Visiting the Bequia Whaling Museum
**_Day Twelve · Thursday 15 May 2025 · Friendship, Bequia_**
The previous day, Bhavna and I had gone for a walk along Friendship Road. That’s when we met the couple—fellow guests staying at Sugarapple Inn—who were trying to find the Bequia Heritage Museum. We had chatted briefly, pointed them in the direction we thought might lead there, and then turned around and headed back to our beach cottage.
The next morning, during breakfast at the inn, the same couple let us know they’d found the museum and discovered an easy way there and back. What we learned from them was this: there’s an unnamed road that runs north and uphill from the Friendship Bay Anchorage. It connects with Friendship Road, and the Bequia Heritage Museum is just a short walk southwest from that intersection. All we had to do was walk west along the beach until we reached the anchorage and then look for the road.
It was our last day in Bequia. I told Bhavna we had to try to make it.
We waited until after lunch before setting off, though I use the word “lunch” loosely. We tried going back to the “known only to locals” spot from earlier in the week, but we were too late. They’d already sold out of food. That’s part of the charm but also the risk of these kinds of places. I don’t remember what we ate instead—maybe fruit, maybe nothing at all.
We started our walk along Friendship Beach, heading west. We passed the boat repair yard, The Sand Bar, and one of the 7,000-square-foot waterfront homes in Grenadine Hills. The path took us down to the anchorage, which isn’t the most popular spot for yachts. According to reviews I’d read on Navily, it’s known for being rolly because of the wind and swell. If you’re sensitive to that kind of motion, it’s not the anchorage for you. Somehow, though, it still makes the list of “10 of the Best Anchorages in the Caribbean.” Your mileage may vary.
We ducked under the dock and came out beside what looked like an abandoned beach bar—Paradise Beach Bar. I checked Google Maps and confirmed what the couple had told us. There were some steep concrete steps just beside the bar that led up to the unnamed road. Bhavna shot me a look that said, This better not be a lot of uphill walking. It was. But it was short. I tried to reassure her by pointing out that the return walk would be all downhill. She was unimpressed but kept going.
Once we reached Friendship Road, we turned southwest. The homes along that stretch are enormous. Not just large—massive. Rich European or Canadian expat massive — and they all had pools. Which, honestly, made no sense to either of us. You build a home on a hill overlooking one of the most beautiful tropical bays in the world, and then you install a pool? Why? Why do you need a pool when the sea is right there? We’ve never figured it out. Maybe it’s just a way to show off.
When we arrived at the museum, I stopped walking. The sight of it—simple, low, weathered—hit me in the chest. I felt it before I even stepped onto the path. Bequia’s whaling heritage isn’t just part of the island’s history. It’s my family’s history. My mum’s uncle—my grandfather’s brother—Athneal Ollivierre, was a master whaler. He’s a legend here. When you tell someone you’re an Ollivierre, something shifts in the conversation. There’s a respect that comes with it. And like most island families, our history was built on the sea: boatbuilding, shipping routes between Trinidad and Tobago, Grenada, the Grenadines, Saint Vincent—and, for better or worse, whaling.
The sign on the main entrance was disappointing at first: “Opening Hours: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays – 10am to 1pm (Out of hours tours available by prior arrangement)”. The museum was closed.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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I hadn’t expected that. But strangely, it didn’t matter. The Bequia Heritage Museum[^1] isn’t big. I’d estimate the footprint is about the size of a 2,000-square-foot, two-storey townhouse in New Jersey. There are outdoor exhibits scattered around the grounds and a locked indoor gallery inside a large room. But the room has lattice walls on three sides—just enough space between the slats to see what’s inside. I could even fit my iPhone through for a photo.
We walked slowly around the outside, reading every plaque and sign. I was seeing names I knew. Objects I recognised. Boats I’d seen built with my own eyes.
At the entrance, mounted on the stone wall, is a welcome sign:
“Welcomes you to The Bequia Boat Museum – Historic Boats of the Eastern Caribbean.”
Next to it, another sign explains the origins of the project:
“The Bequia Boat Museum
This project is funded through the generosity of friends and residents of Bequia in conjunction with The Grenadines Partnership Fund and Action Bequia.”
Conceived and developed by the Bequia Heritage Foundation
Trustees: Herman Belmar, Pat Mitchell, Wendy Leighton, Owen Belmar, Louise Mitchell
Architect: Thomas Dehen
Contractors: Laun Leslie and Thomas Dehen
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
I recognised the names. Mitchell. Two of the Trustees listed—Pat Mitchell and Louise Mitchell—were my neighbours when I lived in Bequia as a young boy. Louise’s parents owned the Frangipani Hotel near Barclays Bank. My brothers and I played with Louise and her sisters—Sabrina and Gretel—on the beach at Port Elizabeth. We built sandcastles together. Her father was Sir James Mitchell, who served as the second Prime Minister of St. Vincent and the Grenadines from 1984 to 2000. He passed away in 2021 at age 90. His death marked the end of an era—he had been the last surviving parliamentarian from the time of independence in 1979. He’s related to my mum, although the exact degree is a mystery. She just says, “The Mitchells are from Bequia. We’re family.”
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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There’s a rusted anchor leaning against the stone wall near the steps. A sign next to it reads:
“The ‘Admiralty’ Pattern or AP anchor, first adopted by the British Admiralty in 1852, is similar in design to anchors dating back to the 4th century BC.”
Donated to the Bequia Heritage Museum by Oren King
Just off the path, beside a Silver Trumpet tree, there’s a memorial plaque for Patricia Mae Mitchell:
“Pat’s passion for Bequia and its history, heritage and culture was a driving force in her life.
She dedicated 29 years of service to the Bequia Heritage Foundation to make this museum a reality.”
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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Pat Mitchell is the ex-wife of former prime minister Sir James Mitchell, and mother of Sabrina, Gretel and Louise.
A small white board offers practical information for visitors:
Welcome to the Bequia Heritage Museum
Exploring nearly 2000 years of Bequia’s unique history
This is where it hit me hardest.
Inside the museum, one of the main exhibits is dedicated to my great uncle, Athneal Ollivierre. There’s a photo of him aboard Dart, dated February 1972. The story tracks our family’s whaling lineage back to the late 1800s—Joseph “Pa” Ollivierre, the partnership with “Old Bill” Wallace, the founding of the Petit Nevis whaling station.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
You’ll find lots names of Scottish origin — McLaren, Hazel, Scoon, Wallace, Mitchell — on Bequia and in general the Grenadines. But the Ollivierre name, of French origin, stands apart. My grandmother was a McLaren, my grandfather was Louis Ollivierre. The Ollivierre name is especially prominent in Bequia and St. Vincent, where it is associated with maritime professions (e.g. boatbuilders and whalers), aligning with French coastal origins like Brittany and Provençal port towns.
French settlement in Bequia took root during two main periods of French occupation, between 1719–1763 and 1779–1783. When Britain took control in 1763, many French families stayed, especially in the southern Grenadines and Saint Vincent. The Ollivierre family descends from those settlers, whose roots trace back to Brittany and the south of France, in the Occitan-speaking regions.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
Some French migrants first came to the Caribbean as labourers or servants to sugar planters in Martinique, Guadeloupe, and Saint Lucia. Over time, French Creole and mixed-race families moved between islands—sometimes from Martinique or Saint Lucia to Saint Vincent or Grenada—carrying their language, names, and traditions with them. My brother Shane named my nephew Loïc. In Brittany, Loïc is a local form of Louis, and in our family it feels like a small thread tying us back to those French origins.
Scottish surnames, too, are common across Bequia, the legacy of 18th- and 19th-century migration from places like Glasgow, Greenock, and Dundee. They came through colonial administrators, merchants, and soldiers, and remain embedded in the island’s family names.
Bequia, part of what is now St. Vincent and the Grenadines, has long been known for its boatbuilding and seamanship. Admiralty Bay offered deep, sheltered anchorages, and the island’s shipwrights—both free men of colour and European settlers—became known for their skill. Working with hardwoods like greenheart and white cedar, they built sturdy vessels for fishing, trade, and travel between the islands.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Yankee whalers from New Bedford, Nantucket, and New London hunted sperm whales and humpbacks across the Atlantic and into the Caribbean. Some anchored in the Grenadines to trade, repair ships, and take on supplies. A few stayed, marrying into local families and passing down their knowledge—how to spot whales, how to pursue them, and how to handle the fast, double-ended whaleboats needed for the chase.
By the early 1800s, Bequians in villages like Paget Farm and Hamilton had adopted seasonal, shore-based whaling. They built their own double-ended, clinker-built boats, adapted from the Yankee design but made with local wood. Hunts were timed to the humpback migration between February and April. Catches were processed onshore, producing oil for lamps and lubrication, and meat—much as it was done in the old New England whaling towns, only on a smaller scale.
Boatbuilding became a shared craft between Bequia and New England. Bequian builders incorporated American hull shapes and rigging styles into their own work, while American crews sometimes ordered repairs or even whole new vessels from Bequia’s shipyards. The Bequia whaleboat still seen today is a direct descendant of those 19th-century Yankee models.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
Apple iPhone 16 Pro · ISO 64 · 1/1250 sec
iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
Trade between the Eastern Caribbean and the young United States strengthened the connection. American merchants sent salted fish, lumber, and tools to Bequia, and in return took sugar, molasses, rum, and whale oil north. After U.S. independence in 1783, American ships gained wider access to the Caribbean through treaties and informal networks. Some Scottish and English planters in Bequia had business ties in Boston or Rhode Island and even financed whaling and trading voyages.
For families like mine, with the Ollivierre name, there is a direct thread from those early New England influences to the boats and techniques that defined Bequia’s whaling for more than a century. My great uncle, Athneal Ollivierre, was perhaps the most famous modern continuation of this tradition—building and handling boats of that same Yankee-derived form well into the 20th century. Bequia is now one of the very few places outside North America where that heritage has survived into living memory.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
Apple iPhone 16 Pro · ISO 64 · 1/1250 sec
iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
The museum text says:
“By the time whaling reached its peak in 1910, 100 men from Bequia alone were specifically engaged in whaling – about 10% of the population.”
It goes on to describe the decline of whale catches, the drought years, and how Athneal broke that drought in 1958. There’s a long, detailed panel—one I read through a narrow gap in the lattice wall—that ends with this:
“Athneal Ollivierre pursued the mighty humpback whale using only a hand thrown harpoon and line… for over 50 years he provided the people of Bequia with meat, oil and bone in abundance…”
“He was the very portrait of a whaler, strong, bold, yet humble. He carried on the proud lineage of Bequia seamen, noted far and wide for their nautical skill, and bravery in the face of danger. Athneal contributed greatly to this legacy.”
I don’t think I cried. But I got emotional.
Shaded Pergola with Ocean View, Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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I told Bhavna that Uncle Athneal’s boat, Why Ask, was built in 1982. I was there at the launch. The name was an inside joke—very much in his character. It was damaged in Hurricane Lenny in 1999, repaired, and returned to the water in time for his last whaling season in early 2000. The Ollivierre family stopped whaling in 1996. Bhavna had met him not long after that.
I reminded her that today, members of our family actively promote whale watching and conservation. The historical narrative is written. The next one is ours to shape.
I remember being with my grandparents when a whale was caught. The news travelled through the island like an earthquake, with La Pompe and Derrick as the epicentres. My uncle took us out to Petit Nevis, the old whaling station—no longer in use now. I watched the butchering, the smell heavy in the air. My grandmother and her sisters worked over large pots, cooking whale meat and blubber. I ate it fresh, still hot from the pot. The taste was unlike anything else I have ever known.
Bequia Heritage Museum, Friendship Bay, Bequia · Thursday 15 May 2025
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iPhone 16 Pro back triple camera 6.765mm f/1.78 · 6.76 mm · f/1.8
And I remember what Uncle Athneal once said during one of his “on the stoop” chats:
“Once you’ve heard a whale cry from a harpoon hit, once you’ve heard a calf cry out for its mother—you are never the same. Never.”
Another display showcases the schooner Friendship Rose. The original greenheart rudder is mounted on site, with its iron brackets and faded blue antifouling paint. It was built in Bequia in 1966–67.
“The Friendship Rose was launched in June 1967 as a cargo vessel. In 1968 she was fitted with an engine and began carrying cargo, passengers and mail up and down the Grenadines.”
Later, she served as a charter boat, captained by her original skipper, Calvin Lewis. The rudder on display was retrieved from Admiralty Bay in 2017 and donated to the museum.
Below the museum’s boat exhibit, a set of concrete steps leads to a quiet patio shaded by a wooden pergola. From here, the view opens to the blue waters and hilly coastline of Bequia. Sunlight slips through climbing plants that cover the slatted roof, scattering shifting patterns of leaves across the tiled floor. Potted plants and flowering shrubs soften the edges, framing the open space with colour and shade.
Two curved wooden benches rest beneath the pergola. One, smooth and dark with a gently shaped seat and backrest, carries an inscription in memory of Morris Nicholson. It sits partly in dappled light near the foot of the steps, surrounded by green foliage. The other, also shaped in soft curves, honours Richard Dey, the poet of Bequia, with lines about the rising sun, Saint Hilaire Point, and the wind filling sails. Together they lend the space a quiet dignity, a place to pause and take in the view while remembering lives that shaped the island.
Morris Nicholson was a British-born charter-boat captain, artist, and craftsman who made Bequia his home from around 1954 until his death on 24 June 2020, living on the island for more than fifty years. Known for his seamanship, inventiveness, and enthusiasm, he became a well-loved figure in the community, contributing both his skills and his creativity to local life. Among his artistic works was _Demeter_ , a sculpture carved from local white cedar and sold at an Action Bequia fundraiser. His life was celebrated in a service of thanksgiving at the Evangelical Church in Port Elizabeth, honouring his long connection to the island and his deep commitment to its people.
As we left the pergola and its quiet memorials behind, the thought of departure settled in. There was packing to do before the ferry ride back to Kingstown. Tonight would be our last night in Bequia, and the island’s stories—like those of Morris Nicholson—felt all the more precious knowing we would soon be leaving them behind.
[^1] Contact information for the Bequia Heritage Museum: (784) 458-3800 or (784) 458-3510, bequiamuseum@vincysurf.com
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