Cay sera

'Welcome to Turks and Caicos!" yelled Mackie our speedboat driver as another wave crashed into our faces.

This was not how I had imagined we would arrive at Salt Cay, a tiny island 500 miles southeast of Miami. I picked some sea grass out of my teeth and smiled gamely. The speed boat was Plan B, when our flight from Providenciales, the capital, to Salt Cay was cancelled. It had sounded glamorous, in a James Bond kind of way. I had imagined myself, in a beautiful scarf and sunglasses, alighting stylishly in a remote tropical paradise.

Instead, dripping with seawater, we were deposited on the dock, very much in need of a cocktail. First impressions: this was no deluxe Caribbean pampering resort. Fishermen were gutting their catch where we loaded our suitcases into the flatbed truck belonging to Debbie, owner of Salt Cay Divers and general fixer. She drove us the 50 yards to Tradewinds, our accommodation. The water was very blue and very clear. A cow wandered by but did not show much interest in us. The road was unpaved.

Separated from the surf only by a few yards of sand, our apartment at Tradewinds was basic but comfortable. There was no swimming pool, but there were free bicycles. We had been to several other Caribbean destinations, but within the first few minutes it was apparent that we were in for a very different experience. As it almost never rains, we were advised to use water sparingly. Debbie explained that none of the 63 inhabitants on the island locks their doors, but advised us to secure the latch on our porch to prevent the wild donkeys from drinking from the bowl of water left there to wash the sand from our feet.

Our first meal at the Coral Reef, Debbie's casual restaurant on the dock, was a bit of a blur, thanks to jet lag and several bottles of local beer, but the fish dish - mahi-mahi with spicy vegetables - was cooked well. The island has its own way of doing things: guests run a tab at the local eateries, and settle up on departure. The restaurant offerings depend on the arrival of fresh produce by air and sea. You place your order in the afternoon, then turn up in the evening to eat, add it to your tab, totter the few steps home to sleep. Repeat.

As new arrivals, we were a curiosity, and several of the locals greeted us warmly. We stumbled back to Tradewinds under a starry sky and fell unconscious into the slightly lumpy bed. Aside from the whish of the breeze through the window, it was silent ... until dawn when we were awoken by a cockerel.

We clambered on to bicycles and rode off to explore the island. The sun reflected on the derelict salinas which used to produce massive quantities of salt for merchant ships. We stopped to greet a wild donkey, grazing calmly in the road. Then we heard a cheery "Good morning!" and a face peered over the wall of a whitewashed house. This was Pat, who, with her husband Henry, looked after the herd. They invited us into their cliff-side garden, where several donkeys regarded us curiously, including a small black foal. "This is Beauty," said Pat. "She likes to touch noses." I squatted down, and immediately had Beauty's soft muzzle in my face.

We made it back to the dock in time for the morning dive trip, after a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon and bagels at Coral Reef. The dive sites are close to shore, which made for a relaxed, easy morning. We experienced the usual delights of the Caribbean's underwater wonderworld, with a bonus. On our way to the dive site, a group of humpback whales surfaced near the boat, and we spent several minutes in a race with them until their awesome power took them out into the open ocean.

That evening, we went to Island Thyme, Salt Cay's gourmet dining establishment, run by Porter Williams and his wife Haidee (we had already been warned off Porter's Wolf cocktail, an evil-looking ice-blue mixture of unknown spirits, so named because of the howling that ensues). Coconut shrimp, the ultimate, huge shrimp bristling with fresh coconut in a slightly sweet batter, was followed by key lime cake and homemade mango ice cream. Buoyed by margaritas and somewhat sunburned, we ended the day very happy campers. It did feel a bit like camping, which I hate, but somehow I didn't mind it here.

And this was our routine for the next five days: cycling, diving, eating, drinking, sleeping. We hunted for sea glass on the empty white beaches, read trashy novels in hammocks slung between casuarina trees, snorkelled near the harbour, where a leatherback turtle was in residence. Nettie, who owns one of the two general stores, delivered bread fresh from the oven to our door in the morning. There was no TV, no night life beyond chatting with locals and other visitors over dinner. Within a few days, we felt part of the community, which was brought home to me one morning as we returned from our first dive. Pat strode into the surf to ask me if I knew of Beauty's whereabouts.

So it was with mixed feelings that we learned that Salt Cay is about to change forever. Over the next two years, the island will be developed into a 180-acre golf and spa resort, which will bring much-needed revenue. Most controversial are plans to build a large marina in place of the picturesque harbour. Property prices will soar, and luxury yachts, of the kind already festooning Grand Turk, will for the first time be able to dock at Salt Cay. Hopefully there will be a proper waste-disposal facility instead of the permanently smouldering rubbish pile at the south end of the island. The transport links and infrastructure will improve, and so will the average standard of living. And yet this is a classic tale of mixed blessings. Inevitably, people will start to lock their doors at night. The donkeys will be transported en masse to the Dominican Republic for fear that they will ruin the golf grass. With them will go a symbol of what life was like here, and will be no more.

Our return to civilisation included a stopover on Grand Turk. There was a swimming pool, there was a tiki bar, TV screens blared with sports matches. There were lots and lots of people. It was too busy, too noisy. I'd rather be nuzzling Beauty in the shade of a casuarina tree. Vanessa Lafaye

· British Airways (ba.com) flies direct Heathrow-Providenciales from £812 rtn. Air Turks & Caicos (airturksandcaicos.com) flies Providenciales to Salt Cay ($165 rtn) or Grand Turk ($135). A speedboat from Grand Turk to Salt Cay can be booked with Salt Cay Divers (+00649 946 6906, saltcaydivers.tc). Tradewinds (tradewinds.tc) offers seven nights in a deluxe suite sleeping four for $1,125. Salt Cay Divers has five days of two-tank dives and afternoon whale watching for $595pp. Further information: saltcay.org.

Five unspoilt Caribbean islands

Terre-de-Haut, Guadeloupe

Island life doesn't get more laid-back than on Les Saintes, a group of tiny islets off Guadeloupe. Terre-de-Haut has a pretty fishing village with a small market, but everything shuts at lunchtime. The hotel Auberge les Petits Saints aux Anacardiers is decorated in candy colours, with an antiques shop, art gallery and Creole restaurant.

· Rooms from €90 per night (00590 590 995099, petitssaints.com). Fly to Guadeloupe via Paris with American Airlines (americanairlines.co.uk, from around £700 rtn), then a ferry to Les Saintes (caribbean-direct.com), or a 15min flight with Air Caraibes (aircaraibes.com). See omtlessaintes.fr.

Mayaguana, Bahamas

Of the 700 Bahamas islands, Mayaguana, halfway between Florida and Puerto Rico, is one of the least developed, though there are rumours big resorts may be on their way. Its three villages are home to 400 locals, descendants of the first settlers who arrived in 1812 from the Turks islands. Gorge on fresh conch, watch the flocks of native boobies, swim, snorkel, drink rum, snooze.

· Baycaner Beach (00242 339 3726, baycanerbeach.com), the only hotel, has rooms from $122 per night. Flights from Nassau with Bahamasair (bahamasair.com), or cheap private charters (see bahamas.co.uk) or take the 14hr ferry (bahamasferries.com). Flights to the Bahamas with British Airways (ba.com from around £450).

Saba, Nether Antilles

This tiny rocky island, nicknamed the "unspoilt queen", rises sharply from the ocean 28 miles southwest of St Maarten. The diving and hiking over rainforested hills dotted with villages, up Hell's Gate and Mount Scenery, make up for the lack of a beach. The Saban-owned hotel, The Cottage Club, has gingerbread cottages and a pool.

· Doubles in the Cottage Club from $665 per week (0011 599 412 386 cottage-club.com). Air France (airfrance.co.uk) flies to St Maarten from around £600 rtn, then take the 20min Winair (fly-winair.com) flight to Saba, or the 1½hr ferry (stmaarten-activities.com).

Mayreau, Grenadines 

Mayreau island, west of the Tobago Cays and frilled with white sand, is the smallest of the inhabited Grenadines. Saltwhistle Bay Resort (001 784 458 8444, saltwhistlebay.com, from $140 a night full board) has eight cottages, and is the only hotel, or you can stay in Robert Righteous and De Youths' ([phone], robertrighteous.com, from $40 a night) cottage, run by the rasta owners of a fun local bar.

· Fly to Barbados or Antigua with British Airways (ba.com, from around £400 rtn), then to St Vincent with LIAT (around $200 rtn, liatairline.com). Fly on to Union Island with Grenadines Airways (grenadineairways.com, around $80 rtn), then transfer by boat to Mayreau. See svgtourism.com.

Corn Islands, Nicaragua

The two islands have just a few beach casitas which attract travellers doing laps of South America, rather than the yachting crowd. On Little Corn Island, Casa Iguana is self-sustained, and can organise diving, kayaking and kite-boarding.

· Cabanas from $35 a night, casaiguana.net. Fly to Managua with Continental (continental.com, from around £600 rtn), on to Big Corn Island with Atlantic Airlines (atlanticairlinesint.com), from around $160 rtn, then take a 30min water taxi. Gemma Bowes