Lindz Graham via Flickr

Enjoying Super Bowl Sunday with a little football, Caribbean-style, on the beach at Dickenson Bay, Antigua.

We’ve told you about a half-marathon versus a volcano, an eco-challenge versus another volcano, a kayak race out at sea, an impossible trail race, grueling cycling contests, and a triathlon pitting athletes against a beast! Indeed, the Caribbean offers a great many opportunities for active travelers to test their mettle competing in some very uncommon sporting events. La Ruta Maya Belize River Challenge is certainly no exception.

Now entering its 15th year, this arduous canoe race is contested over four days, with three-person teams covering 170 miles of waterways, west to east, across Belize. Professionals and amateurs compete in eight different divisions. There’s prize money on the line too, but for most of us the main objective appears to be simply survival.

This uncommon race isn’t just grueling. The official overview published on the event website goes so far as to describe the river route as “perilous!”

PERILOUS?!!

That itty bit of a warning, though, is followed by this rosy text later in the same paragraph:

This is a race for everyone (not just professionals).

Hmm… So, it’s a race for everyone along a perilous route… Sounds about right for us, no?

If it sounds about right for you too, then you’ll want to check in with the folks at La Ruta Maya Outfitters who put together the video above. They offer 10-day all-inclusive packages that enable you to “enjoy” the best of the race, while also soaking in the best of a Belizean beach break once you’re done.

Not only do these guys hook you up with a canoe and all the gear you’ll need for the adventure, but during the race they also set up your camp each night, cook and serve your meals and mix up cocktails to soothe your soul after each hard day of rowing. They take care of breaking everything down in the morning as well, trekking ahead to the next campsite to greet and pamper you all over again.

If you fall prey to any of that “perilous” river route, La Ruta Maya Outfitters has you covered there as well, with a certified EMT always on-hand as part of their group.

The 2012 Ruta Maya Belize River Challenge is coming up March 9-12. For mote info on La Ruta Maya Outfitters packages, click here to visit them online.

Ron Zacapa 23 de Guatemala/SBPR

In the no rules world of rum, imitation is not only the sincerest form of flattery, it’s also quite often a recipe for something very, very special. Ron Zacapa Centenario 23 is a prime example.

Like Dos Maderas P.X. from Spain, which we told you about last summer, Zacapa borrows heavily from the winemaker’s art to achieve its uniquely sweet, refined flavor. Sherry is once again the wine in question, though its role in crafting this premium rum is expanded beyond what we’ve enjoyed with Dos Maderas.

Initially crafted in 1976 to mark the centennial founding of the town of Zacapa, located in eastern Guatemala, Ron Zacapa is a premium blend comprised of rums aged between six and 23 years with a few unique characteristics that separate it from the the rest.

Number 1: This Spanish ron has a bit of a French accent.
Like French Caribbean rhums from Guadeloupe, Haiti and Martinique, Zacapa is made from the virgin first pressing of sugar cane juice, not the molasses by-product of sugar production used in producing the vast majority of the world’s rums.

Number 2: It’s aged in the clouds.
Ron Zacapa’s aging facilities are located a good 7,500+ feet above sea level in the mountains of Guatemala. Temps up there average in the 60′s, limiting the Angel’s Share (ironic considering the lofty heights) and, according to Zacapa, adding a special quality.

Number 3: Solera Blending (here’s where the sherry comes in).
Zacapa’s six- to 23-year-old rums are blended using a solera method common to sherry production in Spain. Solera, as described by our friends at Wikipedia, is…

fractional blending in such a way that the finished product is a mixture of ages, with the average age gradually increasing as the process continues over many years. A solera is literally the set of barrels or other containers used in the process.

Alright, I don’t really like that definition either. There’s a much better one on Scottie’s Rum Pages right here.

The result of all this special blending, high altitude and cane purity is a sweet, dark and rich rum that goes down beautifully neat, or with one or two ice cubes. Zacapa doesn’t go quite as far down the dessert rum path as Dos Maderas, but it’s plenty dulce, almost a little chocolatey with hints of other nice tropical spices as well.

In short, Ron Zacapa Centenario 23 es fantastico, and certainly has me anxious to try additional solera rums in the near future.

¡Salud!

Sea Side Bar, Barbados

Perched on a hill across the street from the famed Bathsheba Rock, Sea Side Bar is the perfect place to stop to refuel on rum punches, Bajan staples and “old talk” while exploring Barbados’ unique east coast.

Like many rum shacks, Sea Side Bar is counterintuitively painted in Banks Beer’s bright red, white and black. So, it’s pretty hard to miss and manages to entice more than a few tourists away from snapping photos of the rock with a promise of laid-back good times soaked in local libations. But don’t be fooled, this isn’t a watered down rum shack experience. The little bar’s one room is dominated by the loud, raucous carrying-on of local regulars seated on white plastic chairs or installed on the bar itself — as it should be in an authentic rum shack.

On the wall to the left of the entrance there’s a small photographic gallery of the bar’s history worthy of anyone looking to learn a little more about Barbados’ rich past. Photos of surfers are tacked up next to area grannies who rub shoulders with politicians and construction workers. It’s a mixed up mosaic, but it works. And should any visitors take an interest in the gallery, the room erupts with regulars taking the uninitiated down memory lane via a steady stream of unsolicited “old talk.”

Chicken, Macaroni Pie and Salad at Sea Side Bar, Barbados

The menu, scrawled only somewhat legibly on a small green chalkboard leaned against a wall in the back, changes based on availability, but you can bet that whatever’s on offer will be authentically Bajan. Fried flying fish, macaroni pie, grilled chicken and the like usually form the centerpiece of their plates with side salads added for a little color.

On recent visits, we’ve run into MMA fighters, colorful locals polishing off entire bottles of Old Brigand and even a British TV mogul seeking an escape from the highlife. You never really know who you’ll meet. So, you’re best bet is to just grab a drink, prop up the bar, turn to your neighbor and strike up a conversation. You never know where it’ll lead… Except to more drinks!

Your monthly moment of zen.

Entering the Caroni Swamp, Trinidad/SBPR

This, was a mistake.

That rueful refrain kept racing through my head at the onset of my excursion into the Caroni Swamp in Trinidad a few weeks ago. It wasn’t fear of the Spectacled Caiman, or the “relatively aggressive” Cook’s Tree Boa snakes, both notable Caroni residents, that had me so unnerved either.

No, the real source of my trepidation was the young 20-somethingish kid sitting next to me on our tour boat. The problem: he was wearing nothing short of his Sunday best.

Call me crazy, but when I sign up for an eco-adventure (emphasis on the word adventure) into the heart of a sprawling, 490-acre swamp (the largest mangrove wetland in Trinidad) that’s teeming with rare birds and other unique forms of wildlife, I don’t expect to see some clean-cut kid dressed in ultra-pressed finery tagging along. Just the sight of him – his hair parted just-so, his shoes bearing a mirror-perfect shine – burst my bubble for any real adventure that day.

Persistent smoke-outs, courtesy of our boat’s sputtering outboard engine, further dulled the eco-shine on this excursion. When my fellow “explorers” weren’t gagging and coughing, they were chatting and laughing loud enough to keep most of the wildlife away.

Oh well, I thought, at least the natural beauty was truly incredible, especially as the sun began to set, the river widened and we entered into a broad, open area dotted with small mangrove islands.

Deep into the Caroni Swamp/SBPR

It wasn’t what I had originally wanted, but I was happy enough with the peaceful, serene boat ride, and all the great photo opportunities it presented.  We had a seen a few boas and iguanas along the way, plus a couple four-eyed fish (really!), so that was good too. By the time we arrived at what seemed like a random spot up against one of the mangrove islands, I was content, thinking the experience was over and looking forward to dinner back in Port-of-Spain.

Boy was I in for a surprise!

Suddenly, our guide called for us to look off to the west. There, we saw what appeared to be whitecaps riding along the surface of the otherwise perfectly still Caroni waters.

Here they come!/SBPR

This, of course, was not some rogue wave barreling in to upset the swamp. Well, not a wave of water, anyway.

It was, in fact, the first “wave” of thousands upon thousands of birds that return to the Caroni Swamp each evening after spending the day feeding over in Venezuela, some 11 miles to the west. Every day they make the commute, arriving home at a select few mangrove islands in the Swamp just before the sun goes down.

No exaggeration: this was a natural spectacle the likes of which I have never seen.

Wave after wave after wave of birds racing inches above the water toward home, then exploding into the trees in a torrent of feathers, squawks and, undoubtedly, joy.

Home at Last/SBPR

The sight of the white egrets returning home was incredible, but an even more awe-inspiring performance was put on by the marvelous scarlet ibis, Trinidad’s national bird which flourishes in the Caroni Swamp. Indeed, there can hardly be a better place to witness these brilliant winged creatures en-mass, as they too make their way home along with their egret cousins.

Scarlet Ibis returning home/SBPR

Interestingly enough, the white egrets settle in the inner sections of the tree out of sight, while the scarlet ibis’ stick to the outer limbs, creating somewhat of a Christmas tree or poinsettia effect once they’re all home.

We probably sat there a good 30 minutes or so, admiring the unique avian show. The sun was setting, though, and it was soon time to head home.

The endless procession of birds continued as we left, the vagaries that marked the start of the trip long forgotten.

A chill wind cut into us as darkness fell. The dock where the adventure began drew near. I looked over at Mr. Junior GQ. From somewhere he had produced a sweater. “Of course,” I chuckled. Of course.

The Caroni Swamp is located a quick 30 minutes south of Trinidad’s capital city, Port-of-Spain. You’ll want to bank on spending a minimum of two hours out on your tour boat. Dress appropriately (I guess) and be sure to bring some insect repellent as this is a real, live swamp with real live mosquitoes, nats, and other biting insects. The 4pm tour is the one you’ll want to book to see the spectacle of the egrets and scarlet ibis’ dashing for home. Click here for more info and details on how to make reservations for your tour.

Uncle Panks Browning from Trinidad & Tobago/SBPR

Few are the secret ingredients more essential to creating that uniquely West Indian flavor we all know and love than a simple sauce called Browning. Even if you’ve enjoyed island food your whole life, it’s entirely possible you’ve never heard of this stuff, so understated and surreptitious are its magical methods.

The proverbial straw that stirs the drink of so many island favorites – oxtail stew, peas and rice, stew chicken, stew beef, even black cake – Browning is an absolute essential in any West Indian kitchen… and yet, you won’t find a bottle of it like this in many of ‘em.

This is Uncle Panks All-Purpose Browning from Trinidad & Tobago. As you can see front and center on the label, it’s good for adding Caribbean flavor to seafood, poultry, beef (not pictured) and just about anything else.

It’s good stuff, or so says my sister-in-law, Kathleen, who used this very same bottle in making the fantastic Black Cake I received this past Christmas.

So, why won’t you find this in the kitchen cupboards of many households throughout the Caribbean?

Well, truth is, Browning is just so easy to make, that it almost seems more trouble to buy it than to mix up a batch of your own.

The proof is in the paltry list of ingredients featured right on the bottle of Panks – caramel color and water… that’s it!

I hear you doubts: how could something so simple add so much goodness to so many different dishes?

I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true! It’s also true that there’s more to most homemade Browning than the Panks label implies.

At its core, browning is really just burnt sugar. Burnt brown sugar, actually. My Dad taught me how to make it years ago to add extra color and sweetness to the beef cubes I usually like to include in my red beans and rice.

Basically, you just pour a tablespoon or two of cooking oil in your pot and mix in a couple tablespoons of brown sugar. Heat it up til the mix starts to caramelize and smoke a bit. Next add your beef cubes, sautéing them in the browning. Along the way, you’ll notice that the Browning adds a deep, rich dark-brown color and a wonderfully smoky, molasses-like scent.

It’s a smell that transports most anyone who grew up in a West Indian household right back to their mother’s kitchen. Visitors to the region may also be reminded of an authentic island restaurant, or a visit to a local friend’s home.

Either way, it’s hard to add a more authentically West Indian dimension to almost anything you’re cooking… and best of all, it couldn’t be any easier to make!

Reaching for the Rainbow, Barbados by Patrick Bennett

Reaching for rainbows over Cotton House Bay AKA Freights Bay, Barbados. Try it for yourself with this Barbados rainbow wallpaper.

Coco Bar at Hotel Bakoua, Martinique/SBPR

Those of us too young to have anything beyond a cursory textbook understanding of WWII can’t possibly imagine the joy that must’ve swept the world once the fighting stopped in Europe and the Pacific. Our unbridled celebrations today are generally reserved for the comparatively trite triumphs of our sports heroes, political reps and American Idols. Back in the early-1950s, though, there was real joy, real relief, optimism and an irrepressible joie-de-vivre vibe we can only dream about today.

Or so I thought until I spent an afternoon at the Coco Bar in Martinique last November.

This iconic bar sits on stilts above the sea at the Hotel Bakoua in the sultry resort area of Trois-Ilets, just across the Bay of Fort-de-France from the island’s capital city. People don’t come here for the drinks (stronger and better can easily be had elsewhere). They don’t come for the snackfood, or to ogle the topless beauties on the shore either (okay, perhaps a few are attracted by the latter).

No, instead they come for the vibrant sunshine, the calm and soothingly persistent sea current that massages all who so much as wade into the waters surrounding the bar, and for views like this across the Bay…

View of Fort-de-France Bay from the Coco Bar, Martinique/SBPR

If they love history and classic Caribbean music like me, then they also come to live the dream of those heady 1950′s days when Beguine provided the soundtrack for the good times in the French West Indies.

A dance and music form similar to a slow rumba that originated in Martinique, the Beguine exploded in popularity around the world following Cole Porter’s recording of Begin the Beguine in 1935. The song itself later became a big band staple regularly covered by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald and Artie Shaw. Beguine music, however, was hardly ever better than when performed by Ernest Léardée.

Born in Fort-de-France in 1896, Léardée was an orphan who eventually rose from poverty to become one of the world’s leading composers/band leaders. His genius in capturing the ebullient mood of the early-50′s is evident in the multiple styles he employed along with the Beguine. Samba, guarracha, mambo, rumba, and bolero are but a few of the tropical rhythms Léardée worked into his repertoire, giving voice and song to the limitless possibilities of the time.

I first got a taste for Léardée’s amazing amalgam of West Indian music while sitting at the Coco Bar on that brilliant day back in November. Hearing Léardée work his magic while perched atop the waves watching beachgoers revel in the Bakoua’s idyllic seaside playground provided a delectable hint at the joy and optimism of the post-war age. See for yourself in the video below, which features one of my favorite Léardée songs, La Belle Amélie…

You can’t help but sigh, smile and soak it all in, which, with all the trouble in the world today, is an experience I HIGHLY recommend.

For more music by Ernest Léardée, search for him on iTunes, or click here for his catalog on Amazon.com.

Balvenie Caribbean Cask by Patrick Bennett

Those who frequent our site may find this hard to believe, but sometimes, just sometimes, we drink spirits other than rum! I know, I know, we’ve written about the joys of rum over a hundred times in the past two years, and now we’ve even declared this coming February The Month of Rum, but man cannot live on rum alone. (Believe me, we’ve tried.) So, before throwing ourselves enthusiastically into a whole month overflowing with the golden goodness of rum, I’d like to take a moment to enjoy my second favorite spirit: scotch.

I know what you’re thinking.

“Scotch!? What self-respecting Caribbean blog covers scotch?”

Well, we are called Uncommon Caribbean after all, and besides The Balvenie Caribbean Cask Single Malt Scotch Whiskey is not your ordinary scotch.

This golden-hued intoxicant begins life like most scotches in the cold, far northern reaches of Scotland. There, in a little village set on the banks of the River Spey the Balvenie Distillery has crafted some of the most amazing expressions of single malt scotches the world has ever seen since 1893. And over the years, little has changed. They still grow all their own barley, still malt in the traditional fashion, and still employ coppersmiths to maintain their stills. (OK, probably more has changed at Balvenie than at this distillery in Grenada, but you get the idea.)

Anyway, not content to sit on their malted laurels, the maltmasters of Balvenie have a long history of experimenting with different cask types (port, sherry, etc.) and ages of spirit for new, imaginative tweaks to their range. And that’s where our old friend rum comes in. In a manner much more nuanced than the moment someone got chocolate in someone else’s peanut butter, David Stewart, Balvenie maltmaster for over 45 years, dreamt of laying a soft, sexy and decidedly West Indian patina of rum-soaked oak around their top-shelf scotch.

The result: one of the most silky smooth and round scotch whiskeys to ever pass my lips. You’ll be sure to taste familiar Caribbean notes of vanilla, molasses and even sugarcane masterfully mingling with the oaky tastes you’d expect from a quality single malt. Far from an abomination, this is an easy-drinking masterpiece-in-a-bottle worth spending some quality time sipping with friends… Or keeping all to yourself!

So, for a taste of something different with a decidedly Caribbean twist, I highly recommend giving The Balvenie Caribbean Cask Single Malt Scotch Whiskey a try.

Slaandjivaa!