Looking off the north shore of St. Croix toward Buck Island, a park area much enjoyed by divers.














St. Croix is one of the few places we have been which has had the foresight to guarantee public access to the island's beaches. We were introduced to Carambola Beach, nestled between hills and reached through one of the resorts, on an overcast windy day.









Here we stand at the Eastern most end of the island, thanks to our friends Lynne and Dave on Kittywake.












The schooner Roseway worked hard, taking school children and sometimes other groups out for a few hours of sailing. We would hear visitors aboard and crew as they raised the sails going down the channel - "Heave!" "Ho!", call and response setting the rhythm for hauling on the lines. Here she is returning as the sun sets behind the hills around Christiansted.







The old Customs House on the waterfront welcomed those coming to pay their dues with a graceful stairway and pleasant exterior - perhaps that made the task less painful?










An abandoned windmill sits by the boardwalk in Christiansted, overlooking the many dinghies tied up along the waterfront while their owners are busy ashore. Number of dinghies aside, things feel quieter here than in St. Maarten, more relaxed.

St. Croix, USVI

Sint Maarten is far enough from St. Croix to make the trip an overnight sail, so we set off on a mid-March thursday morning hoping to arrive in St. Croix with the sun the next day. We were picking up NOAA forecasts on our SSB (we could listen even though we could not transmit) and conditions sounded good for a brisk but comfortable trip. As it turned out we should have kept in mind how many times winds forecast by NOAA were lower than the winds we sailed through. That night they touched thirty knots and we spent some time hove to; conditions were rough for a while and sleep was not high on the priority list. Daylight found us sailing briskly again, and then the wind became lighter and blew from behind. It was approaching evening by the time we came past Buck Island off the north shore of St. Croix on our way to the harbour at Christiansted. Reefs and multiple channels meant that we had to pay attention on our way in until finally we found a spot to drop anchor among other boats moored and anchored off the marina there - just before darkness came.

Dates and holidays often slide by us, as we were reminded when we checked in. Since it was a Saturday, we had to call customs to announce our arrival and be given instructions. They were simple; we met the customs officer about an hour later, going in by dinghy to the gated customs compound on the far side of the marina. Customs formalities were completed quickly, and then we sat and waited for immigration officials who came as soon as they finished their work with commercial vessels in another harbour. That took an hour or so, and we passed the time chatting with the customs officer. That was when we found out that it was St. Patrick’s Day and there was a big parade in this U.S.V.I. town with its Danish and Caribbean heritage to mark the occasion, complete with floats and bands andlotsof green. Time spent waiting passed quickly; our customs officer had travelled around the islands by plane and chartered sailboat, and we swapped stories of weather and people met. Formalities were rapidly completed once the immigration officials arrived, and by noon we were checked in and back on the boat.

The St. Patrick's Day parade sounded like fun, but back at the boat food and tidying up took priority over going ashore right away. By the time we took our dinghy in to the marina and walked in past the fishermen’s beach to Christiansted the great St. Patrick’s Day Parade was just about over, though there was still a festive atmosphere and lots of green around - green clothes, green paint on bodies and faces, green hats and scarves. There were people everywhere: children were happily collecting bead necklaces given away from some of the floats; families and friends were meeting and mingling. Many of the adults had enjoyed the liquid refreshment available, and some were feeling quite relaxed... Walking through town we found a free concert outside one of the bars on the waterfront, lots of dinghies jostling for space along the pier side of the boardwalk, a large mooring field occupying the space we had originally thought about anchoring in, a convenience store with bread and cold drinks. By the time we were walking back the cleanup crews were hard at work, and streets were being restored to their normal state. Our first impression of St. Croix was that here was a rich and unexpected mixing of cultures, an outwardly quiet place leavened by a large dose of energy and creativity. Here was an American territory where cars drive on the left (or in the middle), with a Danish heritage and links to Europe as well as the continental United States and a forward-looking policy of allowing public access to the beaches and encouraging links to the sea - integral parts of any island’s culture. Efforts here include encouraging children to learn about the sea and sailing and on weekdays we watched the graceful schooner Roseway take groups of school children out, crew and children working together to raise the sails as they went down the channel and out of the harbour.

The Roseway was only one of the boats that travelled in and out. There were also small cargo ships, the almost daily ferry, dive boats taking divers out to the reefs, day-tripping catamarans and a trimaran, local fishing boats and what looked like some would-be racing power boats, some more noisy than speedy and others frighteningly unstable as their occupants worked to balance heavy, powerful engines and light hulls. There was an abundance of birds, and it was here that we first watched the Brown Boobies dive like jets into the water, wings and body one straight line streaking downward, and then emerge eating. Then there were the swimming horses. Richard spotted one on a calm day, something strange in the water between the beaches by the anchorage - it took us a while to be sure we were looking at a horse. A few days later we saw others. When we met a beautiful little mare and her handler on the road one day we learned they were from a racing stable just up the hill from the marina and this was part of their training. Even the horses have their links to the sea!

As in most of the islands, tourism is one of the linchpins of the economy - but only one, and we found the development of tourist facilities both less intrusive and more integrated into island life than it had been in Sint Maarten. Add to that a rich mix of cultures and heritages and the sense of independence often found on a small island, and you have a place where the island culture is celebrated, creativity flourishes, most people greet visitors with a friendly pride, and there always seems to be something interesting happening. Not as many cruisers come here, but it isn’t surprising that many of those who do linger.

During the next few weeks we found our way to a couple of the galleries in Christiansted, and were lucky enough to meet the artist Preston Doane at the showing of some of his pictures at the Maufe Gallery. It was an interesting exhibit, based on a series of paintings in which he explores a part of St. Croix’s heritage - the Danish involvement in the slave trade and sugar, and the links between Denmark, Africa and St. Croix. His pictures were rich in symbolism and meaning, and he took the time to talk about how he had come to conceive the idea for them and about the meanings of the symbols he had used and the story he was telling. His being there enriched our experience of that exhibit immeasurably.

Another highlight of our time in St. Croix was being shown around the island from the dry east to the rain forested west and seeing many interesting spots in between. We met our escorts while looking at another Alberg 30 sitting in the boatyard at the marina. They were sitting on their own boat on the hard across from the Alberg - we started talking, they offered us information, practical help and finally friendship, and were happy to show us around this island they had adopted as home. We went driving with them one day when conditions were rough and rolly in the anchorage and it felt good to spend time on a surface that stayed still. With them we skirted the oil refinery close to Cane Garden; saw the Contessa’s house, looking more like a castle on its perch on top of a hill; stopped at the monument marking the easternmost part of the island with its views of the coast and Buck Island; visited beautiful beaches and saw other anchorages; and saw the contrasts in environment and living conditions between different areas of the island. The drought which was hitting hard in the east seemed hardly evident in the west; mansions in the hills overlooked the valleys and coasts and contrasted with small houses and crowded yards around the towns; graceful historical buildings in town contrasted with the modern, well-stocked, mainland-style supermarkets and stores a car ride away.

There was much to absorb,and as always, time passed quickly. Hurricane season was less than two months away. By the beginning of April we were looking for a weather window for our trip to Miami. The promise of three days of winds out of the south east were tempting, so we checked out the afternoon before and early on the first Friday in April we said good-bye to St. Croix and set off on a downwind sail toward Miami.

Pictures from Sint Maarten

Beach bars were common along the board walk in Philipsburg, and on the streets just behind it. As well as being colorful, this one obviously had a Canadian connection - advertising "Ice Cold Beer, eh!"









A walk along the main street behind the board walk took us into this part of Philipsburg where locals live and shop.







One of the reasons tourists visit - the beach. Chairs and umbrellas available - for a fee and a tip. If you did not want to pay, you might be able to find a spot to lay out your towel... This was where the wi-fi was as well, free in some spots or associated with different restaurants in others.








There was an organization which took people out on the 12 Meter race boats which were once used in America's Cup racing. Here is one of the Stars and Stripes (we saw two, plus a model) slicing through the water. They are still elegant and fast and a pleasure to watch sailing.









One of the locally built boats is perched on the beach in Grand Case, propped up and waiting to be put in the water.













Grand Case, on the French side, was a small town with a street lined with restaurants, galleries and shops and a beautiful little beach. We were lucky enough to share an excellent meal at one of the restaurants here with our daughter and her fiance.

Sint Maarten/St. Martin

We had a wonderful sail to Sint Maarten, arriving off the island long before we meant to, and in the dark. Generally we avoid entering a new harbour at night, so we hove to off the coast - and thereby hangs a tale. Running lights and instruments consume power. Our batteries were running low, so Richard started the engine to charge them. As he turned the engine off, he accidentally hit a nearby button which turned off our running lights. Our navigation lights flashed off and back on - and that flash caught the attention of the coast guard, who decided they needed to investigate. So Margaret, off-watch and sleeping, woke to find that we had been boarded by three men with guns from a boat which approached from behind with no lights... Thankfully, the crew which came aboard was professional and businesslike and quickly concluded that we were not carrying anything but ourselves and our provisions. But the incident reminded us that there is an ongoing problem with the traffic of illegal immigrants and goods between the islands. And we also learned that thanks to the mix of cultures here and the importance of the tourist trade you are more likely to hear English in Sint Maarten than any other language.

Our visitors left and we continued to wait. Come daylight we sailed in and dropped anchor in Groot Baai, and Richard went ashore to complete the usual formalities. There was only one hitch: no-one he talked to seemed to know where he was supposed to go - just that it was not wherever he was. In the end it was easier to pull up anchor and make the short sail to Simpson Baai to check in there before heading back to Groot Baai for some well-earned rest. Explorations waited for the next day.

Groot Baai turned out to be an interesting place. With nothing quite as described in the pilot, we resorted to the usual technique when we needed information - ask another cruiser. We soon moved close to where the long-term/local boats were anchored to escape the rather rolly conditions further out. The dinghy dock when we found it on our third trip to shore turned out to be a rather dilapidated structure close to one of the water taxi docks; unappealing, but conveniently close to stores and the complex of booths, restaurants and stores along the waterfront boardwalk. At least it was there when we first arrived - after we spent a week in Simpson Baai visiting with one of our daughters and her fiancé we returned to Groot Baai to find the dinghy dock gone, construction all around it, and cruisers docking their dinghies wherever they could. At that point we opted for pulling up on the fishermen’s beach, after making sure that we would not be in anyone’s way.

The town of Philipsburg lies around Groot Baai. From the water it seems built around the tourist trade from the cruise ships that visit daily, sometimes five or six at a time while we were there, and the waterfront hotels and resorts. When the cruise ships arrive the harbour starts to hum with activity. Water taxis run between the cruise ship dock and the town pier, large catamarans and smaller dive boats line up to take passengers for excursions, the resident 12 metres take groups out to sail and “race”. On shore, chairs and umbrellas are set up and personal water craft are wheeled out for rental. In front of stores and restaurants staff stand encouraging passers-by to come in. Competition is fierce, everything has a price and everyone expects a tip. The “hat and bag” ladies move along the beach and board walk, trying to sell their towels that turn into bags and the hats they wear stacked on their heads - a hard job, since they are often ignored, and even those who respond are not always friendly. The only service we found that was free we found by chance - wi-fi, if you accessed the right service from the right place along the beach.

Moving away from the main tourist area takes you into a different world, where the rhythms are quieter and the influence of the many groups which live here more obvious - Dutch school, Haitian eateries, Afro-Caribbean galleries, houses and stores and businesses side by side, a mixture of languages. On one of our walks along Front Street, the main road which runs behind the boardwalk we came upon one of those happy finds - the relatively new Le Saint-Geran Art Gallery. It sits in a small plaza, across from the Oranje School, its bright exterior promising visitors a chance to enjoy the works of local artists and crafters. Our first glance showed that the pictures in the window included more than the usual tourist fare; inside we were drawn first to the inlaid wood pictures of Jean-Pierre Straub, beautifully and subtly executed using a very wide variety of woods in a myriad of shades and grains, so well done that first you notice beauty of the pictures and only afterward recognise the knowledge, art and craftsmanship behind their production. Other pictures drew our attention, work by a range of artists working in different styles and on a variety of themes but united by the common focus on their links to and work in Sint Maarten and the Caribbean. Patricia and Dany Ramsami are the hearts and minds behind the gallery. Dany was there when we visited, friendly and knowledgeable and happy to share with us and other visitors what he knew about the art and artists we looked at. We quickly found out that he had been involved the art world for years; he was passionate about art in general and as well as about art in Sint Maarten/St. Martin in particular, supportive of artists and understanding of their work, and quick to share information that was useful to a visiting artist. The gallery reflects that passion for art, and we enjoyed our visits there so much we decided to put a link to the gallery in the side bar so that you can enjoy it too.

The week we spent in Simpson Baai showed us a different side of Sint Maarten. We were among those who anchored in the bay itself, including some of the megayachts - many more boats of all sizes and types were anchored in the lagoon. The whole area is full of cruisers and the atmosphere is very cruiser friendly. Many boats anchor inside the lagoon, where there are many businesses easily accessed from the water, and many dinghy docks are filled by visiting cruisers taking advantage of being able to find all kinds of services and buy boat parts at reasonable prices. One of the fullest dinghy docks was in front of Shrimpy’s, the restaurant from which the morning cruiser’s net originates. There area cruisers find internet access along with food, drink, laundry facilities and friendly help and advice. We had the pleasure of a small QCYC reunion at Shrimpy’s - Kim and David on Amanzi and Ann and Steve on Recetta happened to be in Simpson Baai lagoon while we were anchored outside. Shortly afterward everyone took off in different directions.

The trip between Groot Baai and Simpson Baai was enlivened by a close look at ABN AMRO, the sailboat that can do 42 knots. She was certainly roaring along at high speed when we saw her. We made the trip between the bays in brisk winds at about 7 knots under a reefed main; they were moving much faster under spinnaker, racing in the Big Boat Races in the Heineken Regatta. Winner of the 2005-06 Volvo Ocean Race, her brightly coloured paint job and speed certainly made her stand out here. Statistics for those interested: 70.5 feet long, 18 feet wide, her mast is 103.3 feet above the water and her keel 15 feet below it. On the move she is a very impressive sight.

We had originally planned to anchor in Marigot Bay, on the French side of the island, but north swells coming into the anchorage encouraged us to make our base on the Dutch side instead. In the end we visited St. Martin briefly by car, spending an afternoon in the town of Marigot and an evening in Grand Case. Our time there was agreeable, a quick round of small galleries and boutique shops in Marigot and a walk and a visit to an excellent restaurant in Grand Case where a look at the anchorage and beach convinced us that this would be a very nice place to stop for a while when next we visit the island. Because we certainly will be back.

Pictures from Nevis

Pinney's Beach, off which we were anchored during our stay in Nevis. The water was beautiful and clear, ideal for swimming in during the day. The beach was enjoyed by locals and visitors alike, except where two hotels staked their claim to its charms.









On Charlestown's main street old and new mix as traffic flows between businesses housed in older two-storey buildings. They give the feeling of a town which has embraced things more modern without losing its links to its past.










U2Fast was one of the local fishing boats; others had names like Easy Does It and I Am Light. The boats may have been a traditional design, but they were powered by outboards, often in pairs, and moved briskly through the anchored boats morning and evening on the way to and from town.








Looking down from Golden Rock toward the ocean - we came past this coast on our way from Antigua.













In Nevis we visited Golden Rock, a suggestion from fellow cruisers. It is on a former plantation in the coolness of the hills. Various of the old buildings are now converted to other uses - restaurant, guest quarters - and is a pleasant place to visit.









Mount Nevis, with the cloud that almost always hovers over it and Cherub, Paul Johnson's boat, in the foreground.

Chilling in Nevis

We left Antigua early in the morning, but not quite early enough - we arrived in Nevis in the early evening darkness. The lights from their stadium shone out toward the sea, robbing us of our night vision and we made the turn in toward the harbour earlier than we should have. So when we suddenly found ourselves in an (uncharted) mooring field we decided to drop anchor, made sure we were clear of everything around us, and went to bed. Better to figure things out in the morning.

Early morning light showed us that we had anchored on the town side of the Charlestown pier among local boats, within sight of the anchorage we had picked on our chart. So we upped anchor and made our way past the town pier to a spot off Pinney’s Beach under Nevis Peak before Richard dinghied back to town to look after the formalities of checking in. Clearing in did not take long. With Into The Blue swinging on her anchor just a short dinghy ride from shore we tidied up and by afternoon were heading for the beach to take a look around and begin to get the feel of this island.

It did not take long to walk in to Charlestown, Nevis’ capital. And we found that walking through Charlestown does not take long either - unless you stop to visit the museum, or to see the pictures in the Cafe des Arts, or browse through some of the stores for clothes or souvenirs... Two supermarkets lay at the other end of town, and there was a Chinese grocery store in the middle; there was less expensive internet access close to the supermarkets, as well as an air-conditioned internet cafe closer to the beach (internet access came in the more or less expensive categories - no free wi-fi here). And on the beach itself was the Double Deuce Beach Bar - music all day, pleasant and cruiser friendly, offering cold drinks and good food (though not breakfast, no matter what the sign says - opening late for dinner and drinks and karaoke night makes it a little difficult to get up in time for that). We took notes from the cruising guide they kept on the counter, a great source of information particularly when combined with the knowledge offered by other cruisers, but found out too late about the fresh water outdoor shower we could have used. Next time we’ll know.

Double Deuce is where we met Paul Johnson, who at eighteen sailed across the Atlantic in a dinghy. Now eighty-two, he was aboard Cherub, a double-ended gaff-rigged boat of his own design. He built her to be fast and stable at speeds above theoretical hull speed. Because, he said, he liked to sail fast and enjoyed sailing along the fronts of storm systems where he could whip along at twelve knots or so. The only disadvantage was that sailing like that was a little rough, and his crew tended to leave ship after these episodes. We will remember Paul Johnson, but he probably won’t remember us - we would have been among the many faces at the bar where he enjoyed telling stories and downing largish amounts of alcoholic beverages.

PInney’s Beach was a very nice place to swim and walk and just generally relax and unwind. Other cruisers came and went, charter boats visited, the local fishermen came through a couple of times a day - the route of some of the local boats seemed to vary depending on whether there were any clothing optional boats at anchor at the time. From time to time small cruise ships visited, anchoring out at sea and ferrying their passengers in to Charlestown. Even the Maltese Falcon made a brief stop, as you’ll see from our pictures.

Our trips ashore were very pleasant - friendly greetings, friendly faces, people who welcomed and were glad to help visitors. Our visit to Golden Rock, a former sugar estate in the hills, confirmed this feeling. We went on the recommendation of cruisers we met - a chance to see a little more of the island and perhaps get a picture of the monkeys there. We took the bus from Charlestown, making sure to ask if it was the bus (otherwise it might become a taxi, our friends told us). Knowing we were visitors, the driver went out of his way to drop us closer to where we wanted to go (with the agreement of his passengers). An uphill walk along a winding tree-lined road took us to a pleasant restaurant, where we enjoyed a cold drink and caught a glimpse of the monkeys thanks to the kind ladies who served us - but no pictures, the monkeys never came close enough for pictures. The ladies told us that the monkeys, once pets of the well-to-do, are now pests that raid gardens and garbage for food.

Later we caught the bus back from the local gas station where the lady proprietor also sold cold drinks and snacks from a small store, including home made coconut pastries she made herself. They were very good. She helped make sure we caught the right bus back to Charlestown, and wished us a good journey as we left. Her wishes must have stayed with us right up to our sail to Sint Maarten, since it was one of those fast beam reaches the Alberg 30 seems made for.

The weather changed. A surge developed, the waves making it difficult to land the dinghy on the beach and risky to tie up at the town dock. We were coming to the end of the time we had meant to stay anyway - everything suggested it was time to move on. Checking out formalities were quickly and efficiently completed the afternoon before we left, even though the power went off and forms were filled out in the dim light of an unlit office. The next morning we watched Paul Johnson leave, hauling up his anchor and raising his sails by hand before sailing off on his way south - maybe to Curacao, he said. It was a pleasure to watch Cherub under way. There is something very graceful in the lines of those gaff-rigged sails as they fill with the wind. After he vanished into the distance we pulled up our own anchor and set off ourselves for an overnight sail to Sint Maarten and the prospect of new places to explore.

Jolly Harbour, Antigua

From the anchorage we could look out to sea, toward Montserrat, Redonda and Nevis. Here the sun is setting; Montserrat peeks from behind the point which helps shelter us.











Most Saturdays there was all-comers racing out of the Jolly Harbour Marina. Our first weekend there we saw the racing fleet sailing out past (and through) the anchorage. Talk about seeing racing up close - there were times we were in the middle of it!









The brown pelicans often perched on the channel marker not too far from us, to groom themselves and rest. Sometimes the wind was strong enough to unbalance them as they perched there...












Every now and then we caught a glimpse of how the other half lives - this mega-yacht paid a visit to the facilities in Jolly Harbour, feeling its way slowly in along the channel. Wonder if the helicopter meant that the owner was on board?









Looking toward the island from where we were anchored, Jolly Harbour in the foreground and the hills fading back into the distance.