FRIDAY

A score of years and our honeymoon has passed, but after a long day of hopping planes (and boats) down along the great arc of the Antilles, we’re finally here in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, just 12 degrees north of the equator.

Back in the 1990s when the tropical isles in this big blue sea were still blank spots on our mental maps, St. Vincent was our first choice for a honeymoon. “It’s back to nature,” a yachtie told us. “Dark volcanic hills, wild forests, coral reefs, empty beaches,” he said. “Like being Robinson Crusoe without the shipwreck.”

We’re a couple steps up from Crusoe, we realize when we arrive at our castaway island. The 113-acred island resort of Petit St. Vincent has 22 cute Caribbean cottages built of stone mined from the island. Ours, number 18, sits just above the sea on a rocky promontory overlooking the western side of the island, Petit Martinique and beautiful sunsets in perfect view.

The cottage is solid and rustic. An arch frames the bedroom and another arch leads to a well-appointed (if somewhat small) bathroom. For relaxing, we have a couple of couches around a glass top coffee table (great for game playing) and another small glass top table that serves for in-room dining. No TV, no phone. While some of the furnishings are a bit dated, it’s the view and privacy that has made us fall in love with this unassuming place. A sweeping 270 degrees of sun, sea and Petit Martinique.

SATURDAY

So we no longer love our cottage for the magnificent view. This morning we discovered an even better reason. After sleeping wonderfully to the sound of the crashing surf (almost too loud, at times) we found our way down to the source of the seaside symphony.

While not our own private beach, this small sweep of sand a few steps from our cottage might as well be. It is book-ended by two cliffs that hide it away from everyone but our friendly neighbors in cottage 17. After a refreshing morning swim, we enjoyed the seaside seclusion so much that for breakfast we took advantage of the unique room-service system here?tree-mail.

That’s right, tree-mail. Simply write down your order, drop it in a bamboo slot and raise the little yellow flag at the end of your pathway. In about an hour (time for another swim), your coffee, croissants and fruit plates await you. It works for dinners, drinks or any request you might have.

The island is quite manageable, and transport is by foot (or if you prefer, the resort folks will shuttle you around via mini-moke, a sort of go-kart/dune buggy).

Up on a hillside, sits the main house with an office, boutique, bar and the restaurant, and behind it is the astro-turf tennis court. From chatting with other guests, we discovered that the largest stretch of beach is along the north side (windward) and that cottages 6 through 10 have beachfront real estate (though they are much closer together than ours). As for the beaches, they all seem to have little palapas and the flag system, too. Want a drink or lunch? Just raise the Jolly Roger. Crusoe never had it this nice.

SUNDAY

Exploring today - a highlight. We went out to Richardson Island, a little sandbar 3-minutes away by boat. White sand, a delicate reef all around and a nice shaded palapa for lunch. The perfect castaway island you might envision. We were alone for a little while, then a few other dinghies showed up.

After lunch we struck out for the more remote?and tiny?Tobago Cays, a group of uninhabited islands at the southern tip of the Grenadines. These are dry desert islands cloaked in cactus, but fringed in white sand beaches and shallow seas as green as polished jade. Snorkeling was superb here.

MONDAY

Found my watch. Sitting right where I left it our first day, tucked beside my shaving kit.

Serendipity. We’ve spent the better part of a decade searching the Caribbean for wonderfully hidden hotels, luxurious resorts, and those perfect little gems that have such great charm and character that they steal your heart. Just when you think you’ve seen it all you stumble across another one in a hidden corner of the Caribbean, like Petit St. Vincent.