmic event had tumbled the earth in such a way, piling these granite giants atop one another at the edge of the sea. The groupings are organized and helter skelter at the same time, reminding me of hastily washed dishes piled too high in a drainer. Like seeing animals in the clouds, my imagination saw these one- and two-story behemoths as cups on saucers, bowls on tables, cars and castles.

Satisfied with the answer that “Everyone comes to The Baths to be wowed,” I climbed up the path before heading down hill toward town, past the cacti and the kids out eating lunch. De Peepin Bar was closed, which set me to wondering. I might just have to find the answer to that one next.

Jan