Off to St. Barths … night sailing is, as you might imagine, very different from day sailing. Being on watch requires much more attention and there are more cruise ships and ocean liners to contend with. We left Antigua around 4:30 after fueling up with diesel and water (we hold non-drinkable water for sinks, showers, toilets etc, though we do have a desalinating pump on board to ‘make water‘ from the seawater but this also uses precious battery power) and navigated the somewhat narrow channels between the island and the offshore reefs until we were out in open sea just in time for sunset. Here we found very favorable winds (in speed and direction) so were able to shut off the motor fairly early. Cruising along under wind power only into the darkness of open seas is a fine feeling but after my first watch I needed to rest some as I would be back on watch again at 12midnight. I found that relaxing, however, did not come so easily when you are being tossed back and forth in your berth, often bracing various limbs against the surrounding ‘walls’ in an attempt to maintain some relative form of stillness. At one point I was jolted awake by a splash of seawater on my face from an open portside hatch (a tiny ova line window) that had been overlooked for whatever reason. Now I had to contend with wet pillows and sheets in addition to the constant rocking.
I was awoken somewhat refreshed nonetheless and went up for my solo, late-night watch. This far out from land the sky had become a celestial sea of stars, it’s entire expanse filled everywhere by infinitesimal points of light of varying brightness. Certain constellations stood out brazenly, burning brighter than in any memory of mine, while others disappeared into the dense clouds of stars of unfathomable distances. I could easily get lost in this … Wait. Focus. Keep an eye on those lights on the horizon. Is that one getting closer or farther? Cant really tell at this distance … which color is that one? Can’t fall asleep …

We had made great time and were approaching the capital port at Gustavia, just after sunrise, a few hours ahead of schedule. The harbor here was very crowded with boats (I got tired counting, getting close to 100 masts and this didn’t include the docks around the ‘corner’) and it took some time but we finally found a decent anchorage but needed some naptime to regain complete consciousness and a socially acceptable level of energy before checking in with customs.
St. Bart’s (short for Bartholemy’s en Francais) is a tiny (roughly 8 sq. miles) though affluent island with a picturesque main harbor, reminiscent of a Mediterranean seaport with orange roofed villas (gorgeous vacation homes most likely) freckling the cliffs and hillsides surrounding it’s clear blue waters. Originally a British, then French, then Spanish, then French again, then sold to the Swedes in the 18th c., then back to the French in the 19th c. The Swedes made it a free port during their tenure which meant that not only was the trading tax free (normally the Brits, French, Spanish, Dutch etc would take a cut in their respective colonies) it was unrestricted in regards to cargo making it a very popular destination for smugglers of booze, tobacco, guns etc as long as they could evade the Euro-Caribbean version of maritime police of neighboring islands. This, in addition to the natural beauty and accessibility of the port itself, most likely led to it’s popularity and prosperity over many, many years, though it seems to have taken on a much different character in the more recent century(-ies).
We dinghied over the beautiful blue waters (unusually so for a busy port) past boats of all shapes and sizes, though as usual we were on the smaller side, and around the bend that leads to the marina and main dockage point, finding an impressive array of beautiful yachts and their power cruising cousins, mega-yachts. These are privately owned boats that look more like small cruise ships and I’m told many are worth in the scores of millions of $$$. One can only imagine the lavish parties one could hold here for 100 or so of your closest friends and when everyone wakes up the next day in a haze announce, Hey guys! Guess what? We’re in Fiji! Have fun! Ok that’s an exaggeration but looking at these giants it almost looks possible.
In the town of Gustavia the main roads are busy with vehicles (some ATVs, motorbikes and scooters but mostly cars -- not only new ones but nice ones, not like the occasional old beaters and work vehicles we’d seen on the previous islands) and the main streets on the waterfronts are lined with jewelers, diamonds dealers, and hi-end retail boutiques with names like Gucci, Prada, Izod, Girbaud, Cartier, etc. Places we walked by knowing that we couldn’t even afford to look, not that I cared to. I also noticed that while in Antigua and Nevis (and from what my father had told me, all of the French West Indies south and somewhat east he had been to including Martinique, Guadeloupe, St. Lucia, etc) the resident population was almost entirely black (like over 95%) and here it seemed quite the opposite. It was a little strange but we did find a good lunch and people-watching spot and I got to wander away from the main strip a bit while Dad and Sharon took their internet time and found some quieter areas … a couple of 18th century churches, some simple houses with gorgeous ‘gardens’ & small trees flowering in vivid purples, oranges and yellow (garden in quotes only because they appeared almost as if they bloomed this way without any tending) and a small beach in a pristine and secluded looking cove. Things in general were very well organized and clean here and we did visit a fine supermarket where we picked up some items simply unavailable in the less visited harbors of other islands (baguettes, Spanish chorizo, some French cheeses … the prosperity and heavy tourist traffic here and certainly the French influence make for much finer selection of food and wine) and found to our shock full liter bottles of stoli for7.60 euro, roughly $10 US here. We’d been paying much, much more for Smirnoff (as we would in the US as well) so were pretty stoked and bought the last 3 bottles they had (Dad has to have his 6pm chilled vodka, even if it’s only one, and I never complain after a hot day). My favorite memory of St Barths though was on the boat watching a pair of sea turtles (the larger of the two must have been at least 3’ from head to tail and close to 2’ wide in the shell) swimminng back and forth just 20-30’ away. I had just gotten out from swimming only 10 mins before on the other side of the boat and saw them, and as I yelled to Dad and Sharon to come look they disappeared. Afraid that I had scared them I stayed on board hoping they would come back, and they did, numerous times. I so wish I had dove back in as it seemed that they were actually diving to feed and then were trawling back and forth alternately getting air and feeding for maybe 20 minutes. Beautiful and elegant creatures, and surprisingly swift in the water.
So we left St. Barth’s for St Martin’s (or Sint Maartens, depending on which side you are on) the next morning after our short visit. They are in relatively close proximity so our destination was in view for the duration and the waters are fairly shallow betwixt so remain beautifully Caribbean blue as well. A very pleasant sail, heading westward as we were and with wind and wave steady but not too heavy it was very relaxing.
I had been fairly diligent thus far in the liberal and frequent application of sunblock given my northern European pigmentation and the rainy San Francisco winter that I had been enduring for several weeks prior but I had apparently become a little cavalier in my attitude toward our sun god at this point. Perhaps I was seduced by the gentle and cooling sea breeze or the calm, nap-inducing rolling of the sea but I had been led astray and I was punished. Don’t get me wrong I applied the lotion at least twice that day but parts of my body (mainly my back and upper legs) were not so protected and had seen less exposure than others and I was flayed by the sun in a very short time. I’ve had much worse in my life but this mid-day exposure (with some sunscreen mind you) burned me lobster-red and didn’t take long; though somewhat painful it was more a stern reminder than a health issue.
The supposed legend of St Martin’s is that instead of fighting over the island the French and the Dutch, armed with a bottle of wine and a bottle of gin respectively, set off from the North and South ends of the island and drew the ‘line’ where they met in the middle (sort of). Since the Dutchman’s gin was more potent than the Frenchman’s wine the French got the larger portion of the island. We passed the southern (Dutch) port, and capitol, of Phillipsburg on our way around to the north. By far the longest beachfront I had seen thus far … gorgeous white sand and clear water but lined with large hotels and condos, though, nothing compared in size to the pair of cruise ships we saw docked there, the larger of which upon I counted 14 stories, not including the lookout towers up top or the probably 20-25 feet between the water and first set of portholes where I started counting. A virtual floating city.
We anchored in Marigot Bay, the major point of entry on the north (French side of the island) The city of M. Bay is busy with restaurants and cafes and an outdoor market of local arts and crafts, as well as a bank or rental cars dealers and ferry rides to other nearby islands, but it immediately felt more inviting than St. Barths. There was even a large indoor mall nearby though it didn’t appear to be very well used. Our first full day here we rented a car (a piece of crap really -- it was new enough but every time we touched something inside, sunshade, glove box etc it was broken) to run some errands on other parts of the island. After a marine supply shops, hardware stores etc we decided to visit Phillipsburg, the capitol and port we passed on the Dutch side. First, I think the roads here must have been built when there were perhaps a quarter of the amount of vehicles on the island because for a small island the traffic is horrendous.
Second, Phillipsburg was not worth the visit -- very tacky, lots of crappy stuff for sale (cheesy T-shirts etc), and felt crowded with people and cars and thus very hot and humid until we got to the beach. We had a decent lunch there but here it was also crowded with Cruise ship folks and tacky shops. There are plenty of places like McDonalds, Subway and the Hard Rock Café though in case you don’t get enough of that at home.
After this experience I decided to get away a little the next day so took a short hike up to the hilltop fort overlooking the entirety of Marigot Bay. Beautiful vistas in every direction and a fine breeze I stayed up here for a bit before wandering around the rest of town. The residential areas here are not so beautiful as the local population is somewhat impoverished, at least by US standards, though I still found brightly flowering trees and tropical fruit hanging in yards here and there, and occasionally ran into a rooster, rummaging about or proudly guarding his domain.
We enjoyed it here so stayed for 4 days, planning to leave on another night sail for Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, but ran into a couple snags on our last day so had to stay another full day and leave the following night. This would have been somewhat upsetting as I was looking forward to getting to and having more time to explore other areas but it turned out to be somewhat of a blessing as I got to eat at a little outdoor Creole restaurant I had been eying but found closed on Sat & Sun (I had the ox tail stew, meat falling off the bone, served with a rice, black beans & black eyed peas mixture, seasoned almost like a gumbo, fried plaintains, a little side of fettucine with butter and a small salad. Deee-licious! Along with the traditional accoutrements and condiments each table had a jar of homemade hot sauce, which I enjoyed but could only stand a little. Yes, Scott, I’m bringing some back for you. The place is called Rosemary‘s and she was a most gracious hostess), and my Dad and I realized after waiting for a couple different marina representatives to return from their lengthy lunch breaks, this was the night of the NCAA basketball finals! Time to find someplace with a television, and cable, but we hadn’t seen either in the previous 4 days … We eventually discovered that we had to head to the Princess Casino, just over the border on the Dutch side of the island. A fairly short cab ride, the casino looked like a massive resort as we approached, probably going half a mile from it’s gates to the entrance. Not much happening here on a Monday night and it took us a while to find a tv that was showing basketball. The most interesting part about this place though was the ‘host’, Vincent, who looked a bit like an older, pudgier, and much friendlier Biggie Smalls. He was constantly walking around greeting acquaintances and strangers alike with a hand shake and a smile, holding a wireless mic and it took me a long time before I realized that the musical soundtrack wasn’t a recording but Vincent singing along with a piano player on the far side of the huge tables room (a huge slots room occupied the other half, which also had a long curving stairway to a darkened upper level bearing a large pink neon since which read ‘Secrets’ in slowing cursive lettering. Hmmm?). This guy was good. He knew every word of every song from the get-go and moved seamlessly from his hellos and conversation to the next verse of the song as it began. He sat down with us for a bit and was asking me some of the details about the rules of the game and as I answered him - boom - suddenly he was at the mic, Lionel Richie again, heard throughout the whole casino. Oh yeah - as you probably know, Uconn won a very sloppy game, but we had both been rooting for them so we were cheery and we made it back to the boat in the dark just in time to beat out a storm that made everything on the boat shake and aroused a clamorous din of wildly snapping rope and clanking cables.
Finally Tues night we embarked on another long night sail to Tortola, as we were making our way westward toward Puerto Rico where my flight back to S.F. would be leaving. We had wind and waves behind us so it was a fairly decent sail but the wind was consistent in neither direction nor knottage so it wasn’t as smooth as our prior night-sail to St Barths. The inconsistent winds make for a bit of a herky-jerky ride, if you will, and that being so, I got very little sleep until after my final shift around 6:30am. I won’t waste too much of your time on this as the 2 nights we spent here was too long and none of us left with any love for Roadtown, Tortola, the capital of B.V.I. Considering that it’s one of the main entry ports for one of the most highly visited areas of the Caribbean it simply isn’t set up well for yacht cruising, with no obvious nor convenient dingy docking areas,(we walked close to a mile along a hot & busy road, much of which had no sidewalk, to get to customs/immigration,) an extremely rude *%#* of an immigrations agent, and a fairly commercial town without much of a center for visitors needs. There were, however, fleets and fleets of charter yachts available here, as well as scuba dive trips but these are both activities undertaken off of the island. We all felt that in the future if a similar cruising path were to be taken that we would sail on to St John or St. Thomas (both U.S.V.I.) a few hours longer despite our exhaustion after the long sail.
Saying an overdue goodbye to Tortola, we continued west past the USVI and on to Culebra, about 20 miles off the coast of Puerto Rico and part of the Spanish V.I. (and technically part of P.R. thus technically part of the U.S.). About an 8 hour trip, delayed about an hour when we accidentally picked up a trap of some kind (lobster maybe?) in our rudder and were pulling some fairly heavy additional weight and more troubling were worried the line may get caught up in the propeller. We had to stop the engine, drop the sails and turn almost 180 into the wind to attempt to stop the boat. All attempts to drag and cut the line with a knife (not sure how deep down that metal cage was but if it were for lobsters, being bottom dwellers it was over 100’ and there was a lot of pressure on that line) were failing so Dad began the precarious task of removing and cutting with shears the line from underneath the boat in over 100 ft. of water amidst probably 6’ swells, much to the dismay and vocally expressed concern of Sharon and myself. This however proved successful in the end and we were off again, though I was feeling pretty ill from all of the bouncing around with the boat not moving, and watching my father in that somewhat perilous undertaking. After all of this, Culebra, was a most welcome sight to say the least.
We had heard that the Spanish Virgins (the isles, that is) were much less spoiled by development and commercialism and found the quiet and beautiful port of Ensenada Honda to be ideal in this respect. Well protected and uncluttered with boats and relatively few lights on the shore we ate and watched the sunset to the sound of waves gently lapping against the hull, the occasional family dog barking or rooster crowing on shore and a light cooling breeze.
After a nice breakfast with some very helpful folks at the Dinghy Dock Restaurant and Bar (its wooden porch literally serves as both dock and restaurant floor) and a short walkabout to get to customs at the ‘airport’, more of an airstrip really, we were all quite enamored with the relaxed and friendly attitude here on Culebra and I was beginning to feel sad that my trip was nearing an end as I could easily imagine spending a week or more here. After checking out the small main part of the town of Dewey (mainly one loop a couple small blocks on each side and a pier on the end) we stopped at a little place called Mamacita’s with a couple thatched roofed sitting areas and a small bar overlooking the canal which connects our bay, E. Honda, to the smaller bay on the other side which flows back out to the Caribbean Sea. The food here smelled delicious but we were full after a large and late breakfast so just enjoyed the shade and some cold beer. A giant iguana (probably 4’ from head to the tip of it’s long tail) lazed in the sun by the waterside but a sign warned us not to feed these prehistoric looking reptiles. There were, however, some massive Tarpin (silvery blue fish, these were 3-4 ft long, but are supposedly too bony to eat) being tossed French fries from tables of people who had had their fill.
I had originally planned and was looking forward to meeting my friend, Isreal, in Puerto Rico the following day but having not heard back from him for the previous few days and not getting an answer at the local # he had given me, I serendipitously realized that I would have a couple extra days here on Culebra so my Dad and I took the dinghy out to a few spots a couple of miles down the coast for some snorkeling. On our way we realized suddenly that we were approaching a massive sea turtle, larger than any I had seen thus far, lunging forward over a wave, front flippers fully extended, the light and dark green Rorschach patterns on its shell wet and shining in the sun. It took a few more strides then dove down when we were about 10’ away.
Though I had swam around checking out fish (if I was lucky) near our boat anchorages a few times this was my first real reef snorkeling, and my first real snorkeling since summer camp on a small Adirondack lake when I was maybe 11 years old, and I was amazed. I felt like a child cruising around a small underwater amusement park, ooohing and aaahing every time I turned my head. I’m not familiar with any of the names of the types of fish, coral, or vegetation I saw but the sheer numbers and variety of colors and shapes of the marine life was awe-inspiring. At one point I turned around and found myself suddenly surrounded by a swarm of bright blue fish , perhaps 60 or 70 of them I guess, with a dozen or two similarly shaped and sized but orange and purple guys trailing around the lower regions of the school. That was this afternoon. I have one more day here before I head to Puerto Rico proper, then back home, and my tentative plan is to rent a bike and ride around the island as much as possible, visit the national wildlife refuge and carry some snorkeling gear (thanks Lindsey!) checking out beaches and looking for coral.
It’s been an amazing trip so far and while I’m looking forward to certain comforts upon my return I definitely feel I could use a bit more of this … If I’ve gained any wisdom from my travels here I would like to leave you with this: In rough seas, do not attempt a standing piss; and more importantly, when traveling, particularly sailing, try not to plan too much, it will go how it goes. Hope to see you all soon.