How to explore the natural beauty and wildlife of the Cayman Islands – The Telegraph

“Caymankind.” That’s what Caymanians like to talk about. They prefer to focus on the neighbourly hospitality and natural beauty of their Western Caribbean Islands, rather than the idea of tax havens and bankers in Bentleys. They’ll also tell you their biodiversity is greater than The Galapagos, and I came seeking investment in that natural capital: endemic fauna and flora fashioned by geographic isolation. You won’t find caiman crocodiles – long gone since Sir Francis Drake reported seeing “great serpents” here in 1585 – but the name stuck anyway. 

I flew into Grand Cayman, its western coastline the cosmopolitan hub of the financial sector, full of five-star resorts and condos, and an evolving waterfront city, Camana Bay, with luxury yachts moored in its marina. Such ostentatious wealth conforms to preconceptions of what a tax haven might look like. But if you want to hear what the locals feel about it, ask a cabbie. “There’s thousands of foreign companies here man,” said Rodger Allie as he ferried me around. “It’s good business as we get registration fees and jobs. It’s what keeps our islands going.” 

He dropped me off at the upscale Kimpton Seafire Resort (doubles from £632; seafireresortandspa.com), my 10th-floor view scanning one of the Seven-Mile Beach – on of the Caribbean’s longest – which itself gives way to a coral reef that renders bands of a turquoise-bright lagoon and inky-blue sea like a Rothko painting. (Caymanian women joke the beach is only five and a half miles-long but was named by a man.)  

On the first of my daily excursions to find Caymanian wildlife, I opened my own offshore account when, submerged shoulder-deep in seawater, stingrays careened into me. “They’re textured like portobello mushrooms,” said Adam Loynton, who took me on his catamaran charter to “Stingray City”, the island’s most popular nature-based activity. 

It’s possible these stingrays are affectionate. More likely, they associate humans with food. “A few years back marine biologists said they had an obesity crisis as they were being overfed by tourists so feeding has been regulated,” says Adam. “Mind, they’re still bringing in tourists. Somebody calculated they’re worth $500,000 each to the economy”.  

But they’re upstaged by the endemic blue iguanas. Around 20 years ago there were only 25: outcompeted by non-native green iguanas and eaten by feral cats. A last-ditch captive breeding attempt began at the Queen Elizabeth II Botanic Park where Casanova – almost 5ft in length and weighing 30lb – waited by the entrance, guarding his self-declared territory from rivals (admission £10.70; botanic-park.ky). He was indeed strikingly blue, although nobody really knows why they evolved this pigmentation. “By breeding we’ve managed to recover their population to around a thousand,” said Peri Smalldon, showing me around.

I left Peri feeding these cerulean beasts foul-smelling noni-fruits, which mercifully didn’t appear on my evening menu. Cayman offers the most diversely sophisticated culinary scene I’ve experienced in the Caribbean. One night I dined al fresco at a little brasserie called Vivo, tables squeezed together alongside the beach, where among line-caught fish dishes, were skilful plant-based creations. Their delicious young-coconut ceviche proved indistinguishable from fish.  

Although if you fancy a steak, you should head to Union Grill, a bistro with a  polished European buzz, often featuring jazz, in Camana Bay. The British owners moved here after running a hotel in the Balearics. “There’s quite a gap between perception and reality about Cayman,” said Yorkshireman, Paul Slijper. “People think it’s financially unregulated, but it took three months of scrutiny to even open a bank account. For a couple like us approaching retirement, life’s very easy – if you have money. It’s a very different experience to other Caribbean islands. There’s a lot of wealth but also very down-to-earth local culture.” 

The other side of Grand Cayman materialised next morning on the less-developed eastern coast, when I joined islander Shane Edwards for a leisurely bike ride. This 53-year-old gave up corporate accountancy to launch his ECO-bike tour (from £72; ecoridescayman.ky), which promises a more Caymanian experience: “The west coast is all international hotels and ex-pats. But not everybody’s rich. Most Caymanians live simple lives in harmony with nature and their neighbours. That’s Caymankind.”  

It was a pretty cycle; we breezed past mangroves, where leggy black-winged stilts picked over exposed tidal flats and where the locals live in wooden beach houses between coconut palms facing the East End reef, a graveyard of ships. We stop at a memorial where 10 British ships foundered in 1794. “The locals saved 450 lives, including King George III’s son,” said Shane. “As thanks, he decreed Caymanians would never pay taxes.”  

The next day I was once again chasing rare iguanas, flying to Little Cayman (population 170) – one of two outlying “Sister Islands”. First sighted by Columbus in 1503, the mangroves and beaches are surrounded by a rich marine environment. If before I’d been pootling around Grand Cayman in second gear, this was like slamming into reverse. There were certainly no banks to be seen. 

My twin-otter flight touched down, scattering chickens off the runway. The Seahorse Coffeeshop is run by Little Cayman’s second longest residents, South Texan ex-pats, Gay and Ed Morse. “Been here 33 years. When we arrived there were 13 people,” said Gay, retaining her Texan drawl. “There was no electricity or grocery store, and the supply barge came monthly. The challenge of living here was part of the fun”. 

I sought out Little Cayman’s endemic rock iguanas, best seen basking around the museum; at Booby Pond Nature Reserve, frigatebirds harassed red-footed boobies mid-air, performing hostile food takeovers by forcing them to regurgitate their fish catch so they could sweep down and recapitalise it in their own greedy gullets. 

Most visitors come here for the diving. Bloody Bay Wall dive was named by Jacques Cousteau as one of the world’s best. Snorkelling with Beth Chafin of the Central Caribbean Marine Institute, the drop-off revealed a bright fantasia of brain corals and gorgonian sea-fans delicate like sugar-work, fussed over by parrotfish and sergeant-major fish. I encountered green turtles and less huggable stingrays, while Beth spotted a young reef shark, which feigned a few harmless charges. 
“He always does that. I think he’s socially awkward,” said Beth.  

I was reluctant to leave but the 10-minute flight to neighbouring Cayman Brac was hardly onerous. There were no chickens on the runway this time, just Barry jerk grilling them at his nearby shack. In Gaelic “brac” means bluff and in this case refers to the 10-mile-long tectonically uplifted limestone reef that dominates the island’s northern shore like a petrified tsunami. Brac is the most traditionally Caymanian island, with few ex-pats. Here I definitely found Caymankind. “Some might find Brac boring. There’s not much partying here; people just like to take it all in,” said my guide, 25-year-old Philip Smith.  

We visited craggy limestone caves where fruit bats roosted, then atop an escarpment rattling with silver thatch palms I photographed brown booby birds on the edge of 140ft-high sea-cliffs. The vegetation is stunted by strong salty winds, which makes it seemingly miraculous to find an Eden-like 20-acre farm attached to Le Soleil d’Or, a boutique Mediterranean-style hotel with a patio of terracotta pots (doubles from £471; lesoleildor.com). I “took it all in” later with a negroni. 

After the next morning’s homegrown fruit-platter of papaya, dragonfruit, tangerine, and starfruit, head gardener Randal Inociaan showed me the farm. Under the shade of sweetsop and orange trees, he explained that they cultivated 80 per cent of hotel produce. “It’s expensive and polluting to import fruit and vegetables,” he said. Coveting his crops are rock iguanas and Brac’s endemic parrot. “We live with them by planting ‘sacrifice’ trees like papaya, so they’ll leave our salads alone.” 

Back on Grand Cayman, I walked down Seven-Mile Beach, seeking a sunset cocktail and came across a turtle-release. Geddes Hislop of the Cayman Turtle Centre arrived, carrying a two-year-old green turtle weighing 20lbs (£26 per visit; turtle.ky). Placed on the sand, patterned carapace glimmering under the sun, the turtle looked around in disbelief. Then he crawled inexorably towards the sea. “They’ve been iconic to Caymanian food and trade since the 1600s but were nearly lost before we started breeding them in 1979,” said Geddes. “The population remains low but is coming back; 90 per cent of those nesting here come from our centre.” 

The turtle reached the incoming tide, no longer hesitating. I joined onlookers in a spontaneous round of applause. It’s not only bankers who leave here a bit richer, but nature-lovers too. The dividend of Caymankind felt well worth the investment.

Essentials

British Airways (ba.com) operates four direct flights a week from Heathrow to Grand Cayman. 

Self-guided tours of the Blue Iguana Conservation cost £5.35 (nationaltrust.org.ky). Cayman Diving (southerncrossclub.com) offers bespoke dive packages and accommodation. More information can be found here: visitcaymanislands.com.