In the idyllic waters of the North Sound, nestled on the shores of Virgin Gorda, there’s a special place that’s become a beacon of hope and resilience—Bitter End Yacht Club. 

When Irma roared through in September 2017, it left behind a path of unimaginable destruction. Among its victims was the beloved Bitter End Yacht Club, a cherished retreat for sailors, adventurers, and those who simply love the sea.

For over 40 years, Bitter End Yacht Club was more than just a resort and marina; it was a sanctuary where families gathered for unforgettable memories, in, on and around the water. When the hurricane destroyed it, the loss was deeply felt by Bitter End’s extended family and the sailing community from across the globe. The calls came in from far and wide for ways to support, and could they buy a t-shirt, sailing shorts or a cap to aid the cause. So, Bitter End Provisions was born.

Bitter End Provisions isn’t just an apparel brand; it’s a tribute to the indomitable spirit of sailors, adventurers and island hoppers. Every piece of apparel and gear they create is infused with the love of the sea and the adventure it promises. From rugged, stylish clothing, home goods to practical gear for a life lived on the water, Bitter End Provisions makes gear that is both functional and fashionable and does good while making it.

Core to the heart of this brand is giving back. Like Bitter End Provisions, The Bitter End Foundation was created following the storm, and with a mission that goes beyond the shores of BEYC. The foundation is dedicated to the recovery and revitalization of Virgin Gorda and beyond. They’re committed to community development, environmental sustainability, youth development and education, working tirelessly to help the region bounce back stronger than ever.

The Bitter End Foundation focuses on stewarding the world’s seas, oceans and waterways and the unique needs of communities that surround them. From coral reef restoration, planting mangroves, and promoting sustainable tourism to protect Virgin Gorda’s unique ecosystem, their work ensures that the pristine waters and vibrant marine life can be enjoyed by future Bitter Enders and generations of sailors and ocean lovers. 

At Bitter End, they’re not just rebuilding a place; they’re uniting kindred spirits who care about their mission and ensuring the spirit of the Bitter End lives on. When you sail through the BVI – stop ashore and find out for yourself. 

The post Bitter End Provisions: Rising from the Storm appeared first on Cruising World.

It was March, and I’d survived another winter in Maine. Since the fall, I’d been following Richard Thomas, a fellow Mainer, on Facebook. He’d been sailing his Reliance 44 cutter Strider to Bermuda and then to the Caribbean. By late March, he was holed up at Bequia. 

“Got a spare bunk aboard that boat of yours?” I wrote. “I have a need to go sailing.”

I’d met Richard, a building contractor, two years earlier in Antigua’s English Harbour. I was there to cover the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta, and he’d just arrived on Strider from the Bahamas. We’d been sharing notes ever since. 

Our plan from Bequia was to sail down to Grenada for two days, and then island-hop back up the chain, anchoring in a cove or harbor every night. Eventually, we’d visit eight islands—Union Island, Carriacou, Grenada, St. Lucia, Martinique, Dominica, Les Saintes and Guadeloupe—but first, we’d spend a week on Bequia, prepping the boat, provisioning and spending a little time enjoying the tourist life.

I booked a mid-March flight to St. Vincent, and 20 fellow travelers and I caught the last ferry to Bequia. The hour-long ride got us into Port Elizabeth by 9 that night, and I was aboard Strider with a rum in my hand by 9:30.

Richard had assigned me a bunk in a small cabin aft, near the companionway. It was tight, and with no overhead hatch to scoop in a cooling night breeze. I began looking at the cockpit. It also was a bit tight, but the seats were long and wide enough to stretch out. Nights are warm enough, so only a sheet is needed. I’d brought my own. 

An Old Friend

The next morning, Richard and I headed into town. As we approached the dinghy dock, I saw that Bequia hadn’t changed much in 15 years. My family and I had spent part of a season here in 2010, boat-schooling our kids on Searcher, our Bowman 57 ketch. 

It was good to be back. The dinghy dock was crowded with another dozen RIBs. Since it was a cruise-ship day, dozens of tourists struggled out of a launch and then lined up dutifully, led like sheep to a half dozen open-air buses bound for a two-hour tour. I knew they’d only scratch the surface. Bequia is one of the smallest inhabited islands in the Eastern Caribbean, but it has a huge reputation in the cruising community. The 5,000 residents are welcoming, and Admiralty Bay is an open anchorage with enough space for 100 yachts, and a cruise ship or two.

This island has no mass-market resort chains. There are a few small, luxury hotels, including Bequia Plantation Hotel, Bequia Beach Hotel and The Liming Hotel, along with B&Bs and rental spots scattered about the hillsides. In season, though, the anchorage may have more bunks afloat than are available ashore, with most of the boats carrying a well-worn copy of the Sailor’s Guide to the Windward Islands by Chris Doyle.

Richard and I shouldered our shopping bags, dodged the tourists and made our way to the Bank of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, which houses the island’s sole ATM. If there’s a cruise ship in the harbor, the machine will be out of cash by noon. A handful of small grocery stores is also here, but you have to visit them all, as not one has everything. You can stop along the way at an open-air bar for a bottle of Sparrow’s rum, made on St. Vincent.

Shopping for food is a challenge. You don’t go in with a list; you see what’s available and then decide what’s for dinner. “It’s the availability of meat and poultry,” Richard said, pawing through a chest freezer. “That’s the challenge. There’s never any steak, hardly any hamburger, occasionally some pork, but lots of chicken parts, mostly legs, rarely any breast meat.”

All of the food on Bequia comes from St. Vincent on ferries. Fruit and vegetables are available at open-air fruit and vegetable stands, some no larger than a card table. The covered market was abuzz 15 years ago, full of stalls bursting with fresh food, but as I walked through in March, only two stalls were open. The local entrepreneurs must have discovered that they could simply set up shop on the street and not pay the market rent. Doris’ Fresh Food and Yacht Provisioning is an upscale, air-conditioned store with everything that wealthy expats and visiting sailors desire, from Swiss chocolate to exotic coffees and wine. Doris also has a large frozen meat and poultry section, at a price. 

The entrepreneurial spirit is alive on Bequia. The center of Port Arthur is busy with vendors hawking their wares and pushcarts overflowing with produce and other stuff. Customs and immigration is here, in the post office. An outdoor mall is nearby with tables of produce and fruit, crafts and handmade jewelry. At one of the cafes, you can grab a few hours of Wi-Fi for the price of an iced tea or lunch.

Marine chandleries, sailmakers, a canvas shop, freelance mechanics, carpenters, electricians and people who can fix anything are all on the backstreets. There is fuel and water at the yacht club. Daffodil Marine Services has a fuel and water delivery barge, and does laundry, can provide ice, and has a dockside restaurant and guest house. A second fuel barge also makes the rounds in the anchorage.

There’s good snorkeling a dinghy ride away, and two dive shops have tours and services. Lower Bay Beach is great for body surfing if there’s a northerly swell running. Hiking trails lead up and over the hills to more beaches. You could spend a month here, as Richard has done.

Years ago, Bequia was known for its Scottish shipwrights, who crafted schooners for the island trade. Some boats hunted whales. After the war, boatbuilding petered out, so the locals turned to building model boats to sell to visiting yachtsmen. Locals still hunt whales today, under an international license. They can kill no more than four in a year. To learn more about the island’s traditions, take the $2 bus ride from town to the Bequia Boat Museum. Outside, under a roof, is a collection of original wooden whale boats, each 30 feet long and built on the island. 

On our way back to the bus stop, we had lunch at the Good Mood Cafe. It’s owned by John and Donna Fisher, an English couple who have been here for 15 years. John was an electrical and plumbing engineer back in the UK. He could fix anything. Now, he has more work than he can cope with, fixing washing machines, dryers, stoves and other appliances. Sitting on their second-story porch for a lunch of freshly made English sausage rolls, it was hard to visualize a nicer spot. A jungle of greenery surrounded us.

Boat Work to Do

Richard and Strider had been anchored in Admiralty Bay for a month, and the prop and hull were becoming a marine garden. They needed scraping. The same was true for the dinghy’s bottom, which we did on the beach. These tasks took up a day or so.

A few days before Easter, we’d re-anchored closer to shore, on the north side of the bay, to get out of a pesky swell. That first night, the band at a nearby bar kept us up until midnight. It wasn’t that they were loud; it’s that they were really bad. When that band folded up, another band just down the beach kept going, until 3. 

“I’m not putting up with this,” Richard told me the next morning. “This is Easter weekend. This place is going to be hopping. Let’s get out of here and head south. We can get to Union Island in half a day.”

And that’s what we did.

The post Why Boaters Love Bequia appeared first on Cruising World.

If you’ve spent any time in the West Indies on a boat, then you may have already figured out how to connect your phone to the Internet. Understanding phone service and digital roaming is paramount. Here’s what I recently discovered.

You can always go ashore and, for the price of a beer or an iced tea, connect using the bar’s Wi-Fi. And all along the island chain, from Grenada to the US and British Virgin Islands, cell phone service is available, even a few miles offshore.

In March, I flew to the islands to meet a friend on his boat in Bequia. As my plane touched down on St. Vincent, my iPhone lit up: “Welcome to St. Vincent and the Grenadians. You are now connected to Spectrum Mobile. Outgoing calls are 12 cents a minute; 25 cents for incoming calls; texts are free; and roaming data is 10 cents a megabyte.”

It wasn’t always this easy to connect. In the early ’80s, I’d call my office in Maine from a pay phone nailed to a palm tree near the taxi stand at the Cruz Bay ferry terminal on St. John. In 1983, AOL came online. With a bag phone—the one with an antenna that you placed on your car roof or cabin top—you could connect to AT&T and AOL while cruising in the USVI. Over in the BVI, rates were outrageous, but if you anchored off the caves or in Kelly’s Cove on Norman Island, you could hit the AT&T tower on top of St. John, and you were in.

It’s been a scramble ever since to find inexpensive access to Wi-Fi while living on a boat in the islands. In 2010, we were boat-schooling our two kids on Searcher, our Bowman 57 ketch. While in Grenada, we learned of a Wi-Fi hot spot in English Harbour, Antigua. For $50 a month, we had Wi-Fi on board with an antenna on the aft deck, a booster and a router below. We could use Skype to make calls.

It’s much easier to make calls today, but the costs can still add up. After a week on board in Bequia, I checked in with Spectrum at home and learned that I’d already run up a $30 bill. The Digicel store in the middle of Port Elizabeth had a sale on: I could get a monthly plan with 25 GB for $42. It also had free texting and an ample number of free phone calls.

However, I’d have to buy a new phone or replace the SIM card in my phone, with a new one ($19) that had a new phone number, thereby losing access to my contacts and email. And, service would only be good from St. Vincent and the Grenadines south to Union Island, but not in Grenada or the islands to the north.

That would not be ideal when we left to go sailing for a few months. I emailed a friend who’s been skippering a charter boat in the islands for 30 years. He had a plan for unlimited Internet all over the Caribbean, and unlimited calls in the Caribbean and toward Europe— but not to the US or Canada. To get that plan, I’d have to visit one of the French Islands to buy a new phone, or switch SIM cards. 

Still not ideal. I noticed that Richard Thomas, the owner of the boat I was aboard, was on his phone all the time. I asked about his plan. 

“AT&T,” he replied. “It’s $10 a day for unlimited phone calls, in and out, data and texting.”

“That’s costing you $300 a month!” I shrieked.

“No. It’s $10 a day for the first 10 days, then free for the rest of the month,” he said.

A $100 maximum? That was less than what I pay at home in Maine for Internet and phone service. But, there was no AT&T store handy, so I muddled through with what I had. Each time we neared an island, my phone lit up with a welcome from Spectrum and the rates for that new island.

Richard discovered that he had a spare cell phone onboard, one he’d bought in the French Islands earlier in the year. “All you need to do is reactivate it and top it up,” he told me.

When we reached Rodney Bay on St. Lucia two weeks later, I went looking for the Digicel store. “I want to use this French phone as a hot spot,” I told the clerk. “That way, I can still use my iPhone to access the Internet.”

“Yes, that will work,” he said. “You’ll need a new SIM card.”

It would cost me $15. For another $40, I could get a plan with 25 GB of data and free phone and text, for a month. 

“Will it cover the islands north to Antigua?” I asked.

“Yes, but not the French Islands,” he said.

I could live with that. I bought in. At the end of the few weeks of sailing, I had spent $60 for the plan but used only 250 megabytes of data.

When I got back home, my Spectrum bill for the two months in the Caribbean was only $60. 

The Bottom Line

Next time I’m off to the islands, I’ll stick with my Spectrum International plan. If I need a lot of Internet access, I’ll go ashore and spend the morning at a cafe with free Wi-Fi. 

Check your phone’s international plan before you depart, and if you plan to work offshore or in remote locations, then consider investing in Starlink. If your only requirements are accessing PredictWind and the Windy weather app, then Iridium GO! is a more cost-effective option. 

Or, you can always throw the phone over the side and go off the grid entirely. Which, some people tell me, is also quite nice.

The post Connected in the Caribbean: Learning Lessons Underway appeared first on Cruising World.

There are more than a dozen reasons to drop the hook off Bequia in the Windward Islands. Surrounded by hills and a welcoming community ashore, the island is a safe, relaxing place to linger for a few weeks. More than a dozen bars and restaurants line the shore. If you count those on the hillside, the knock-up beach stands and the local dives, the count could reach two dozen.

My most recent visit to Bequia was to help a fellow Mainer, Richard Thomas, sail his 44-foot Pierre Munier-designed cutter Strider north to Antigua so he could crew in the annual Classic Yacht Regatta. Our plan was to island-hop up the chain, exploring dozens of anchorages as we went. We had three weeks.

But before we could get underway, there were boat projects to do, provisions to buy, and water and fuel to take on, to say nothing of our research into the bar scene along the beach. Richard had already been on Bequia for a month and was deep into that research. I would now get to tag along.

We started with lunch at Da Reef, an open restaurant on the beach at the southern end of Lower Bay. I’d arranged to meet two old friends from Maine, John and Chrissy, who had been wintering here for 20 years. They’d built a house on the hill overlooking the bay and become residents of Bequia. Chrissy, who is the chair of the Committee for Democrats Abroad in the Caribbean, introduced me to tables full of women expats of mixed nationalities, all deep in political conversation. John writes, acts and, with Chrissy, produces an annual Bequia Theater Festival at the Da Reef. 

From Da Reef, it’s a mile walk along the beach back into town. Along the way are a dozen bars, restaurants, hotels and shops. Keegan’s Beachside Restaurant & Bar is at the opposite end of the beach from Da Reef. 

It’s a short climb up over a hill to Princess Margaret Beach—one of the great Caribbean beaches. In the middle is the Bamboo Beach Bar & Grill, followed by Jack’s Beach Bar at the far end.

A nifty promenade leads around a cliff at the water’s edge to Bequia Plantation Hotel, a sprawling complex that is a throwback to colonial times. It had been forgotten 15 years ago when we were living on our Bowman 57 Searcher and anchored in Bequia, boat-schooling our two kids. Today, the Great House, with its shaded veranda, has been restored to its original grandeur. The lawns are immaculate, the trees are pruned, and the cottages and outbuildings are all painted white. There’s a meandering swimming pool, and drinks are on the porch by the beach.

A few steps away is The Fig Tree, a restaurant with a bar in an outdoor setting (almost everything down here is outdoors). 

One night, Richard and I dinghied ashore and tied up to the dock at Mac’s Pizza & Kitchen on the beach walkway. It has a flagstone patio shaded by umbrellas where rum and a fair meal can be had. We stayed for three hours. A quartet was playing, and the place was crowded. Apparently, the couple singing had come together a few years earlier, when she was on a circumnavigation. Her husband fell ill and died. She hired a skipper to continue the adventure. That skipper was also a musician. Now, they sing and sail.

Continuing along the promenade is Whaleboner Restaurant and Bar, Bequia’s oldest family-run restaurant, where you sit on whalebone stools. Next door is The Frangipani, which serves local rum infused with cannabis.

On the main drag in town is Maria’s Cafe, whose second-floor bar and dining room offer a breeze and Wi-Fi for the price of an iced tea. Nearby, across from the dinghy dock, is Bougainvillea, a less-than-casual pub for locals and those in search of cheap rum.

Floating in the middle of the anchorage is Bar One, the creation of Kerry Ollivierre, whose family goes back 200 years in Bequia’s history of whaling and boatbuilding. Tie up the dinghy and sit yourself in a swing around a central bar. Sometimes there’s music and a beautiful sunset.

Bamboo is an informal beach bar that has no floor, no roof, no electricity and, in fact, no rum; you bring your own. It does have cold beer, and maybe ice, served at well-used and mended tables with a few dozen chairs of mixed lineage. It’s like a lemonade stand the neighborhood kids set up, only with great conversation. I ended up hearing the life story of an Aussie filmmaker who met a Scottish marine engineer at Bar One years ago. “I snuck aboard his boat one night, and we have been traveling the world together ever since,” she told me.

As I listened to her story, I realized that I was making diagrams in the sand with my toes. This, I thought, is what you are supposed to do at a Caribbean beach bar while listening to stories.

There’s also The Cocktail Lab, a bar known for its imaginative concoctions of spirits and fruit mixtures. It’s a place filled with expats in flowery dresses and Hawaiian shirts—definitely upscale locals. I ordered a simple rum in a tall glass with ice and tonic. No lime. The waiter’s shock told me I’d made an unforgivable error in local protocol. Still, I got to chat with a German expat in her 70s who fell in love with a local, moved here, opened an architect’s office, and wound up designing and building many of the larger villas and vacation homes on the island.

Nearby is Coco’s Place for a fine dinner. The lobster took more than an hour because someone had to run across town to buy one. Just across the alley is the Sailor’s Beach Cafe. It has an open mic night, and we got to listen to some fine local voices and instrumentalists.

Last but not least, we sampled the Open Deck Bar & Restaurant, a well-put-together operation by Daffodil, a Bequian woman who has been growing her enterprise for more than 20 years. When we were here 15 years ago, she and her son ran the only fuel and water ferry service in the bay. She still does, but has added laundry, rental apartments, and the bar and restaurant. 

All the places on Bequia have their charms, but to me, the most authentic beach bar is The Bamboo on Princess Margaret Beach. This is the kind of place I dream of as I suffer through gales and angry seas on my way to these tropical islands.

The post Beach Bars of Bequia appeared first on Cruising World.

Dramatic underwater rock formations. Hideouts of schooling juvenile sergeant majors no bigger than a baby’s fingernail. Stretches of beach with sand as fine as powder. Anchorages without other boats—better yet, no cell phone service. Hermit crab races. Heart-thumping trail hikes to panoramic views. Honeybee rum cocktails. Conch ceviche.

Secret? Special? Sailing west to east, reaching into the trade winds, these unforgettable attractions of the British Virgin Islands exude the timeless beauty of a magical destination sailors would be crazy not to love.

However you label the diverse ingredients of a Caribbean sailing vacation, one thing is true: Anchorages, beaches, not-to-miss moments and delectable tastes are always new when seen through the eyes of another person.

In that spirit, we canvassed captains, charterers and charter operators in the know. Here’s their intel.

Great Tobago and Little Tobago

These two westernmost islands are the territory’s only nesting site for the magnificent frigatebird, and home to terns, pelicans, laughing gulls, and tropicbirds. Graced with rugged cliffs, protected by the BVI National Parks Trust, surrounded by submerged rocks and reef systems, this site rewards experienced navigators, divers, and snorkelers. Loggerhead turtles, reef sharks, blue-spotted eagle rays, tarpons, jacks and wahoo are abundant. Use the Parks Trust mooring on the west side of Great Tobago. This area is prone to swells. Day visits only.

—Nim and Fabiola Hirschhorn, Lagoon 450S Luna, Dream Yacht Charter

Little Jost Van Dyke

The “simple life, no strife” B-Line Beach Bar is tucked in its own bay and easy to miss if you’re not looking for it. Situated on the south side of Little Jost Van Dyke, access is by dinghy or a swim in. It’s owned by Bonkey Callwood, who serves some of the territory’s best cocktails, including some made with honeybee rum. Good food, too. shoot the breeze or take up the challenge of the beach cornhole game. 

—Andrew Thompson, founder & director, Horizon Yacht Charters

Sandy Cay

Up for more competition? Head southeast to Sandy Cay. Dinghy ashore, set up the track by drawing a few lines in the sand, build teams from the bands of hermit crabs crawling around — and cheer them on. You’ve now (un)officially participated in the hermit crab races of Sandy Cay! Whether it’s a sprint or an endurance trial, you’re in for excitement, surprises, and hilarity. This crazy competition originated with the Callista Crab Challenge.

—Roland and Vanessa Schaeffer, Lagoon 62 Callista

Smuggler’s Cove, Tortola

Nigel’s Snack Shack, a rustic pub set back from a gorgeous beach on the northwest tip of Tortola, offers the perfect break from swimming and snorkeling. Owner Nigel scores big points for his storytelling, personalized customer service, grilled dishes and mixed drinks. Arrive early to spend a few hours at this small anchorage; watch out for the coral heads as you anchor.

—Richard and Shannon Hallett, Moorings 5000 Abby Normal To

Rainbow Canyon, Pelican Island

Next door to the popular Indians rock formations, Rainbow Canyon is a gem of a dive and snorkel site that’s often overlooked. It’s a fabulous option when the Indians are packed, and more protected when the winds blow. Look for the Parks Trust mooring balls on the southwest side of Pelican Island. For divers, there are beautiful rock formations with plenty of hiding spots for lobsters and octopus. Highly recommended!

—Jeff and Caitlin Nichols, Fountaine-Pajot 58 Port to Vino

Money Bay, Norman Island

Secluded Money Bay on Norman Island’s south side is the spot for a break from cell phones, civilization, and other boats.  A cove in the eastern end of the bay provides protection for one boat to spend a night here in most weather conditions. Water visibility is often very clear and there’s great snorkeling along the rocky shoreline. Brown Pants dive site is nearby. A short dinghy ride to a rocky beach leads you to a fantastic hiking trail that extends the length of the island to the Bight, with great panoramic views along the way.

—Giovanni Damiani and Martina Merkel, Privilege 65 Lolalita

Salt Island

Here’s an invigorating day trip: Sail to Salt, a little more than two miles east of Peter Island. Anchor in Salt Island Bay. Set out on a hike with snorkel gear for a dip at the deserted bight of South Bay. The rarely explored windward side gives a vibe that makes the outing well worth the effort.

—Roland and Vanessa Schaeffer, Lagoon 62 Callista 

Prickly Pear Island

Of all the possible waypoints at Virgin Gorda, this could be the best one of all, protected from easterly winds. A basic beach camp on Prickly Pear Island, in Gorda Sound, facing Eustatia Island, is a swimming, standup paddle boarding and kayaking wonderland. Spend a couple of hours and kayak around PP. Just amazing.

—Richard and Shannon Hallett, Moorings 5000 Abby Normal To

Oil Nut Bay, Virgin Gorda

If by now you’re feeling like you could use a little pampering and a pool, the best option by far is Nova Restaurant at Oil Nut Bay, Virgin Gorda. The channel is well marked going out between Saba Rock and the Bitter End Yacht Club. Markers guide you all the way to beautiful docks. Mooring balls are also available. My personal favorite.

—Cindy Chestnut, co-owner, Conch Charters

Anegada: Flamingo Pond, Horseshoe Reef, Conch Island

If the territory’s only low-lying island is on your itinerary, then make the most of it and stay a night or two. Anegada, 11 miles long, is protected by Horseshoe Reef, which is as long as the island itself and runs to the southeast. Hire a local guide for a jam-packed day of snorkeling the reef in the shallows and visits to Flamingo Pond, where a flock of the orangish-pink birds thrive, and Conch Island, hillocks of centuries’ worth of discarded conch shells.

—Nim and Fabiola Hirschhorn, Lagoon 450S Luna, Dream Yacht Charter

The post 10 Gems of the BVI appeared first on Cruising World.

The sun, the warm spray, the thrill of driving fast boats all day and then partying hard every night deep in the Caribbean—it’s an awesome trifecta. 

If you’re a cruising sailor who wants to give racing a try, there’s good news: You no longer have to fly into Antigua’s English Harbour, walk the docks, crew aboard a large schooner, and then pass out on sail bags on deck for the night. Today, there are many more options for getting in on the action during the Caribbean regatta season. 

The 2024 season began in January with the RORC Transatlantic Race. In February, there was the Caribbean Multihull Challenge, the St. Maarten Heineken Regatta and the RORC Caribbean 600. The season winds down starting in April with the BVI Spring Regatta, Antigua Classic Regatta and Antigua Sailing Week. 

If you’re on your own boat, then you can enter a cruising division using white sails (no black carbon fiber and no spinnaker). There are bareboat divisions for cruisers too. 

Don’t have your own cruising boat or bareboat? Each regatta website has a “crew board” where skippers post openings. Or do it the old-fashioned way: Walk the docks, hang out at the yacht club bar, and introduce yourself. Bring your sailing résumé with you. 

Tricked-out racing machines are available from a number of chartering outfits, usually at a higher price than cruising bareboats. Chris and Lucy Jackson run LV Yachting, a racing-boat charter agency in the UK. Chris brought Pata Negra, an IRC 46, to Antigua for a group of British sailors to charter. LV Charters also has a half-dozen retired Volvo Ocean 65s available for charter. 

Global Yacht Racing in the UK brings its Beneteau 47.7s into the Caribbean each season and offers berths for singles and couples—including sailors who are racing for the first time. 

“We take them out for a few days before the races to get them familiar with the positions and maneuvers, then it’s full-on racing,” says Andy Middleton, director of Global Yacht Racing. 

On Deck, based in English Harbour, offers a race-training program aboard a Farr 65, Spirit of Juno, and rents bunks aboard for regattas. 

Even people who are used to sailing faster typically enjoy racing charters. San Francisco-based racing skipper Bratz Schneider is among them. He chartered a Beneteau Oceanis 46 from The Moorings for a vacation with his regular racing team, and told me that they couldn’t get enough, even at a slower pace than they usually hit. “We were all having a blast,” he says. For more information about these events and all of the ones in between, check out caribbean-sailing.com/calendar.

The post Navigating the Caribbean Regatta Season appeared first on Cruising World.

In many ways, anchoring is more about technique than gear. I was reminded of this fact at the end of a two-week delivery from Antigua to Martinique in the Eastern Caribbean. As we rounded the final headland on Martinique and turned east, Diamond Rock was just off the starboard bow. A few miles ahead was a line of white sailboats so thick that we couldn’t see the beach. 

“That’s Sainte-Anne,” I told my family, who had joined me as crew for this Christmas delivery. “That’s the end of the line for this voyage.”

This small, charming beach village is home to one of the nicest open roadsteads in the islands. More than 200 boats were anchored here. I know because I counted them. 

The bottom rose gradually to 30, then 15 feet, as we nosed in amid the moored fleet. We were surrounded. My daughter, Ren, was a senior at Maine Maritime Academy at the time, and she was at the helm, watching the depth finder as acting captain on our 54-foot charter boat. I was downgraded to deckhand and relegated to anchor duty at the bow.

I watched the bottom, which was a checkerboard of dark and light areas, some sand and some hard, bare coral. I picked out a patch of sand, motioned for Ren to stop, and lowered the hefty CQR anchor.

She backed down, and the chains rattled out. When the 10-fathom mark on the chain slipped over the bow roller, I give Ren the signal and snubbed the chain. 

“What’s the depth?” I hollered. It looked like 20 feet.

“Eighteen,” she replied.

Perfect.

I watched the chain raise up and straighten, and then drop. I leaned over the bow pulpit and, with my foot on the chain, felt the chain vibrate, dragging along the bottom. It straightened out again. I felt the anchor dig in, then break free, bouncing over the hard bottom.

We tried another spot. Then another. On the third attempt, I again felt the chain vibrate as it straightened out on the bottom. The anchor dragged, and the chain rose up in a straight line. The boat stopped.

“The anchor is set,” I hollered. “Give the boat another nudge in reverse, just to make sure.”

I let out another 10 fathoms, rigged the snubber, and walked aft to confer with the skipper.

“Do you trust this spot?” I asked Ren. She looked puzzled.

“I don’t,” I said.

“Then what do we do?” she asked.

“You are the captain,” I said.

“We dive on the anchor?” she replied, as more of a question than a statement.

Both of us swam out along the chain in masks, snorkels and fins. We followed the chain as it swept to the seabed, then paid along the bottom. When we saw the anchor, we dove down to find the plowshares of the CQR buried in sand. All that was visible was the shank and the chain. A 10-foot furrow in the bottom showed where the anchor had dragged before righting itself and digging in.

Once we were back on board, I asked her, “Now, how do you feel?”

“I think we’ll stay put,” she replied. I agreed. There was nearly 60 feet of chain on the bottom, then another 60 feet rising up in a gentle catenary to the surface.

Our visual inspection was one of the best anchoring techniques I know. Placing a foot on the chain can also tell you a lot about what’s happening on the bottom at the other end of the chain. Not so much on the nylon rode, but the foot can still feel the anchor bounce, drag and set—or not.

The post Anchoring in Paradise appeared first on Cruising World.

From cash register to marina director, watersports helmsman Nick Putnam knows better than most about the ins and outs of Bitter End. In our sit-down with Nick, he recalls his come-up story of how he went from “What’s watersports?” to leading the team, plus he hints at some exciting coming attractions for BEYC 2.0.

BE: So, Nick, how’s it feel to be at the helm of Bitter End’s marina and watersports program?

NP: Honestly, it has happened very organically. It certainly didn’t happen overnight, so, you know, I feel like at this point, it comes easy, in a sense.

BE: Take us back to your first days at Bitter End. When did you arrive onshore?

NP: February of 2013. Honestly, it’s gone by pretty quickly.

BE: You’re celebrating a decade in the North Sound. What brought you here?

NP: I was working as a sailing instructor at a summer camp up in Michigan, where I’m from. I was 18 years old and barely knew how to sail, but the camp gave me an opportunity to really fall in love with it. The other lucky thing was that Jerome Rand, BEYC’s then-watersports director, also worked at that camp. I was the kid just following him around everywhere, pestering him constantly to figure out what I needed to do, what certifications I needed, to get to Bitter End. I just wanted to work with the watersports team, so when I actually got hired, I didn’t even mind that it was as the kids’ camp director, which is one step down even from being an instructor. But I was able to start giving sailing lessons, and I was learning to windsurf at the time, and doing all these activities that aren’t really a thing in Michigan.

BE: So your first exposure to many watersports was at Bitter End itself?

NP: Yes, I knew how to sail and I had some experience with windsurfing, but very little.

BE: Is windsurfing still your favorite watersport?

NP: It is. I’d say most people know me as a pretty avid windsurfer. People always kind of give me a hard time for it, because, by and large, kiting really rose in popularity, and then the latest and greatest is now wingfoiling. But I’m a bigger guy, and as I joke to my friends, I’m not really built to fly through the air like some. But I like to go fast, and I like the physical nature of windsurfing. It’s a good workout.

BE: Speaking of foils, where is the future of watersports headed?

NP: Well, the sports themselves are changing, and everything’s becoming pretty foil-dominant. Look, foils are a ton of fun, but the biggest thing is that the equipment disconnects into a few different pieces and goes into a bag. And so you easily travel with it or store it on a boat, and take it out just as easily.

BE: What does that mean for Bitter End’s programming, where watersports old and new are central to its appeal? What will stay and what might change?

NP: The Hobie Cats aren’t going anywhere—they’re forever popular. They were the pillar that we started with when we reopened, and we’ve built around that. And even windsurfing, we still get a fair amount of people coming down for it—which is great, obviously, because you know how I like it. Plus, a lot of guests, some of them don’t even want to go out on the water; they just want to see the windsurfers out there. So those iconic elements of Bitter End’s watersports will always be here.

As for what’s new, the biggest thing is just that we are in this kind of second iteration of Bitter End. In many ways, it’s so similar, but it’s also very much different. And so, we have an opportunity to try something out, and see if it works. If it doesn’t work, we try something else, you know? The same with the team—we’re bringing in the next generation and giving them opportunities to contribute. So that’s been the probably the most rewarding part.

BE: Where are you most likely to be found on your days off?

NP: Sometimes you can find me in the laundry room, sadly. [Laughs] No, I’d say, depending on what the day has given me, it likely includes a water activity. If it’s a calm day, I’m down to the beach, just hanging out, in and out of the water, probably got the barbecue going. I mean, even on a day off, you’ll likely find me back at BEYC, either down at watersports or at the Reef Sampler Bar.

BE: To that point, people often say that Bitter End feels more like a family than a place. What’s in the water that you want to be here, even on your days off?

NP: I think it’s a few things. First, it’s incredibly cool to be able to come down here and pick up something new, whether it be watersports or a new connection. You’re rubbing elbows with a lot of interesting people but in a very relaxed way on a day-to-day basis. You’re given the world, almost, you know what I mean? Then it’s on you to take advantage of it.

Beyond that, not only do the owners treat you as family, but everyone who works here, past and present, becomes part of BEYC’s shared history. The place really does feel like it belongs to all of us. So, after a day spent working hard and then going hard on the water, you’re with your co-workers bonding over meals, maybe even a few rums, and you’re sharing stories—about yourselves, but also about people who have come and gone. Which is great, because when they come back, you feel like you already know them, even if you haven’t met yet.

And then, bit by bit, just as you get to know the place, the place gets to know you. I’ve found this part of the world to just be one of these places that continues to open up.

BE: Bitter End certainly has a legendary history, but especially now, it’s future is looking equally epic. Peer into your crystal coconut: What you see as the future of BEYC’s marina and watersports program? What happens in the next decade?

NP: Looking forward, I’d say the most exciting thing is really just building on the momentum that we’ve already got. With watersports, we’ll be reintroducing different things like excursions, whether it be snorkel trips or day trips to different islands. For the marina, we want to grow its size, but across the board, we’re also focused on living up to our name and turning Bitter End into more of a yacht club, which is fun as well. There’s a lot—I mean, a lot—to come. This is really just the beginning.

BE: Sounds like a pretty epic place to start.

NP: You know, I think the biggest thing is we just don’t want grow too much too fast. So what we’re doing right now is we’re adding things one by one or two by two, rather than saying, “Here’s a massive resort, push play, go!”

Instead, we’re growing incrementally with demand, so we know we’ll have exactly what customers are looking for. No more, no less. We want to help people enjoy this beautiful place, not overbuild and get in the way of their good time.

BE: To be honest, that sounds exactly how Bitter End was built the first time, piece by piece.

NP: Things really have come full circle, right? Bitter End started back in the late ’60s, early ’70s with a marina, restaurant, couple of rooms, and a little bit of watersports action, and then it became the big hit that it was for so many years. Will it be like it was before? I don’t think the plan is necessarily the same, but it’s a lot of the same working parts, for sure.

BE: Well it ended up in a pretty good place before, so it’s pretty thrilling to think about what’s to come.

NP: Exactly! I’m just honored to be here to see it through.

The post Center of Effort appeared first on Cruising World.

April typically marks the sunset of my “season” here in the Caribbean, when I must (albeit reluctantly) start thinking about heading back north, to cooler waters. For my float plan, that almost always means a stop in Bermuda. We are seldom alone.

The 2024 Atlantic Rally for Cruisers (ARC) Europe edition, with perhaps 40 boats, sets sail from  Sint Maartin on May 11, arriving in Bermuda around May 17. They’ll rendezvous with yachts that departed from the US East Coast, who will join the Caribbean fleet for the voyage across the Atlantic to the Azores and European ports.

In June, the semi-annual Newport to Bermuda Race will arrive with approximately 50 boats. A bunch of private yachts will also make the voyage to Bermuda on their own, sailing from the Caribbean, the Chesapeake, New York or Newport. This 4- to 5-day voyage is a great shakedown for boats and crew preparing for more extended voyaging, and June is the month to go, before hurricane season takes hold.

Why Bermuda? The allures are endless. It’s a quaint, well-cared-for piece of Britain plunked down 650 miles off the US East Coast, for one. The entire island is much like a park. There’s no heavy traffic, no trash on the highways. Everyone’s lawn is mowed. The place is immaculate. It also has everything a yacht and crew might require.

After any offshore run, there’s always something to be fixed, and Bermuda is rife with mechanics, sailmakers, and electronics and refrigeration technicians to lend a hand. There’s also a hardware store, fuel, water, provisions, numerous restaurants and the ubiquitous Dark and Stormy found at local hot spots like the legendary White Horse Tavern. US currency and credit cards are accepted. English is spoken, as Bermuda is a British Overseas Territory. Bermuda is well worth a few days of sightseeing, as evidenced by tourists flocking there for generations. Most important for cruisers, perhaps, is that Bermuda is a great spot to wait for favorable weather for crossing the Gulf Stream, heading east across the Atlantic, or steering your way south to the Caribbean.

Getting There

Sailing to Bermuda from the islands is a straight shot north, up “Route 65,” the 65th meridian. From Antigua to Bermuda is about 900 miles (typically 6 to 7 days). From there, Newport is 640 miles (another 5 days or so). To the Chesapeake is 600 miles (4 days). To the Azores, it’s 2000 miles (12 to 14 days)—and from there, another week to the Med or the UK.

Sailing will be brisk in the trades as you depart the islands. The trades will die out after a day or two, and you’ll have to motor for a few days through the Bermuda High, until the northeasterly or southwesterly breeze fills in. Once, on a delivery north to Annapolis, we motored for six days. Bring enough fuel for 100 hours of motoring. You’ll need to refuel when you get to Bermuda. More on that to come. 

Before You Depart

Before you cast off for Bermuda, go online and download the Bermuda pre-arrival paperwork. There are three forms. Everybody is required to fill out a landing card. Every country has one. They’re available at gotobermuda.com/bermuda-arrival-card. You can fill out the card and submit it online. Skippers of private yachts planning to stop in Bermuda must complete the Bermuda Mariner’s Travel Authorization process online. This can be found at rccbermuda.bm/sailbda.aspx, which includes information and the two forms you’ll need to complete and submit, including the SailClear form for Customs and Immigration. The Pre-arrival Safety Form must be completed by the skipper before you enter Bermuda. You can do it online, or you can fill out the form verbally in the comfort of your nav station, talking to Bermuda Radio on VHF, while 20 miles out at sea.

The Approach

With your paperwork complete, you are now ready to approach Bermuda. The island is relatively flat, you’ll see a sweep of lights from the airport and lighthouses before you see land. The island is ringed with shallow reefs, so approach with caution. There’s only one way into the island, and that’s through Town Cut on the northeast corner of the island. You’ll be arriving in Saint George’s Harbor, where all yachts clear in.

When you are still 50 miles away from Bermuda, you may hear Bermuda Radio talking to other yachts on VHF 16. Bermuda Radio is the island’s maritime control center. Hail them when you are 20 miles out, or they will call you. They have you on AIS and radar, and they’ll want to know who you are and your intentions. (If you’ve completed your Yacht Safety Information online, they’ll have it. If you haven’t they will ask you to do so.) From there, they’ll direct you to enter Town Cut or wait for shipping to enter or exit. Once inside, they’ll either direct you to tie up at Ordnance Island to clear in, or to anchor in Power Hole, across from the village, and wait.

The entrance channel into St. George’s is well marked, but the day markers on the port side are unlit. At night, have someone with a flashlight on the port side to light up the reflectors. Town Cut itself is narrow, then opens up into a large, well-protected harbor. The village of St. George’s is ahead to starboard.

Clearing In

All yachts are required to tie up at Ordnance Island. There’s room for two boats at a time. The skipper takes passports and the ship’s papers to the office on the dock for processing. In my experience, the folks there are a friendly lot, and if your paperwork is in order and has been submitted online, the whole process takes less than 30 minutes. If you are a yacht just passing through, a 5-day transit permit is required at $5 per meter. Cruising permits, for longer stays, are $6.50 per meter. There are no other fees. (ARC Rally boats are exempt from these transit fees.)

While you’re there, request a transit fuel waiver form. This will authorize you to take on duty-free fuel.

Dockage and Anchoring

You can anchor most anywhere in the harbor with no charge. Holding is good, even in a blow. There’s a dinghy dock on the quay in the village opposite the Customs dock. Trash and spent engine oil receptacles are there as well.

For dockage, you’ll find a number of places to tie-up alongside in the village or at the St. George’s Dinghy & Sports Club. Space in town is assigned by St. George’s Marina through its website. April, May and June are on a first-come, first-served basis, but it is still a good idea for vessels to submit a request via the website.

Tying up in town puts you and your crew right in the middle of things. Stores, modern and clean bathrooms, banks, pubs and the bus service. The St. George’s Dinghy & Sports Club is located at the east end of the harbor, to the right, just as you enter St. George’s Harbor. There’s stern-to space for two dozen yachts at their concrete pier. Water may be available, but not fuel. The clubhouse has a bar with a happy hour, pool tables and a dart board, laundry, showers and bathrooms. It’s a fifteen-minute walk into the village. The club hosts the annual ARC Homebound Rally.

Bermuda Yacht Services (BYS) is your friend in Bermuda. BYS will arrange anything you need from repairs and sails to mechanical and rigging services. BYS is located in the St. George’s Yachtsmen’s Center on Ordnance Island. Free WiFi, bathrooms and showers, an inside lounge, and benches on the porch are available for use.

Refueling

There is fuel in town at RUBiS Dowling’s Marine Service Station, but it’s not duty-free, so it can be pretty expensive. There are two options for taking on duty-free fuel. If there are enough boats needing fuel, Mark Sores at BYS will plan for a fuel truck to come down to the dockside. This gets done all at once, as one yacht after another comes alongside to top off. The price will be a couple of bucks cheaper than the non-duty free. (You’ll need that waiver you obtained at Customs.) If you are cruising alone and need fuel, you can get it duty-free at the big fuel depot at the Dockyard, at the other end of the island. From St. George’s, this will require a half-day’s motoring down, then all the way back. It’s a pleasant trip, and we’ve done it numerous times. 

Out and About

Bermuda’s name was given to the island by a Spanish captain, Juan de Bermúdez, who stumbled on the archipelago in 1505. The village of St. George’s was first settled in 1609, when an English ship, the Sea Venture, carrying colonists to Virginia, was swept onto Bermuda’s reefs during a storm. Shakespeare turned the event into his famous play, The Tempest. The crew and passengers managed to save much of their cargo, even enough lumber from the wrecked ship to build two, smaller ships, aboard which some colonists continued onward to Virginia. Two souls remained on the island.

The Virginia colony failed, but by 1612 a permanent settlement on Bermuda had been established. It’s the oldest English colony in the New World, eight years before Plymouth in Massachusetts. For a century or two, St. George’s served as Bermuda’s capital and its main port. During the American Revolutionary War, and the US Civil War, Bermuda’s “Forty Thieves,” the founding families, built their wealth on privateering, block-aid running and supplying ammunition to both sides. 

Even today, much of the village of St. George’s resembles an old village on the Cornish coast of England. Winding alleys of small, colorful cottages cover the hillside by the harbor, some dating back to the 1600s. There’s a very nice public restroom by the docks and a food store, Somers, a block away. They have most everything you’ll need for your next voyage, as well as a take-away buffet of hot and cold entries. A do-it-yourself laundromat is a short walk from the docks. A hardware store is on the main road, at the end of the commercial docks. The bus stops at the top of the hill. (Get your tickets at the nearby convenience store.) At the center of village, you’ll find banks, a post office, a stationery and drug store, clothing shops, and a handful of restaurants. Take the ten-minute stroll up and over the hill to Tobacco Bay Beach on the north side of the island, where a great pink-sand beach and snack bar await. Then, continue onward around Saint Catherine’s Point and back to the village. It’s about an hour’s walk.

Due in part to tourism but mostly to the island’s recent rise as an international insurance center, today, Bermuda is among the world’s wealthiest islands and, therefore, is expensive. Hamilton, the island’s current capitol, looks a bit like Miami, with an eclectic blend of gleaming high-rise office complexes, 1920s resort hotels and quaint cottages. You can catch a ride into Hamilton on a very nice and efficient bus service from St. George’s. There are no car rentals, so mopeds are the way to go.

Clearing Out

This is the easy part. No need to bring the boat alongside. Simply leave it on the dock or at anchor and proceed to Customs and Immigrations on foot. Then, it’s onward toward the Caribbean, US Mainland or Europe and beyond.

The post The Halfway Point: Sailing to Bermuda appeared first on Cruising World.

Windtraveler- haulout

Decommissioning your boat at the end of a season is a sad day for many a boat owner. Lucky for us we have a return ticket to Trinidad, a baby girl on the way, and very exciting cruising plans in our near future, so there is a lot to look forward to! Even so, putting a boat “on the hard” as it’s called is not only a little depressing, but an incredibly detailed process and involves a lot more than just taking off perishable food, closing the curtains and battening down the hatches.

Port of Spain, Trinidad is one of those harbors where you see the sad effects of boats that were “ridden hard and put away wet” as it were. Scott and I weren’t about to start cutting corners now and, as in everything we do when it comes to our boat, we went full-monty on the “hibernation of Rasmus.” Here is the list of what we did, and why (I should note that this list is not in chronological order):

1. Go through every single storage compartment and de-clutter – this is incredibly time consuming, and incredibly cathartic. We got rid of a LOT of unused stuff on our boat and made a TON of space for baby!

2. Empty holding tank, flush with fresh water, treat with chemical – holding tanks are beyond nasty, and doing a fresh water flush will ensure we don’t come back to a cesspool.

3. Top off diesel tank, treat with biocide – any vented container with a liquid in it has potential to be contaminated by water and heat, by topping off the tank and keeping it full there is less room for contamination to occur. In cold climates, topping off the tank will help curb condensation. In warm climates, it will help to slow the growth of algae. Biocide is a chemical that will also kill any algae that does begin to develop.

4. Shut off motor battery – won’t need that for a while!

5. Confirm solar panel is trickle-charging – we are not hooked up to shore power and want to make sure our house battery will always be trickle charged and full enough to run our bilge pump. Also, trickle charging your batteries when not in use will extend their life significantly.

6. Shut off propane solenoid on boat and on tanks themselves – gas leaks are no bueno.

7. Close fuel valve

8. Remove halyards and run messenger lines – we have another post on how damaging the sun can be, but believe me – UV rays are REAL people! Leaving halyards on the mast exposes them to harmful UV rays day in and day out and by removing them we’re adding life to our lines.

9. Clean head – after I did the fresh water flush of the tank (by running a hose to the toilet and continuously flushing fresh water into the tank) I thoroughly cleaned the toilet. Salt water left in a toilet will turn to a disgusting brown/grey slop in a matter of weeks. We left our toilet totally dry and scrubbed clean.

10. Power wash hull – most yards will do this right when they haul your boat out of the water. We are planning on re-painting the bottom of our boat when we return so it’s good to get all the growth and as much old antifouling off beforehand.

11. Store outboard and all other loose items on deck down below – this is more for theft reasons than anything else. If you have something on deck that might be tempting to a thief, stow it down below!

12. Remove and clean all sheets and dock lines, hang on boom – we used detergent and washed and scrubbed all our lines, they are now salt free, soft and clean for when we return. We hung them on the boom so they get air – better than leaving them all stacked on top of one another in a dark, damp locker.

13. Clean fenders, store hanging on boom – fenders are bleached and scrubbed and back to their former glory. We also stowed these on the boom.

14. Empty and clean ice box, leave open – iceboxes, in particular, need ventilation when left unused for long stretches of time.

15. Remove all food and perishables from pantries

16. Empty water tank, remove filter, keep all faucets open

17. Make sure hot water heater is emptied

18. Pickle water-maker – they say water makers are fantastic and reliable as long as they are used regularly. When not in use, you must “pickle” them so that the sensitive membrane inside doesn’t dry out. Luckily, our water maker is not only a breeze to use (we cannot sing it enough praise), but a breeze to pickle as well. Most pickling routines are incredible confusing but ours was a matter of changing out a filter. Some kits will preserve the membrane for 4-6 months, others for 6-9 months. We are going to have ours re-pickled in 4 months to be safe.

19. Clean and store all silverware in ziplock bags – we did this for two reasons, 1) to protect from the bug bomb we let off and 2) to keep dry and free from rust.

20. Store cleaning supplies in a bin to contain any spillage – we did this because when we were on the hard in Chicago we had a Windex bottle burst and stain our table.

21. Remove all garbage, clean containers – “clean containers” is the operative phrase here! Make sure to wipe down the insides of all bins with bleach or vinegar, you’d be surprised where little pieces of food might be waiting to turn into a science experiment.

22. Clean and store clothing/sheets/pillows and pillow cases in sealed bags – people who live on boats seasonally are very familiar with “boat smell”. It’s not very nice. We washed all our towels, sheets and clothes and stored them in sealed zip locks with dryer sheets.

23. Clean and store carpets in sealed bags – again, doing this will ensure we don’t turn into a moth motel and return to clean, mildew-free carpets.

24. Turn up all cushions to keep free from mildew – when a boat is closed up, ventilation is key. We turned up all our boat cushions to make sure they get some air. Moss doesn’t grow on a rolling stone and mildew won’t grow where there is air flow!

25. Drain and clean bilge

26. Confirm bilge pump is on in “automatic” position and working – this can be done by pouring a bucket of water in the bilge (which you’ll do to clean it, right?) and making sure it works.

27. Clean all overheads and walls & wipe down with vinegar – vinegar retards the growth of mildew, we wiped down pretty much every single surface of our boat with a 50/50 mixture of vinegar and water.

28. Clean all flooring and under flooring & wipe down with vinegar

29. Dehumidifier – if you haven’t noticed, mildew is a big deal on a boat down in the tropics and a never-ending battle. We bought a small dehumidifier that will help keep the interior of our boat moisture-free so that we don’t return to Jurassic Park.

30. Close all curtains – yep, UV damage can even sneak in through windows, hatches and portholes. Cover them up!

31. Cover boat deck to protect from UV damage and weather – I wrote about our tarp yesterday, this was a no-brainer for us.

32. Turn off all AC & DC switches

33. Remove sails store in an air-conditioned sail loft – the sails on Rasmus are just two years old and we want to keep them in good condition. For less than $10 a month we stored our sails in an air-conditioned sail loft right near the boat yard.

34. Wash decks – a boat that is left nice and clean is a happy boat!

35. Take photos of boat on stands

36. Fumigate interior with insect bomb – while we never saw another roach (or any sign of roaches) after this incident, we did have some tiny ants aboard. We fumigated with an insect bomb right before we left and we’re pretty sure we nuked the bastards.

37. Grease boat stands to prevent bugs – We bought standard grease from the chandlery and put a thick coating along the top of every single jack stand. The reason for this is that if any ants or bugs want “in” to our boat via the stands, they’ll be stuck in the grease and unable to get aboard.

38. Tape off hole at end of boom to prevent birds from nesting – we know people who this has happened to before and rumor has it, it ain’t pretty.

39. Place ant traps and roach motels throughout – just in case.

40. Lock boat (and outside lazarettes)

41. Secure any loose items in cradle area

42. Make sure Nicro vents are on and circulating

43. Open all inside cubicles and lockers to promote ventilation

44. Check/Top off engine oils – if you are due for an oil change you should do this as well.

45. Clean and clear all through-hull openings, close seacocks – but be sure to leave open the seacocks for the scupper drains and sink if you are going to have a dehumidifier on board.

46. Clean sea strainer, flush engine with fresh water – ever run your engine while your boat was out of the water? It’s pretty freaky. Our engine is water-cooled and we wanted to flush the salt water out of our engine so we ran a hose to the sea strainer and ran the engine for about 8 minutes. Worked like a charm! We’ll write more on this later…

47. Store dinghy on tarp on bow – while some people keep the dinghy on the davits, we opted to store ours on the bow over a tarp so it too is protected from the sun.

48. Drop anchor and chain, rinse and keep on palette below boat

49. Remove dodger & bimini canvas, clean and store in watertight bin – believe it or not, we found the best way to clean our canvas was to simply scrub them with a stiff brush while dry. They look brand new!

50. Arrange yacht guardianage for weekly/monthly checks – we have a boat service that will board Rasmus at least twice a month to make sure everything is still in working order. They will wash the deck, check the dehumidifier and bilge and read the battery meter to ensure we don’t run our batteries dead. We chose Dynamite Yacht Services to do this but there are plenty of others.

51. Email list of approved vendors/persons to Peake Yacht Services – we are in the “high security” area of Peake Yacht Services which means that no one is allowed in or out who is not approved. It’s an area where you cannot have any boat work done, no one can livaboard and where angry looking dogs roam at night. We had to send a list of approved persons who will be able to access Rasmus while we are away.

52. Leave boat key with manager at Peake’s

53. Go home, have a baby, and prepare for life as a crew of three! I guess this one applies only to us?
Have you ever left a boat down in the Caribbean for any length of time? What did we miss?

Love,
Brittany & Scott

_When two people, with the same life long dream of sailing around the world find each other, there’s only one thing to do… make it happen!
Which is precisely what we, Scott and Brittany, are doing aboard our boat, Rasmus, a Hallberg-Rassy 35 which departed from Chicago September 2010! Follow along at _

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