I eventually arrived in Tobago just after sunset, having flown via Barbados and Grenada from San Juan, after driving three hours across Puerto Rico before sunrise. Needless to say, I was knackered!

After the three flights, my five huge bags of windsurfing kit and surf boards were scattered all over the Caribbean, but my clothes bag arrived with me to Tobago's 'International Airport' and spun around a carrousel no bigger than a scaletrics track. I was definitely back in the Caribbean dreams are made of.

Ricky greeted us and immediately introduced us to the local beer to help drown our sorrows of not having to carry a ton of kit through another airport.

Shortly after we'd checked into our hotel there was a knock at the door and two nutters burst in; Dom, my Best Man and Skene, a good old friend from a misspent youth. The night was young.

Sunday School.
It was Sunday. Other than that, there's no reason to call it Sunday School. There's three rum shacks creating a Bermuda Triangle of lost people, staggering to reggae beats, Caribbean calypso and if you get there early enough, the most fascinating live music; a sixty piece steel band which grooves like an orchestral shoal of fish, shimmering and flashing and dancing as one.

We quickly became reacquainted with each other, heavily lubricated by the local rum, helping to us slide between different conversations and different people.

Everyone I spoke to that night had a common trait in Tobago. None of them knew what they were doing there. Few could even remember why they first came. Even less would ever escape as the time warp of rum shacks linked their nights like a string of Christmas lights. Tonight we were burning Sunday School, the biggest candle, from both ends.

Beyond these observations, Tobago for us was so far a place of darkness, as we'd not yet seen it by daylight. By 5am we were the last ones awake at Sunday School. Skene was giving someone a hair cut who'd tried to sell him a pair of scissors, Dom was trying to help but couldn't stop his sporadic pelvic bump and grind Calypso dancing, Shawna and Clare were setting the world straight with some local rastas and I was watching all this realising I'd been awake for over 24 hours....

The following day (a technicality based on sunrise) we were awoken to parrots squawking and the brilliant white sandy beach. After peeling myself out of the bed, I was faced with the task of finding a car to get our boards to us, which had now arrived at the airport. I called around but Ricky's pick-ups were all in use, Skene's car was too small and Dom only had a boat. So I stopped someone in the street who was driving a pick-up truck.

"Any chance I could rent you truck for an hour?" I asked in a way only someone deranged from sleep deprivation and made more of rum than blood could think of.

"Why not."

Five quid and an hour later I returned the truck to the total stranger having collected all my boards from the world's smallest airport. How did it happen? What if I'd tried stopping someone else in the street? I had more chance of being run over than finding someone mad enough to rent me a car. I still can't believe it.

We needed to eat and chanced upon a great place called the Courtyard. Having eaten more than any normal humans could have, we realised we'd forgotten our wallet and had no means of paying.

"No problem, come back and pay when you can."

Where in the world are we? Tobago. Robinson Crusoe's island. He wasn't marooned; he was just chilling out.

Windsurfing.
The windsurfing happens at Pigeon Point, a privately owned nature reserve sheltered from the waves in all directions by a huge coral reef, and protected from the sun by an umbrella of palm trees climbing high out of their starry shadows.

The sea is fluorescent turquoise scattered with dark leopard skin spots. The wind blew everyday from ten to twenty knots. Even after a long blast out to sea, in most areas you could still touch the bottom. And we were running an INtuition coaching week here, paradise found!

Because of the problems in Venezuela, many windsurfers who would have been going to Margarita were in Tobago instead, and I can see many of them coming back to Tobago for the future. It's an intermediate's paradise. It's perfection. There's not many places in the world idyllic enough in so many ways (great windsurfing, safety, nightlife, shallow water, regular winds) worthy of our INtuition courses, but Tobago has shot up our charts to be on par with Alacati and Dahab, especially as an easy to reach winter getaway.

With direct daily flights from Gatwick, it's quicker door to footstraps coming here than it is going to some Greek and Red Sea popular windsurfing venues, as the transfer time here is about three minutes.

So what's the catch? Usually the winds are quite light; still good planing conditions but expect to be on a 6m to 8m depending on your weight / technique.

These are typical windsurfing conditions of the Caribbean, with the exception of Margarita and the Dutch Antilles where winds can get really strong and therefore suit the more advanced windsurfers who are used to sailing in rough chop. In this respect, the windsurfers who'll get the most out of Tobago are beginners to advanced; perfect for learning to waterstart (a pair of board shorts sometimes felt too warm) and ideal for learning to carve gybe (falling off has never been such a pleasure!)

We arrived earlier than our guests for our INtuition holiday, so with a bit of time on our hands, we needed to sooth our surf addiction and headed out to the reef for some wavesailing. Trouble was, how to get that far out to sea?

Orinoco Flo.
OFlo is nearly fifty foot of carbon fibre catamaran, capable of speeds in excess of twenty knots. Skippered by Dom, we blasted out to the reef in search of surf. Local windsurfer Skene chose the right spot, where the wind was side off shore for smooth wave riding, we rigged up on deck (ample room for three rigs), dived over the side and nipped over to the reef. Talk about dreams coming true, this is luxury windsurfing. All we'd need now is some rum punches and a perfect sunset.

Tobago isn't a wave sailing location for tourists; without a boat it's almost impossible to sail out to the reef, making this trip even more special for us.

The waves were firing but the winds were really light, so getting out was a combination of luck, balance and timing, wobbling straight into a few bigguns with out even enough wind to tack or gybe. A classic situation of 'one step forwards, three hundred steps back!' Typical of wave sailing though, despite the hours of being battered trying to get out, it's always worth it for a few seconds of riding back in.

That night we moored alongside Mount Irvine, the main surfing break on the island, cooked up some nosh and kicked back on deck, out of reach of the mosquitoes, tucking into some local rum under a perfect sunset. All we'd need now is.... Hang on, that was it, the rum punches and sunset finally quenched my insatiable quest! The perfect day!

Million Star Hotel.
Although there were comfy beds below, I had to conclude this wonderful experience on OFlo with a trip back to my roots, and snuggled into my board bag on deck. One night on this million star floating hotel rocked me into one of the best sleeps I've had and filled me with more memories than I'd usually get from a whole month of experiences. My kind of luxury.

During the week when my guests arrived, we all went for a cruise on OFlo at sunset. The orange glow of everyone's faces, from the rum punch and the low sun was gorgeous. Everyone shared a moment of piracy, ho ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Positive Vibration.
Back on dry land, we slept with our doors open every night (the latch was broken), which is unheard of elsewhere in the Caribbean. Most of the islands have a high crime rate and despite looking like paradise on the beach, most of the buildings in the Caribbean have metal cages covering all windows and doors, and broken glass or barbed wire on the wall tops to prevent intruders.

Apparently the low crime rate in Tobago is because everybody knows everybody (they all meet at Sunday School). And also because years ago when the locals first came here from Africa, the same mellow people inhabited Barbados, Tobago and Grenada. Whereas Jamaica and Trinidad where inhabited by a tougher bunch and hence have massively higher crime rates. At least that's what a taxi driver told me one night. I think it's also the fact that Tobago is relatively new to tourism in the Caribbean, so catch it soon!

Pigeon Hole.
We were in a pigeonhole microcosm at Pigeon Point. Where life was wake up, eat, windsurf, eat, windsurf, go out to eat, drink rum, pass out. Repeat daily for ten days. It was only on the tenth night that we ventured into the main town of Scarborough and to our amazement there were sirens blaring and traffic lights. We were so laid back into the palm trees and turquoise backdrop of Pigeon Point, we couldn't believe our eyes when a fire engine sped past. It was like seeing a UFO. Total gridlock!

The Grass is Greener.
A good friend of ours, Christian, arrived in Tobago and went straight to Mount Irvine for a surf. He hit the beach and approached a local, extending his hand for a shake, but the local turned away, ruffled in his bag, then turned back with a huge spliff and handed it to Christian saying "dis is how we say hello in Tobago."

Carnival!
As if anyone would need any further persuasion to visit Tobago, they have Carnival. A truly wild experience we've yet to experience. But if Sunday School is anything to judge it by, be prepared for eye opening late nights and mellow people going mental.

INtuition Holidays.
I run two weeks of coaching and entertainment in Tobago in early February each year from now on. Join me and I'll help you experience the purest Tobago and the best freeride windsurfing in the Caribbean.

Thanks.
Big thanks to Dom on Orinoco Flo, Skene Howie,  Ricky and the gang at World Of Watersports, the wind gods for blowing hard and of course Planet Windsurf for handling all our INtuition Holidays and helping us get there.