There's a good reason you don't hear much about Dominica. Everyone who goes tries to keep it secret. "Hidden" in the Lesser Antilles between the excessively French and cosmopolitan islands of Guadalupe to the north and Martinique to the south, Dominica has remained the antithesis of everything going on in the Caribbean. You won't find a Ritz, Westin or Club Med, or a condo-crowded coast, only inns and small hotels run by people who pick you up in person. The island's natural resources are astounding, authentic and untrammeled. You'll find waterfalls dropping from nearly every precipice and one of the world's only boiling lakes. One of the Caribbean's last enclaves of Carib Indians exists in the rainforest here. Underwater, you'll explore some of the Caribbean's richest seascapes. In some places, the wall drops straight down to 3,000 feet just a few fin kicks from shore. On the reef, barrel sponges vie for space with thickets of orange elephant ear sponges, black corals, gorgonians, tube and stovepipe sponges, piles of crinoids, and sea rods. The macro world here comes at you like a crowded metropolis. On a recent trip, I went hunting for the creatures from the tiny kingdoms at a site called Easy Street, and got only as far as surveying three small coral heads because the area is flooded with life. And, as if that weren't enough to make you start packing, a pod of sperm whales resides here. On the way out, you'll be entertained by the Cirque du Soleil aerial shows put on by large schools of pantropic dolphins. Well, now the secret is out. Dang me and my big mouth.