Some things come along and change your life. That’s what sailing did to me. My father bought the first family sail boat when I was seven years old. Since then it has provided countless hours of recreation, competition and adventure.
I have recently found myself boat-less, at least without a sailboat in a marina somewhere, for the first time in my adult lifetime. But I continue to find ways to sail, with boat-owning friends, my job as a charter captain at the St. Augustine Sailing School, or through sailing vacations.
I did my first sailing trip to the Caribbean back in 1992 when I was in my early twenties, when a rag-tag group of drinking buddies and I rented a 47 foot Jeanneau sloop in Tortola for two weeks and sailed the Sir Francis Drake Channel.
Over the years I’ve done over fifteen trips to the islands on rented boats, to the British Virgin Islands, Grenada, St. Vincent and Bequia, St. Lucia and Martinique. I am older these days and the rag-tag groups of drinking buddies are a thing of the past. Trips these days are just my wife, Karen and I. And that is just fine.
Recently, we decided to make our first trip to St. Martin, St. Barts and Antigua. I’d never been to the “Leeward Islands” of the Caribbean, in part because unlike so many other sailing grounds where there are multiple islands and destinations to explore by boat, St. Martin seemed more like one island, with fewer points of interest, as did Antigua. But hey, I needed to see them. So, we went.
St. Martin is divided into two parts, and two countries. The north being French, and the south being Dutch. To go from one to the other by boat requires a sailor to clear in and out of customs while crossing from one to the other but by car does not.
The division of Saint Martin between France and the Netherlands is often explained by a legend involving a walking contest and two different beverages. As the story goes, a Frenchman and a Dutchman walked across the island in opposite directions. Where they met would determine the border.
Both men choose beverages according to their culture: the south walking Frenchman a bottle of Red Wine, the north walking Dutchman a bottle of gin. The Frenchman, drinking wine, covered more ground than the gin drinking Dutchman, thus resulting in a larger French side.
Our first evening in St. Martin was spent ashore in the French settlement of Marigot. Karen had booked a hotel room in the heart of town. The French cuisine was delicious. In fact, most of our sailing adventures in years past involved a lot of provisioning and cooking aboard the boat.
Provisioning in the old days was challenging. They don’t raise a lot of cattle in the islands of the Caribbean, so good meat, in particular, was hard to find, and expensive when you did. We were even known to buy meat products in the states, freeze and pack with dry ice, and ship to our destination in advance.
Times have changed. Nice grocery stores are more plentiful in the Lesser Antilles these days. So, provisioning is easier. But on this trip, we decided to do things differently. St. Martin is known world-wide as a “Foodie” destination, and we were going to take advantage.
We picked up coffee, sodas and a few snacks, but decided that we would be eating most meals ashore instead of on the boat.
Grand Case (pronounced Grond Coss) was a short sail north from Marigot with a lovely anchorage right off the beach. There are no mooring balls here so anchoring is a must. In addition, the bottom has patches of weed and seagrass, so one must hop overboard and dive the anchor to make sure it’s stuck in sand and has good holding.
It took three attempts at anchoring until I was satisfied that we were secure for the evening. It was windy. And even though I dove that anchor, the wind howling through the hatches at night kept me on edge that we would drag.
Grand Case is a jewel of a destination. The beach and views are beautiful. There is a dinghy dock for visiting sailors, so taking the dinghy to shore is a snap. And the beach and adjoining settlement is lined with restaurants and bars, most of whom display their specials of the the day on a L'ardoise, a type of menu board that we found to be a distinctive feature of many of the French eateries, showcasing not only the food offerings but also adding to the charm and ambiance of the place.
Due to the unsettled weather we spent three days at Grand Case and enjoyed marvelous French food. Even the cheeseburger I ordered at Le Pressoir was about the best I’d ever tasted.
Bistrot Caraibes, Ocean 82, La Villa and L’Auberge Gourmande, we tried them all, and on our last evening at Grande Case sampled one of the local LOLOs, an open air barbecue restaurant that was out of this world.
Since we were here for longer than we’d expected, we even took advantage of a shore day and rented beach chairs at Rainbow Cafe and met a group from Arkansas of all places (my home state), who knew a bunch of friends of mine. It truly is a small world indeed.
On day three, we decided to head out, round the north end of St. Martin and set sail 30 miles to the south to the island of St Barthelomy (St. Barts) and the ghost of Jimmy Buffett’s past. I’d read about St. Barts and the legendary Le Select bar where Jimmy hung out. I needed to see the island myself. And it didn’t disappoint.
The sail was exhilarating! Twenty-plus knots of wind on a broad reach, full canvas. One other boat, a catamaran, made the trip alongside us. We saw our speed hit eight knots at one point. I was a happy captain.
There are a few small rocks and uninhabited islands to avoid as you approach St. Barts from the north. Modern day chart plotters make this pretty simple these days. I can remember my sailing to Havana Cuba many years ago with one of the crude, first generation GPS units. That took more skill. Nowadays, navigation is almost too easy.
We sailed into Gustavia and compared to the quiet anchorage we’d left behind at Grand Case, this place was bustling. Everything from day-sailors to mega yachts were moored in and out of the large harbor. We found what looked to be the only place in the crowd of boats to anchor, and dropped the hook.
Again, I dove the anchor to determine that we had good holding. The wind and the number of boats swinging all around us kept me on edge, but we survived our stay in St. Barts without incident in the anchorage.
“I Have Found Me A Home” is the title and lyric of one of Jimmy Buffett’s old tunes from his Key West days. The sentiment fit St. Barts perfectly.. Of all the islands I’d visited over the years, this one struck me as one I could truly call home if circumstances ever allowed it. Many people do. Mostly wealthy ex-pats and celebrities live here, and it’s easy to see why.
Our initial stroll around town was quiet. I was surprised not to see more people, what with all the boats anchored in the harbor. Most of the shops were closed. In fact, I don't recall ever catching many of the shops open. The French keep strange working hours. Every time we would come from the boat into town, shops either hadn’t opened for the day, or were closed for the long lunch or afternoon break.
We were required to clear in through customs, but it proved pretty simple compared to other islands I’d visited. Afterwards our first stop was of course, Le Select, that famous Jimmy Buffett hangout downtown, just off the waterfront. Excellent cheeseburgers and cold beer. And more than one cool piece of Jimmy memorabilia.
Hanging on the wall, encased in glass was a handwritten letter from Buffett himself, to the owner of Le Select, Mr. Marius Stakelborough, a close friend of Jimmy who was even referred to in the song, One Particular Harbor.
In the letter Jimmy apologized to Marius for having to miss his upcoming birthday bash in St. Barts, as work on the One Particular Harbor album had taken longer than expected. Jimmy had enclosed a copy of the cassette, and encouraged his friend to make as many copies for friends as he wanted. The letter along with the cassette were framed together and displayed in the bar.
Gustavia was delightful. Very Caribbean, but at the same time very chic and upscale. We rented a car from an old character downtown who had a rental car business, scooter and outboard motor dealership, auto repair business, he was a jack of all trades.
I had a great conversation with him even though I barely understood a word he said. He was cracking jokes and telling all kinds of seemingly funny stories, but the French was so heavy, I was lost. I just laughed and nodded and went along.
We drove the entire island from north to south, across the middle and around the perimeter. It's impossible to describe the beauty. We looked north over the Caribbean from the cliffs at Columbier, had beers on the beach at Lorient on the east side, and swam at Anse De Marigot on the south end. We enjoyed a delicious lunch and managed some shopping. It was a great day.
We did cook aboard one night in St. Barts, but had a hard time deciding on where to enjoy our final meal ashore. Eddy’s Ghetto won out. We were told that Eddy’s had been a cornerstone of St. Barts’ dining scene since its establishment in 1995. French, Creole, and Asian cuisines were all featured within a lush tropical garden that made the night even more memorable.
We had hoped to sail from St. Barts to Anguilla, north of St. Martin next, but again, weather dictated our agenda and we ran short of time waiting on the right conditions. So, we retraced our course back, up the eastern side of St. Martin, but did manage a day stop at Tintemarre, a deserted island off St. Martin’s northeast coast.
We found ourselves back at Grand Case later that day and ended up on the hook there for two more nights. The first night was uneventful, the second night was anything but. After a final meal ashore we retired to the boat for cocktails and stargazing.
I think I mentioned earlier that the sea bottom here was grassy, and that one must dive the anchor to make sure it’s stuck, in good sand, to prevent dragging. Well, at around 10:30 pm Karen notices that a boat appears to be dragging anchor towards us.
No one appeared to be onboard the other vessel. We saw the captain leave in her dinghy towards town earlier and had not returned. We monitored the situation and waited. The other boat was definitely getting closer, and the wind, as is normal in the Caribbean, was howling.
We needed to take action. Plan A, was to get our anchor up and move. But, apparently our anchor line and chain was now running directly under the other boat. There was no way to get it up. I tried to motor away to the left and right, hoping to drag our own anchor free, but our line would catch the dragging boat's keel and/or anchor and swing us back toward it.
We were running out of options here. I let out more and more of our own anchor line in an attempt to get farther away and/or buy more time in hopes that the other captain would come back. When I got to the end, I told Karen our final decision would be to release and cut our own anchor free, which would then require us to motor around all night until we could come back at sunup and try to find and retrieve it.
That was not a choice I wanted to make. But, it would be better than watching the other boat hit us. Finally, I saw a dinghy coming from town, and it was the other captain. When I saw her board her boat, I began flashing a light and shouting to get her attention.
It was as if she was oblivious to the situation. With time running out I jumped in our own dinghy and raced to the other sailboat. The other captain “no speaka the English”. She was French and couldn’t understand what I was trying to explain.
I gestured and waived my arms. I tried speaking louder. Finally, the woman got her phone and called a gentleman on shore who spoke English and handed me her phone. In short order, and not a moment too soon, the man arrived in his own dinghy. He immediately saw what was happening and helped the woman up anchor and move her boat to another location.
Nothing like a near collision at 11pm in the dark to kill a good buzz, but at least tragedy was avoided, albeit at the last minute. Next day, we enjoyed a leisurely sail down the west coast of St. Martin, back to Marigot where we would turn Creole back into the charter company, and spend a few days ashore.
We enjoyed the great food and sights of the windward side of St. Martin, in particular Orient Bay. We had friends ashore who drove us around the entire island, which was very worthwhile. We made it to Maho Beach, on the Dutch side of the island, adjacent to Princess Juliana International Airport.
Maho is a famous beach where visitors can experience the thrill of planes approaching just feet above their heads. It’s so popular that the approach times of the airlines are posted around the area so folks know when to gather and prepare for the arrivals and departures.
It’s worth looking up on Youtube to see just what I’m talking about. A Boeing 737 coming in for a landing less than 100 feet overhead is something that you just don’t experience every day. It’s not completely safe, and injuries have been reported, although it hasn’t thinned the crowds from gathering several times a day.
It only takes me a couple days once I’m off a boat, I’m ready to get back on a boat. And as nice as Orient Bay, and the rest of St. Martin was, the sea was calling my name.
Next stop, Antigua and Barbuda. On a different boat, 92 nautical miles to the south.
