Living for the moment……

In St. Martin, the aroma of French pastries filled the air, contrasting with the salty breeze from spectacular beaches and fiery sunsets. The central location of the Marigot marina allowed us easy access to French cultural experiences, from the vibrant sounds of the market to the delicious smells of traditional cuisine.

View from our dock in Marigot Marina, St. Martin

St. Barts, a mere 20 miles away by sea, with its reputation as a playground for the rich and famous, was too strong for us to resist. The morning sun glinted off the polished hulls of super yachts as we navigated Gustavia’s harbour, finally finding a packed café overlooking the water for coffee; the air buzzed with the sounds of the harbour and the chatter of fellow patrons. Ileana located the perfume shops, each one overflowing with beautifully presented bottles, and expanded her collection with some of the island’s most exquisite perfumes.

Ileana headed back to Toronto. Having dropped her at the airport, I then went to the arrivals to pick up Steve, whose Westjet flight had just landed. Our planned voyage was to take us from the shores of St. Martin to the beautiful and diverse collection of islands that make up the British Virgin Islands. Ten days from then, Ileana was to meet up with me at Nanny Cay Marina.

In the pitch-black darkness of 4 a.m., our journey begun as we followed a catamaran out of the harbour; it seemed to possess an innate understanding of the best course to the BVI. Because he had previously warned us about the dangerous lobster traps located just off the coast of St. Martin, I was determined to avoid a repeat of the frustrating fishing net entanglement we experienced during our southbound trip.

Steve and I went to hoist the mainsail. The power winches would not work…… no matter how hard we pressed the button. Throughout my sailing experiences, I’ve learned to accept the inevitable: that there will always be some sort of problem or malfunction with the vessel, requiring attention and repair. A sigh escaped my lips as my mind struggled to process and understand the potential explanations for the events that had unfolded. Because both winches had failed, I immediately suspected a significant problem with the electrical system.

While travelling to Barbuda on his sailboat, my friend Roger contacted me to give me the name and contact information of an electrician he knew in the British Virgin Islands. As it happens, the advice that Roger had given me proved to be quite sound and insightful, exceeding my initial expectations. The electrician, Chip, expertly resolved the electrical issue; massive corrosion of the electrical cables.

Massive corrosion of electric wires

With the electrical problem repaired, Steve and I took our boat across the Sir Francis Drake passage until we reached Dead Man’s Bay on Peter Island. Characterizing the weather as merely “changeable” would be a gross understatement; it underwent a series of dramatic and unpredictable shifts throughout the day. When trying to explain the capricious nature of weather patterns, the most fitting and time-tested method is a simple yet insightful saying: if you don’t like the weather, simply wait, as weather conditions are in a constant state of flux.

Ten minutes later………

While at anchor or on a mooring ball, one of the greatest pleasures I’ve experienced has been the abundance of free time that allowed me to fully appreciate the wonders of the natural world around me. In the morning, the sun rises, painting the sky with vibrant hues, while at night, a myriad of stars twinkle and shine, creating a celestial spectacle, and following a storm, spectacular rainbows arch across the heavens, displaying a breathtaking array of colors.

It is incredibly exciting and heartwarming whenever friends manage to secure their boats at the same mooring ball field, creating a little community of familiar faces and vessels. Pat and Rob, two individuals I had the pleasure of meeting last autumn in a somewhat disreputable sailors’ bar located in the coastal town of Hampton, Virginia. They, like us, were travelling south as part of the same group, an organization known as The Salty Dawgs Sailing Association. Since we both owned Hanse sailboats, we discovered we had a shared passion and thus, a plethora of topics to discuss.

They had eventually made their way to the Bitter End Yacht Club, where Steve and I had moored. In contrast to their typical calm and collected demeanor, this time, a palpable sense of panic had overtaken them, replacing their usual composure with a frantic energy. “We have just enough time to make it to happy hour if we hurry”, they shouted at us as they quickly tied up to a mooring ball.

Launching our dinghy, Steve and I followed them to the Bitter End Yacht Club bar; there, before the two-for-one rum punch and “painkiller” drink deal ended at 5 p.m., we found the sailors enthusiastically consuming the potent cocktails. As we joined the throng, the bartender, with a mischievous glint in his eye, threatened to spike my diet Coke with rum, explaining with a chuckle that happy hour’s end was rapidly approaching, leaving little time for such pleasantries.

Our friends Pat and Rob on Helios

Steve leaves back to Toronto on Tuesday. It has been a great adventure. I’ll spend the next 3 weeks in the BVIs. The next stop is Samana in the Dominican Republic