Underway
NEWS and NOTES from the CRUISING COMMUNITY
PANDEMIC PINING
I’m dreaming of cerulean seas and tropical breeze. Of wisp-of-sand islands, rhythmic music and cold, rummy drinks. Although physically imprisoned by the limitations of the pandemic year, my mind has wandered through charters past, plotting adventures for the day the world breaks free.
My reverie starts on a long, soothing flight to St. George’s, Grenada. What better place to provision and launch than Spice Island? Load a beefy catamaran with Grenadian bounty and a half-dozen friends, and go!
Perhaps we’d stop at Molinière, 3 nautical miles up the west coast, and plunge into the Caribbean at last. Snorkel among the eerie figures in the underwater sculpture garden and hang on a mooring overnight. Or continue the voyage up the leeward coast and test my sea legs. The 18-nautical-mile-long island is rugged and lush, dotted with fishing communities.
Then brace for the blow as we peek out into the unfettered breeze. Throw out the lines before passing Ronde Island, where the fishing is excellent, on the 14-nautical-mile
romp toward Carriacou. Broad reaching in a 25-knot breeze is what sailors’ dreams are made of!
Let the weather decide on the night’s anchorage: the sandy seclusion of Petit Saint Vincent or Carriacou’s bustling Tyrell Bay. Entering this working harbor, a scruffy rowboat might pull alongside with plates of freshly shucked oysters; and music thumps deep into the night, from bars and eateries ashore.
Then it’s north to Union Island, the gateway to the Grenadines. Dodge the kitesurfers off Clifton Harbour, anchor, and tend to customs and immigration. Stock up on luscious fruits and produce at the colorful open-air market, although the stroll to the dinghy dock is lined with bistros too tempting to ignore. Soak up the scents and sounds of this bustling town because the next stop is conversely peaceful and pure.
Navigate the thin turquoise splendor into Tobago Cays. Horseshoe Reef, spitting with foam, shelters this placid paradise where sea turtles and rays confidently coast through the protected waters. Moor among them in liquid bliss, and spend the days in an endless cycle of swimming, paddling, napping, reading and snacking.
If boredom sets in (unlikely), the island of Mayreau is just a half-hour east. The tiny hook of Saltwhistle Bay is jammed with moorings, and nightly beach parties are guaranteed. And then weigh anchor again.
Canouan is 4 nautical miles north, and 10 nautical miles beyond is Mustique. That once-private island is still favored by royalty and celebrities, but that’s not my scene. I prefer the quaint charm of Bequia, just 3 nautical miles farther. The postcard-perfect capital of Port Elizabeth is clustered with vividly painted cafes, and cottages selling art, crafts, clothing and souvenirs. Sturdy, bright wooden fishing boats line the adjacent beach. It’s protected, picturesque, and the perfect place to anchor and polish off some local rum punch.
By now a week or more will have passed, the crew eager for connectivity (or not). The verdant island of St. Vincent looms 5 nautical miles away: It’s a short jaunt to the Blue Lagoon and pleasures ashore. But as for me, I’d settle for a killer hamburger at the marina, and a quick restocking of food and crew.
And then: Turn around, head south, and do it all again.