LEEWARD ISLAND ODYSSEY
One family’s Caribbean cruising adventure
A s we pulled anchor on Roam, our Moody 47, we waved goodbye to the superyachts and their teams of staff, busily polishing the spotless hulls of the multi-million dollar vessels. Our time in Saint Barthélemy, better known as St Barts, was a reminder of how the other half lived. Convertible cars driven by impeccably groomed women, complete with a head scarf and oversized glasses, zipped past us as we wandered the manicured streets. We were quite the spectacle, my three young boys with their sun-bleached locks and flip-flops, sauntering in and out of boutiques and designer shops, the price tags comparable to a month of our cruising budget. But for a few days, we enjoyed the change that the luxurious island had brought and reminded ourselves that we shared the very same bay and watched the very same sunset as the rich and famous on their superyachts.
With only four hours ahead of us to Saba, my children lazed content in the cockpit, comfortable with the motion of the boat and with the cruising life to which they had become so accustomed. As we passed the uninhabited island of Redonda, the overhead fishing rod trailing from the back of Roam sprang to life, whizzing and zinging in excitement. My three boys snapped to attention, giddy with excitement and anticipation, while my husband Dave sprung out of the cockpit and began reeling in his catch. Considering the size of the little tuna, he put up a mean fight, and we rejoiced when it finally landed on our deck, knowing sushi would now feature on the menu for lunch.
After the excitement of the fish had died down, and the sun continued to warm my body, the rocking motion lulled me into a slumber, comfortably wedged into the lower side of the cockpit. I awoke to towering brown cliffs overshadowing our boat, and I marvelled at the birds in full flight not even halfway up the cliff faces. Mountain goats could be heard bleating in the distance from impossibly high perches, and I watched in awe as a family of goats balanced precariously on a narrow ridge.
UNIQUE ISLANDS
There is always something invigorating about arriving at a new island, unsure of what adventures lie ahead and excited for exploration and discovery. While one may think that all Caribbean islands are the same, with their white sandy beaches and palm tree-lined shores, the truth is, most of them are surprisingly diverse, and the island we were about to approach was the most unique of them all.
We had planned our stay carefully, aware that Saba required near-perfect conditions to make anchoring or mooring possible. Arriving into Fort Bay was unlike any island approach we had made before. While it was called a bay, it lacked any form of protection, and although the northerly swell was ever so slight, it caused our boat to rock and roll as though we were still under way. With the ocean floor 20 metres below, it was far too deep to anchor, so we tied to a mooring buoy before eagerly clambering into the dinghy to make our way to the customs and immigration office. While the island looked barren and almost uninhabitable, we were keen to check in and explore the smallest municipality of the Netherlands.
Located 34 miles south-west of St Maarten and 13 miles north-west of Sint Eustatius, Saba is located amongst some of the best cruising grounds in the world. The Leeward Islands are rich in beauty and
One never needs to sail more than 10 hours to reach the next island, and usually far less
diversity, a natural mosaic made of endless shades of blue. With a spicy fusion of cultures thanks to the colourful history of the region and a distinct and varying topography, the area ticks almost every box when it comes to a choice cruising ground.
Evenly spaced, as though once used as stepping stones for giants, one never needs to sail more than 10 hours to reach the next island, usually far less. With friendly people and unforgettable sights, you could spend several months in the area and not even come close to scratching the surface. Rainforest and natural springs, towering volcanoes and gushing waterfalls, not to mention luscious beaches complete with colourful bars selling rum punch adorned with umbrellas, filled our days. Cruising this island chain really does satisfy all of the senses.
Surprisingly, Saba didn’t feel like the Caribbean at all. It is a distinctly European island, complete with stone cottages and bougainvillea entwined fences, flower pots on windowsills and fancy lamp posts. We hiked Mount Scenery, the island’s highest peak, some 887 metres tall; the dense rainforest and mossy green rocks completely hidden from the exterior of the island. The unspoilt views over the neighbouring islands left us breathless, or perhaps that was the 1,064 steps we climbed to get there.
The fact that the surrounding waters were deep and daunting, with difficult access ashore only added to Saba’s mystery, and underwater there was a whole other world we couldn’t wait to explore. There wasn’t a single marina or cruise ship terminal, sun bed or coconut vendor in Saba. Yet what we did find was solitude, a place to disconnect and a real sense of adventure. Saba wasn’t the only surprise the Leeward Islands had in store for us.
MEETING FEATHERED FRIENDS
Of all the destinations we cruised, the island of Barbuda was by far the most far-flung, the most remote and the most unspoiled. Located 30 miles north of Antigua, Barbuda is 15 miles long, and is famous for its pink beaches and shallow turquoise waters abundant with life.
It is also home to the largest frigate bird colony in the western hemisphere, with over 170 bird species. Our guide George Jeffery was only too eager to acquaint us with these feathered islanders, and as he ferried us to the sanctuary, his boat, equipped with a 60hp outboard, skimmed effortlessly over the water of Codrington Lagoon. The frigate birds’ hooked bills, long slender wings, and forked tails could be seen as they soared effortlessly overhead. Darting and diving to the water’s surface, we watched as they recovered falling fish dropped by panic-stricken boobies and other seabirds. The water was shallow, and the trees in which they were nestled sat low in the water. We were able to motor within feet of the roosting birds, their beady eyes inquisitive yet unperturbed by our presence. Male and female, young and old sat quietly together, the gentle breeze rustling their feathers. With a giant red balloon inflated from their throats, courting males were a spectacle. The noise of the birds’ clicking beaks could be heard all around, and the smell in the air was pungent and offensive, due to the guano which they use to coat their nests. It was our very own David Attenborough experience.
Neighbouring Antigua, a mere 30 miles due south, couldn’t have been more different. Distinctly
Caribbean, the island doesn’t have a lush interior, but the beaches more than make up for it. What’s more, it’s home to the famous Shirley Heights steel pan band, simply the best party in the Leeward Islands, and one of the finest places to watch the sun set over English Harbour and look for the elusive green flash.
Arguably the most attractive bay in the Leewards had to be one of the first we visited. Located only six miles from the southernmost tip of Guadeloupe, Îles des Saintes is made up of nine islands. The
The Leeward Islands are rich in beauty and diversity, a natural mosaic made of endless shades of blue
horseshoe-shaped Les Saintes Bay on the northwest coast of Terre-de-haut is renowned for the clarity of its water, and orange starfish, which we easily spotted as we weaved our way through the field of 80 mooring buoys, searching for a space. Endorsed by UNESCO as one of the most beautiful bays in the world, Les Saintes didn’t disappoint. The fishing village of Bourg des Saintes overlooks the bay and we took the short dinghy ride to the small boat pier close to the main street. Despite being popular with tourists, the village retains its charm and has a strong old French colonial feel, with red roof tiles, shuttered windows and white balconies.
OFFSHORE ADVENTURE
After six glorious months in the Leeward Islands, it was time for us to embark on our first major offshore passage, cruising east from Marigot Bay, St Maarten, to Horta in the Azores. Some 17 days and 2,400 miles later, while sitting in the cockpit, my fingers like ice despite my thermals, wet-weather gear and rubber boots, the memories of warm Caribbean breezes and the vivid colours helped keep me going. The final 24 hours of our crossing had been far from easy, as we dodged two converging low pressures and dealt with overheating batteries, but we arrived safe in Horta.
I know, one day, I will return to the islands blessed with mother nature’s bounty, the islands that stole my heart, warmed my soul and continue to call my name.