White sand, getting wet - and frigates

We last left off as we closed in on St Bart’s, and what a long time ago that feels! It’s a small island, about 4 miles by 2 miles, quite hilly, but not mountainous like St Lucia, Dominica and Martinique. As many will know, it seems to be known for being a bit of a celeb/rich people/ritzy glitzy sort of a place – Sue had a list of recent visitors that I was clearly supposed to be impressed by. We arrived off the capital, Gustavia, and after a while threading through the crowded anchorage, found a place to drop our hook. The next morning we took the dinghy into the harbour for the usual check-in formalities and a quick look around. It’s a bit like Les Saintes in Guadaloupe – very lovely, but just not very Caribbean. Every other car’s a mini convertible, the restaurants and shops are terribly up market and the streets are perfectly kept. We did manage to find a great restaurant for dinner that night that didn’t require mortgaging the children! Here’s Sue waiting for clear-in by one of the many flashy motor yachts.

We spent the next few days moving to a fabulous anchorage in the marine park on the north coast - including a great hike round to the Atlantic coast – and then round to the south coast off a couple of amazing wild beaches. We were very lucky to have a few nights with an unusual gentle northerly wind, so were able to anchor overnight where usually one can’t.

One evening we were in a cove called Grande Saline and, having gone ashore to the beach for a couple of hours in the afternoon, were confident about booking a restaurant a few hundred metres inland for dinner. Sometime later and dressed for the occasion (Posh shorts, ironed shirt, etc), we pottered back to the beach – in the dark. The earlier pussy-cat swell on the shore had become somewhat louder, but when asked ‘what’s the plan here’ the skipper confidently said ‘we’ll just get a good small wave and be fine’. We didn’t, and walked into the restaurant absolutely soaked from the armpits down. Nice dinner though.

Our last day in St Bart’s required as to go back to Gustavia to clear-out again. This being ‘France’ we went with several large empty shopping bags and a long list. The food shops were generally catering to the super yacht fraternity (smoked salmon, caviar, expensive claret, etc) but we did get a really nice baguette (€5!) and a few bottles of wine.. Next stop, Anguilla.

A brisk 25M sail NW, passing St Martin, brought us to Road Bay, Anguilla. What a difference! Very laid back and simple. Road Bay is the only port – there were a few fishing boats, some small local boats and 6 or 7 visiting yachts. The customs/immigration people were charming - and apologetic that the printer wasn’t working, neither was the credit card machine, so the cruising fee was waived away with a smile.

The next day we motored north 5 miles in light airs to Prickly Pear Cays – a couple of tiny islands with the whitest sand you can imagine, tacked onto the end of a long reef. Absolutely stunning, and as it wasn’t windy we managed a drone shot too.

This was as far north as we are going to get for now. Anguilla feels remote and developed at the same time. The beaches are extraordinarily beautiful – white and and turquoise sea – some are wild, some have hotel developments. The interior is untouched and very quiet. We hired a car for a day to explore – the island is geologically very old and has been eroded by wind and weather so that is now quite flat (with all that white sand!) So different from Dominica and the other mountainous, lush islands we visited just a few weeks ago.

With only a couple of weeks before we had to be in Antigua to head home, it was time to leave Anguilla and turn back towards Antigua – but we really wanted to see Barbuda first. Barbuda is about 80 miles SE of Anguilla and this is usually a sail into the wind*, so we had been watching the weather for a window with more favourable weather. We had our window, but the 24 hours before would be very strong winds from the west (completely wrong direction in the W Indies) and involve rain, a lot of rain. This meant we had to get out of Road Bay and find a protected shore – The East coast of St Martin fitted the bill, so off we headed into the building wind and made rapid progress** to Oriental Bay. As we dropped the hook, the heavens opened, daylight turned into dark, the wind howled - and we felt very lucky with our timing! The anchorage was perfect, and for 36 hours it rained. The day after we arrived we bailed-out the dinghy, donned our foul weather gear and pottered ashore. Plans for an energetic walk were curtailed by an increased downpour, but lunch was probably the best meal of our trip so far! Drinks with some cruising friends that evening were taken down below.

The next morning, the wind had shifted to the north as promised. We were up early and weighed anchor just after 0600 and headed into the sunrise. We unfurled the sails and had a blast*** all the way to the southern end of Barbuda, anchoring off Cocoa Point just after 1600.

Next morning we realised that Cocoa Point is partly a building site and that the surf would make beaching the tender treacherous (worse than the ‘from the armpits down’ incident), so we headed a mile or two west and threaded our way**** through a reef to anchor behind its protection, off a lovely beach.

Our first day in Barbuda started with the ritual visit to customs and immigration – two lovely men who seemed to combine their formal roles with fishing, or something. The taxi driver who took us there (down the island main road – Route 1, there is no Route 2 – and it’s is a dirt track) called them up for us (there are 1600 inhabitants, and they all know each other). We then went to the Art Café, run by the lovely Claire – lunch combined with island history lesson. After which, a stroll through Codrington Village (where almost everyone lives) and then back to the boat.

Which brings us to today. This morning we dinghied ashore to get a ride to the dock in Codrington on the (huge) lagoon. There we were met by George Jeffery, who took us on a tour of the lagoon with the highlight being the frigate bird colony – a brilliant, extraordinary experience. Then back to our anchorage – some beach time and snorkel exploration of the reef, which was a little disappointing - still wearing its damage from hurricane Irma in 2017, as is the island generally.

This time next week we will be back at home - and not looking forward to the weather! But in the meantime we have the rest of Antigua to explore. Which is where we are heading tomorrow morning.

*Note for non-sailors. Sailing into the wind is literally impossible. Motoring is possible, but given this would be driving into a swell that has had 2500 miles to get it’s mojo, somewhat uncomfortable and very slow. The sailor thing to do would be to beat to windward (sail diagonally across it at about 45 deg backwards and forwards) turning 80 miles into about 150.  

** ‘Rapid progress’ means two things simultaneously:

1) An exciting sail in around 20 knots close to the wind, the boat is slicing through the waves and the grinning skipper needs to take over from the autopilot ‘just to see if everything is OK’.

2) A sail where the boat is healed over too much, we have too much sail up, spray is coming into the cockpit and the skipper isn’t talking very much.

*** A ‘Blast’ (of a sail) is a fast sail where the boat is going quickly with the wind ‘aft of the beam’ (mostly from behind) -  so it’s much easier and all the crew enjoys it (almost) equally. The skipper can be found on the windward quarter, squinting up at the sails, not talking very much.

**** ‘Threading through a reef’ is a very slow process involving Polaroid sunglasses, careful studying or the charts, sensitive helm control, hope over expectation …. and the skipper not talking very much.