by Francoise Giacalone

Often, when asked where we are next going on vacation, upon hearing our response the exclaim is, "Saba! Again? Don't you two go anywhere else?" This is usually accompanied by a probing look ranging from incredulity to utter incomprehension. And our standard response is, "Well, yes, we do go other places. But we love Saba."

We certainly do love Saba. Part of the allure is its near-remoteness. Let us explain. It's fairly easy to reach, with a flight to St. Maarten followed by a 15 minute flight from there. But unless they are divers, most people have never heard of Saba. "But Niels, Saba's Mt. Scenery is the highest point in the Dutch kingdom!" And even my Dutch cousin is just a little surprised at being reminded of this factoid.

Saba is a mountain, a real, dormant volcano. The dive site Hot Springs provides proof that the volcano is not extinct; a large patch of warm yellowish sand attests to the presence of sulfur. It's not the only evidence of geologic activity. The pinnacles, very near the island, are the tops of underwater mountains. Yes, we've done all the Saban dives, multiple times. But therein lies much of the appeal. You see, diving the same site is, in fact, different from visiting the same hotel. The underwater environment is a kaleidoscope. It changes from dive to dive, day to night, month to month, season to season, even from mood to mood. Hovering over the abyss is a reminder that nature offers an elegant grandeur that man can only strive to achieve. But it's also a testament to the human willingness to explore places for which we are definitely not adapted. I'm invariably awed that the same DNA that codes for a human being or a cat or a bird is the same DNA that codes for a shark or the coral or a fire worm.

Back on land, climbing to the top of the volcano is an experience not to be missed. Each time we visited the island, we said we would climb it next time. It wasn't because we didn't want to, it's just that we were diving, or having lunch after diving, or napping after diving, or reading after diving or whatever after diving. Mostly we were just too busy doing nothing. Besides that, climbing Mt. Scenery is a sweaty 90-minute stairmaster workout. But the summit beckoned, extending an invitation, finally insisting that we visit. It was not until our twelfth visit to the island that we finally climbed the mountain. We should have done it sooner.

From a distance, Mt. Scenery is among the prettiest peaks in the Caribbean. The view from the trail is a decided step back to an earlier era. The elfin forest is primeval jungle leaves and trees dripping with moss and tiny orchids all shrouded in ethereal mist. The view is superlative, an endless Caribbean vista punctuated by the surrounding islands.

Our answer to the question based largely on the natural bounty of the island because it is a place where friendliness is simply assumed. It's one of the few remaining old fashioned Caribbean destinations where luxury is defined as the absence of excess.