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White silvery urchins, buttercup fish gleaming like gold, giant star and parrot fish in rainbow colours, fern swaying in slow motion, we marvelled at the underwater world as our glass bottom boat sailed to the coral reef. Frigate birds circled overhead while along the shore, sea grape trees cast pools of shade on white pristine sands.

We had long dreamed of a holiday in the Caribbean and for our first venture, we chose Grenada at the southern end of the archipelago, a delightful island of quiet beaches, rainforest and mountains filled with the sound of birds and waterfalls. The air smells of flowers and spice and the picturesque capital of St George’s comes straight out of a fairy tale.

Nestling on the west coast of this exotic English-speaking island, the town is all pastel houses and quaint colonial dwellings clinging to steep volcanic slopes, among lush greenery and palm trees silhouetted against the blue sky. Fort George keeps watch on a rocky promontory, its old cannons pointing out to sea, an arduous climb on a sunny day but when you reach the windswept battlements festooned in valerian, the view takes your breath away, stretching over the hills, town and harbour and along the coast meandering like a dream far into the distance.

The capital has three harbours, none prettier than the horseshoe-shaped Carenage glinting with sails and water taxis waiting to ferry beach lovers across the lagoon. We browsed around the West Indian market selling straw and palm leaf hats, brightly-coloured batik, sweet potatoes, nutmeg syrup, chillies and more, and feasted on fresh fish and traditional spinach-like callaloo soup in a cool waterside restaurant. Restored warehouses mirrored themselves in the water, sweetcorn sizzled on roadside barbecues and in myriad churches still scarred by Hurricane Ivan, bells chimed crystal clear as the last cruise ship sailed into the sunset.

Along the coast, framed by green conical hills, the sweeping bay of Grand Anse has two miles of white powdery sand, almost deserted, and one beach restaurant painted yellow and green. We nearly missed the craft market with its spice baskets and steel drums tucked behind a gate and the thin sprinkling of hotels hidden among bougainvillaea and morning glory. A few shops beckoned behind the beach but we preferred to wander through the lanes where wooden houses on stilts climbed up the hillside and chickens roamed in the yards.

To us, the ‘main resort’ was a gem, beautiful and unspoilt, though in the course of the week we would discover many more, Morne Rouge leading to Quarantine Point and fabulous views across to St George’s, La Sagesse lulled by the breeze rustling through the palms, Magazine Beach and its turquoise waters, Prickly Bay at the southernmost point, Coral Cove and its golden sunrise over distant peaks and the lovely fjords indenting the coast to the east.

We could have lazed on the beach all day, sailed, snorkelled or dived but with so much to explore, adventure kept us on the move. Grenada is only 21 by 12 miles but amazingly diverse, from the sheltered Caribbean coast of the west, fringed with white sand, to the Atlantic shore of the east and its sprinkling of volcanic beaches battered by Trade Winds, and inland mountains where rust-coloured monkeys swing in the trees and the call of tropical birds echoes on the slopes. One sixth of the island is preserved as nature parks and wildlife sanctuaries.

Keen to enjoy the scenery in the most relaxing way, we joined an Island Tour, setting off one morning in a refreshing shower of ‘liquid sunshine’, rain to you and me, though not for long. On these fertile slopes, plantations steamed all around, mango, coconut, oranges, papaya, while red catkins shook off their glistening raindrops and the national colours, red, yellow and green, gleamed on every telegraph pole and hairpin bend.

We strolled around Gouyave where the fishing fleet bobbed at anchor and nutmeg, the ‘black gold’ introduced by the British, left its scent in the air and we drove through dainty villages and Victoria town dozing at the foot of St Catherine’s Mount, before heading for the northern tip with its dizzying clifftop panorama and memories of the ancient Caribs who jumped into the sea rather than surrender. Old plantation houses peeped through the trees among remnants of sugar factories, sulphurous springs and lakes teeming with wild life while far below Levera Beach awaited the return of breeding turtles.

At over 2000 feet, we reached Grand Etang, a vast crater lake at the heart of the National Park, surrounded by mountains as far as we could see. There were wild orchids, bamboo and rainbow trees, cascading streams, deep gorges and valleys, and here and there the orange blossom of an immortelle tree splashing colour in the jungle.

That night, we dreamed of virgin forest and spectacular waterfalls tumbling through the wilderness. By morning, all was ready, guide, walking boots, sticks, water and hats. We opted for the Seven Sisters, an easy trek, we were told, past cinnamon and guava trees, pink ginger lilies and clumps of mimosa fern curling up as we brushed past.

Later the path plunged steeply into the valley but we heard the falls long before we saw them, great encouragement when we had to cross the stream balancing on a tree trunk. But the Sisters were waiting, leaping from pool to pool, draped in foliage all shades of emerald and jade. We gazed in silence as if the slightest word might encroach on such an idyllic scene.

Other treks, other waterfalls tempted us but time was short and remembering the five gold medals awarded to Grenada at the Chelsea Flower Shows, we wanted to see at least one of its famous gardens. Our choice went to the Bay Gardens set on woodland slopes above St George’s, on the site of an old sugar mill. Royal palms and black tulip trees, sweet lime, vanilla, red-leafed cordyline, bergamot, garlic vines, 25 varieties of ginger lily, 15 of heliconia, we were overwhelmed by the displays and the enchanting natural setting. There was no better way to end our holiday on this fragrant and colourful island.

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