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.

Caribbean

Windward Islands

Tropical rainforests, barrier reefs, secluded anchorages: In the Windward Islands, you’ll get a taste of all that the Caribbean has to offer, and plenty of fine trade-wind sailing to boot. For sailors, there are multiple choices for your Windward Islands adventures, and from any of them, you can choose to make your sailing vacation as laid-back or as challenging as you’d like.

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Leeward Islands

The Leeward Islands are full of cruising hot spots, with much to offer to sailors, making passing through the Caribbean. lush scenery, vibrant reefs and a laid-back vibe make for the ultimate sailing destination.

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Lesser Antilles

The Lesser Antilles, in the Eastern Caribbean, are among the best charter destinations on the planet. Why? Diversity and conditions. The winds, seas and harbors in the Lesser Antilles are nearly ideal 99 percent of the time, and landfalls are perfectly spaced. In many of the most popular chartering waters, destinations are 30 to 40 miles apart — or less. This means you can get up at a reasonable hour, have a thrilling sail, and still manage to clear customs by happy hour.

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Cuba

Cuba is one of those mysterious destinations for US-based cruisers: close, intriguing, but seemingly out of reach. In 2017, when regulations were a bit more relaxed for cruisers, Cruising World hosted a rally to the island nation. The verdict? Cuba is everything we expected, and so much more.

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USA, Canada and Atlantic

Bahamas

The islands of the Bahamas are a cruiser’s playground — clear water, colorful communities and great sailing. The Bahamas offer endless islands to sail between and explore; from the Abacos to the Exumas, each island is unique.

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Intracoastal Waterway

Those with a mast height under 64 feet can also take advantage of the beauty and convenience of the Intracoastal Waterway on their trip north or south through the East Coast. While navigating the ICW requires lots of motoring, when conditions are good, the sailing is spectacular.

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Southern New England

Cruising through Long Island Sound, anchoring in the Great Salt Pond of Block Island, exploring the coast of Cape Cod – there are endless opportunities to enjoy a romp through Southern New England.

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The Great Lakes

Some of the best freshwater cruising in the world, the Great Lakes offer endless opportunities for exploration. Each lake offers unique cruising grounds, ports and conditions, from uncharted rocky inlets on the Canadian shores, to bustling cities.

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Bermuda

For as long as ocean-going sailors have been sailing the North Atlantic, Bermuda has been the crossroads and a popular race destination. But Bermuda is so much more than just a waypoint—it’s also a wonderful cruising destination.

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Nova Scotia

Packed with geologic and cultural history, the beautifully quiet coast of Nova Scotia is a nature lovers dream. Spruce trees, granite, grasses, sea, seals and terns, there is no shortage of excitement here.

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Europe

Greece Isles

The sailing can be challenging, but the landfalls — full of history, diverse towns and tasty cuisine — are worth it. Greece boasts thousands of islands, spread across an enormous geographical area stretching from the Aegean to the Ionian sea. Four of Greece’s five island groups are prime cruising areas: the Cyclades, the Saronic Islands, the Ionian Islands and the Dodecanese. Each group has its own unique character and charm, making each one worth exploring.

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South Pacific

Fiji

Cruising yachts from all over the world come to Fiji to anchor in the crystal-clear waters of the South Pacific. This Pacific crossroads is a refreshing break, with world-class snorkeling, beach combing and hiking.

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Marquesas

Smack dab in the middle of the South Pacific, the remote and untamed Marquesas are an unforgettable sailing stop – if you can get there. The topography of these young islands ­reflects the dawn of time; the exquisite drama of the islands’ violent, volcanic origins has not yet been smoothed and worn, with towering peaks rising above anchorages.

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Tasmania

Tasmania offers world class cruising, friendly, welcoming people, and a rich sailing history. The beautiful anchorages are uncrowded and private, and the sailing is world class. Just ask anyone who has ever sailed a Sydney Hobart Race.

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Whitsunday Islands

Pristine white sand beaches begging for footprints; the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park just waiting to be snorkeled; and our charter catamaran tugging on her mooring lines, ready to set sail. Who could resist such a tempting welcome from the Whitsunday Islands? Not us.

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Southeast Asia

Phang Nga Bay

Towering rock sculptures rise out of the water in Thailand’s Phang Nga Bay, providing a surreal backdrop for cruising. Anchor among the hongs and hope into a dinghy for an unforgettable experience exploring hidden caves and uncovering secrets from the 10,000 year history of the bay.

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Africa

Cape Town

From the blustery southeaster that can blow 45-60 knots for days on end, the “table cloth” on Table Mountain, to the waterfront with all its great seafaring tales and bars and the beaches of the suburb of Clifton, Cape Town has it all. The weather is like Southern California; you can stay active in the great outdoors year round.

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Madagascar

Madagascar is a true cruising gem. Its culture is a delightful convergence of Europe, Africa and the Middle East, as evidenced by the gourmet French meals, baked goods, mélange of rum drinks, vibrant materials for both traditional and modern dress, and the combination of French and local Malagasy language.

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South America

Chile

The Cape Horn archipelago conjures images of heroic voyages through inhospitable landscapes and harsh, raw conditions, the true beauty Chile is that it’s remote enough to be pristine, but not isolated enough that you feel completely cut off from the rest of the world.

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Antarctica

Antarctica

Cold, unforgiving and a challenge for even the most seasoned sailor, there isn’t quite any place on earth like Antarctica. Just ask anyone who has been, though, and you’ll find that the journey to the bottom of the world was unforgettable.

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The post Top 20 Cruising Destinations for Your Bucket List appeared first on Cruising World.

From Martinique to Grenada, the Windward Islands trace the border of the southern Caribbean Sea. They include four countries, dozens of islands—many of them uninhabited—steady trade winds, and hundreds of miles of navigable coastline. This tropical playground is an ideal sailing destination for seasoned sailors and first-time charterers alike. 

At the northern end of the Windwards is Martinique, the only French territory of the group. With its fine wine, boulangeries and chic Paris fashions, it’s the island where resisting indulgence is ­hardest. It’s also a major yachting destination with skilled technicians, though it’s often the most expensive. Colorful colonial architecture dots the coastline, and cafes and restaurants line the beaches. 

St. Lucia’s mountainous coastline beckons to the south of Martinique, with tourist destinations such as the Pitons bringing well-deserved fame. Diving and snorkeling can provide equally spectacular views underwater. There is no shortage of all-inclusive luxury resorts and romantic retreats, especially in the area around the Pitons.

St. Vincent and the Grenadines, by contrast, is where sailors get away from the crowds. The west coast of the St. Vincent mainland is ­rural, secluded and steep, making anchoring and mooring a challenge. Almost no yacht services are available, ­except at the Blue Lagoon Hotel and Marina at the southern end of the island. 

From there, sailors can leave the mainland behind and head south to the Grenadines for idyllic turquoise Caribbean water. Sandy, uninhabited islets speckle the horizon. The Tobago Cays are on par with the Pitons as far as cinematic vistas, and are the destination for charter yachts.

Grenada, the southernmost island in the Windwards (just outside the hurricane belt), has a charming, rural, mountainous interior flanked by palm-shaded white-sand beaches. With its abundant boatyards and marine services, Grenada is now a thriving yachting community that many sailors return to season after season.

A consistent 15- to 20-knot breeze, sunny skies and the fact that most islands are within a half day’s sail mean the options are so vast, where to go really depends on what you’re seeking. With that in mind, here are the best anchorages in the Windwards. 

Best for ­Provisioning and Shopping

Le Marin on Martinique is a place where boulangeries and affordable French imports (yes, cheese and wine) abound. Many sailors make the hop from St. Lucia to Martinique just to go shopping. 

Provisioning is made easy by services such as Appro-Zagaya and Appel à Tous, which offer provisioning, knowledgeable advice, and delivery to the dock. Appel à Tous also has an app to place an order and mark the boat’s location for delivery, whether it be on a dock, on a mooring or at anchor. If fashion is what you’re after, anchor in Fort-de-France and explore the boutique-lined streets. A short bus ride away you’ll find La Galleria and Genipa, shopping malls with chic clothing and jewelry.  

Best for Diving and Snorkeling

The Tobago Cays, part of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, has a shallow, fringing reef that forms a gentle arc between ­sandy islets, dividing the crystalline, turquoise water from the plummeting Atlantic Ocean. Channels of white sand cut through dense reef, where damselfish dart in and out of their coral homes. Inside the reef, the anchorage encompasses a marine protected area frequented by green and hawksbill turtles. Don a mask and fins, and watch the turtles munch on seagrass, or venture out with the dinghy to Horseshoe Reef and tie onto a snorkeling mooring. (Scuba enthusiasts must dive with a local dive shop.) 

Carriacou, which belongs to Grenada, has one of the Caribbean’s most spectacular dives. Sister Rocks is northwest of Tyrell Bay, with black corals, soft gorgonians and ­iridescent-blue sponge vases that spill down the steep, sloping reef. The top 30 feet of ocean is often teeming with schools of baitfish or purple creole wrasse dancing in rays of sunlight. The current sweeps divers around the base of the islands as seabirds nest in craggy cliffs above. Harmless nurse sharks nestle into rocky overhangs below. This is an advanced dive with currents that can be especially strong. 

St. George’s is the capital on Grenada, an island where 15 wreck-dive sites scatter the southern coast. They include the “Titanic of the Caribbean,” the Bianca C. This 600-foot cruise ship sank in 1961. Advanced divers can explore the intact swimming pool at 120 feet deep. For beginners, the Veronica L, in less than 50 feet of water, is a favorite. The site is shallow enough for light to illuminate the coral-encrusted open cargo hold and the intact crane, making for a striking scene. 

Best for Hiking 

Sainte-Anne is a village on Martinique, providing access to more than 100 miles of hiking trails that are mostly well-designed and -marked. Sailors can try everything from an eight-hour round-trip hike up to the summit of Mount Pelée (about 4,580 feet above sea level) to moderate trails that follow the coastline. A trailhead for the nearly 17-mile coastal Trace des Caps is in Anse Caritan, just south of Saint-Anne. The trail links a series of interesting areas to explore, including Etang des Salines, a mangrove lagoon with winding boardwalks, and Savane des Pétrifications, an arid, coastal-desert landscape reminiscent of the moon. 

Soufriere and the Pitons on St. Lucia have terrain that can be moderately to extremely challenging. Gros Piton, despite its name, is the easier of the two pitons to hike, though the second half of the hike consists of steep stairs dug into the hillside. Petit Piton is shorter in elevation, but the climb is significantly steeper, much of it relying on the use of ropes to pull yourself up the cliffside. For less of a challenge and more-rewarding views, trek up Tet Paul, which offers spectacular views of both pitons, the bay below and the coastline on the other side.

Bequia’s deeply ­ingrained ­seafaring heritage is a major draw to the ­island, while ­sailors make the hop to Martinique for ­superb provisioning. 

Grenada’s inland section is lush and mountainous, with trails that cut through ­tropical rainforest, along mountain ridges, and into verdant valleys of cocoa, spice and fruit plantations. There are also 18 waterfalls and a crater lake to explore. Sailors can join the Grenada Hash House Harriers, an informal hiking group that lays a different trail and meets every Saturday afternoon. Upwards of 100 sailors, expats, locals and students gather for a jovial romp through the bush, and there are almost always carpooling options to get to the trailhead. 

Best for Artisans and Handicrafts

Bequia, in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, has a deeply ingrained seafaring heritage that includes whaling. It also has a long history of artisans and handicrafts, which means sailors can find great examples of scrimshaw (intricate carvings on whale bone) and model-boat building. A single boat model can take weeks to produce. Generations of skill go into everything, from selecting and felling the tree and curing the wood to painting and varnishing it, and threading delicate rigging. Most craftspeople set up stalls along the waterfront town of Port Elizabeth, where sailors also can find brightly painted calabash bowls, woven hats and baskets, coconut ­sculptures, and jewelry made from seeds. 

Best for Nightlife

Most islands in the Windwards have annual festivals or carnivals that are worth checking out. Grenada Sailing Week at the end of January is a Caribbean Sailing Association-accredited regatta with prizes, parties and nightly live music. Serious competitors and casual cruisers alike come together for the friendly competition. The Bequia Easter Regatta in April draws an even larger crowd. Traditionally, there are events for yachts and local double-enders, and the island buzzes with newcomers and returning champions. For music lovers, the St. Lucia Jazz and Arts Festival in May is the place to be. Within the past 30 years, its genres have expanded to include reggae, pop and gospel. An array of international stars take the stage for more than a week of live performances that go on into the wee hours. 

Best for Foodies

Fort-de-France on Martinique is the place to sample foie gras, caviar and escargot. Martinique has the best of the Caribbean’s fine French dining, with contemporary wine pairings and sophisticated presentations. Casual bistros and boulangeries on every corner overflow with fresh pastries. Even the simplest of lunches—a baguette layered with brie and sausage—is of a quality not found on the other Windward Islands. 

Bequia, in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, has restaurants along the waterfront of Port Elizabeth. The Belmont Walkway divides the turquoise bay from bistro tables and barstools. In the Windwards, this is the widest variety of restaurants in one area, including many casual Caribbean Creole options. For a sweet treat, try Marianne’s homemade ice cream in the picturesque waterfront courtyard of the Gingerbread Hotel. 

Best for Solitude

The Windward Anchorage at Mayreau, in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, has coral heads that dot a small barrier reef off the Atlantic coast. A deep channel runs along the rocky shoreline and opens up into a sandy bay inside the reef. With only the Tobago Cays in the distance, the wind blows unencumbered across the glistening sea. A single restaurant ashore provides the only connection to the outside world, offering the convenience of not cooking if the anchorage gets too rolly. 

Sandy Island is part of Grenada. Not to be confused with Sandy Island in Carriacou, it lies just off Grenada’s northern coast. The island is surrounded by a shallow coral reef. Boats need a shallow draft and skippers need a sharp eye to make it through the narrow, 5-foot-deep channel into this secluded, one-boat anchorage. 

White Island at Carriacou, also part of Grenada, has ­windswept vegetation that spills from a rocky pinnacle overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, tapering to a small ­peninsula of fine white sand. Both this island and its neighbor, Saline Island, are uninhabited, but Saline can be popular and crowded. By contrast, sailors usually have White Island to themselves, perhaps because anchoring can be difficult on the edge of the deep channel between reefs.

Best in a Big Blow

Grenada’s Port Egmont has a deep bay on the Atlantic coast. It takes a dogleg as the ­coastline transitions from rocky scrubland to thick ­mangroves. The entrance to the outer bay is reef-strewn and can be tricky, especially in a swell, but inside, there’s a deep lagoon that provides shelter from the surge. Port Egmont is the best option when offshore hurricanes disrupt the regular trade winds, and the prevailing wind and surge swing to the west. 

Tyrell Bay at Carriacou is a long and winding ­mangrove lagoon that’s one of the best hurricane holes in the Caribbean, especially for shallow-draft vessels that can make it through the ­4-foot-deep bottleneck into the inner bay. A wide, dense perimeter of mangrove forest protects the inner lagoon from heavy winds and surge. The lagoon is part of the Sandy Island/Oyster Bed marine ­protected area, and is accessible only under threat of a named storm.

Le Marin at Martinique is a deep, sprawling bay where mangrove lagoons finger off into 10 to 20 feet of water, deep enough for most yachts to tuck in and ride out a storm. The innermost bay is further protected from the wind by hills on either side. Anchoring in the mangrove lagoons is permitted only under threat of a hurricane, and the lagoons tend to fill up fast, as Le Marin is the yachting capital of Martinique. 

Best for a Last-Minute Haulout

Grenada has three large boatyards and many skilled, affordable technicians. If you’re coming from the north, and if time and distance are a major factor, then Grenada’s sister island of Carriacou is a day’s sail closer and might be the better choice. Carriacou has two haulouts, both in the main anchorage of Tyrell Bay, where most yacht services are located. Though Carriacou’s selection of services isn’t as vast as Grenada’s, parts can often be brought up within a day or two.  

Martinique is an option in the northern end of the Windwards. Le Marin is the island’s center of yachting. Though there is only one yard, it is large and ­well-equipped. Parts and technicians are top-notch, with a price tag to match. The nation’s capital, Fort-de-France, also has a boatyard. It is geared more toward motoryachts, and it’s a good choice for engine or mechanical issues.  

In all of these destinations, the time of year will affect space and availability. At the beginning and end of hurricane season (May and November), many boatyards are booked up months in advance. Some make space for a quick haul and launch in an ­emergency.

The post Best Anchorages in the Windward Islands appeared first on Cruising World.

One of the things that makes the Windward Islands such a fantastic place to sail is the wind — it’s always blowing, or at least it has been the three times I’ve visited. Friends and I have bashed our way northward between islands, sailing hard on the breeze in big open-ocean swells, and we’ve surfed down waves with the speedo pegged in the teens while reaching south. Even in the lee of the islands, where the water’s flat and the breeze might go dead-calm, the crew has been kept on its toes by gusts that can come barreling down the valleys from the mist-shrouded peaks at any moment.

Those glorious trade winds came on with a vengeance one day last winter as five pals and I sailed south along the coast of Martinique aboard a Moorings 5800 catamaran, bound for St. Lucia. With the anemometer hovering in the mid-30s, it was a day better suited for a snug harbor and snorkeling, but we were set to fly home to the frozen north the next morning, so like it or not, our boat, Double D, had to be returned to its base in Rodney Bay.

Had I been the one on the wheel, my knuckles would have been white, for sure. Instead, as the puffs came on and the apparent wind pushed 50 knots, my fingers clutched an ice-cold brew and I sat back to enjoy the ride, confident that Capt. Cosmas Elibox — “Cosy,” as he liked to be called — had it all under control. Welcome to the pleasures of a crewed charter.

This little adventure came together at the suggestion of The Moorings general manager Josie Tucci. Why not, she said, join her in St. Lucia aboard the six-cabin 5800 for a sail up to Martinique to check out the rum-distillery tours the company was about to launch?

Why not, indeed? We brought along photographer Marianne Lee to chronicle our investigative-reporting efforts, so that still left two more cabins for guests. Josie invited along Nick Crabtree, a racer who works with Pindar International and handles logistics for the Volvo Ocean Race and other grand-scale regattas. I tapped hometown friends and sailors Tom and Kathy Famulari, who’d recently been smitten by the Caribbean during a bareboat charter of their own.

Besides finding flights to get us to St. Lucia on a Saturday afternoon, the biggest concern before the trip began was where we’d be able to watch the Super Bowl the day after we arrived in the Caribbean. Tom, Kathy and I are from New England, after all, and the Patriots were shooting for another victory and Tom Brady’s fifth championship ring. Missing the game wasn’t an option.

We needn’t have worried; Cosy had us covered. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

At the start of our adventure, we arrived dockside too late for our planned Saturday departure, so we made the most of our first evening in the Caribbean by getting our charter briefing out of the way and settling in aboard Double D. Our orientation involved rounds of rum punches, followed by a fine dinner of steaks, veggies and spuds, washed down by a delicious malbec. Chef Dekoda “Vicky” Dowers immediately impressed us with her culinary skills, learned on her home island of nearby St. Vincent and honed by years of practice in the charter trade.

First thing Sunday morning, Cosy collected our passports and headed off to customs to take care of paperwork. Josie took the opportunity to stretch her legs on a little run accompanied by first mate Brad Gangardine, a strapping and handsome lad who kept the ladies highly entertained and answered our every food and drink request with a gleaming smile. I walked a similar route toward Pigeon Island National Landmark, a hilly park on St. Lucia’s northwest coast. Sunday is play day for St. Lucians, and traffic was brisk with cars and pickup trucks full of beach-bound families. Along the roadside, horses searched for morsels in the scrub brush, and roosters, seemingly everywhere, crowed incessantly as the sun, heat and humidity soared in unison.

Back at Double D, by the time breakfast was done, Cosy had returned and we were off. Outside the marina, we paused briefly to raise the mainsail — I should say the crew raised the main; we sat back and watched — then we rounded Pigeon Point and sailed hard on the wind toward Martinique, barely visible on the horizon, 20 miles to the north.

Underway aboard the 5800, the flybridge was the place to be. The 360-degree view was magnificent, and between the helm station and winches forward, and the fridge, grill and drink coolers aft, there were comfortable couches in the shade of the bimini and lounge chairs in the sun. As the miles ticked off, Cosy and Brad, both St. Lucians, answered our many questions about island life and our itinerary over the next few days. The breeze was close to perfect, and we made good progress with a single reef in the main and the genoa rolled out. Slowly, tall, angular peaks in the center and on the north shore of Martinique came into focus, as did the broad valleys to the south, where bananas, sugar and other crops are grown.

Our destination for the day was Ste. Anne, a lovely village on the south coast, and Le Marin, the harbor next door. Cosy never considered firing up the engines to get us in faster. Instead, we approached by sail, tacking right up until we reached the harbor, where we were met by Club Med kite- and windsurfers out enjoying the brisk trades and flat water.

Once anchored, our attention turned to game-day preparations: tasty hors d’oeuvres, and rum bombs to wash them down. Then, with evening approaching, Cosy ferried us ashore. As luck would have it, right in front of us we found Mango Bay, a friendly, open-air restaurant with a television tuned to a French sports channel showing guys tossing a football around the studio.

Kickoff was imminent, so we grabbed an open table right under the screen and discovered we were surrounded by several other spirited Yanks from the anchorage. Most were New Englanders, and like us, they must have been tempted to keel-haul the lone loud and strutting Falcons fan. He took delight in taunting us repeatedly throughout the first half as Atlanta put point after point on the board, and then sat stunned and thoroughly humiliated when his team choked it up big time in the second. Go Pats!

Let the Tours Begin

Monday, the islanders went back to work, and so did we. Breakfast was served early, then the six of us were shuttled ashore to briefly explore Le Marin’s waterfront while waiting for a van to take us to our first distillery, Habitation Clément, a spectacular sugar plantation in Le François, on the island’s east coast. The buildings and surrounding grounds have been restored as an interpretation center of Creole culture.

To get there, we snaked through groves of banana trees, their fruit covered in sacks to keep away the insects, and across broad, green valleys dotted with the occasional village. Up we climbed over the island’s mountainous spine, pausing at the top for a view of the inlets below that are protected from the boisterous Atlantic by offshore reefs.

At Habitation Clément, we rented headsets that provided an English-language self-guided tour of the plantation and we set off down the path from the visitors center. At each stop along the way, we paused and listened: The sprawling fig tree was once thought to house evil spirits; towering royal palms were a refuge for migrating birds; a story accompanied each of the many sculptures created by local artists. We visited the plantation’s working sugar-cane fields, then climbed the hill to see the vats and rugged machinery used in the distillery process. At one building, we stuck our heads into the dark interior, where hundreds of casks of aging rum were stored. In the tropical heat, up to 10 percent of their contents will evaporate through the wooden barrels in a year. After only a few breaths, we made note of having a good buzz going as we stepped back into the sunshine.

Atop the hill sat the plantation house and its outbuildings. A plaque pointed to the rooms where U.S. President George Bush and French President Francois Mitterrand met in 1991 at the end of the Gulf War to discuss the future of Kuwait. Inside the main house, fine antiques filled each room. A refreshing breeze blew through the open windows, and wooden shutters kept the rooms shaded and cool in the hot tropical sun. Afterward, sitting in a finely crafted gazebo and enjoying the breeze that funneled up the valleys from the sea,

I couldn’t help but think that while this would have been a spectacular home for the plantation’s founder, Charles Clément, it was a very different existence for workers who harvested and milled the sugar.

The Clément distillery closed its doors at this location in 1988, when operations were moved to a new facility a short distance away. Restoration of Habitation Clément began in 2005 and is ongoing.

Modern Martinique

After a trip to the tasting room, we left Habitation Clément, toting bags filled with bottles of their finest, and boarded our van for Fort-de-France, a bustling port city on the west coast and Martinique’s capital. The winding mountain road soon turned into a modern four-lane highway flanked by office buildings, houses and shopping centers. Our driver took us to the downtown marketplace, a sprawling indoor collection of stalls, where vendors hawked fruits, vegetables, tangy Caribbean spices and colorful calico shirts and dresses.

For lunch, we climbed to the second floor of the market and chose Mamma’s Shack, one of several restaurants where the maitre d’s jostled aggressively for customers. The menu was strictly local. I ordered goat, cassava beans and rice, and we all shared a helping of cod cakes doused with hot sauce.

Afterward, we did a drive-by of Fort Louis and the waterfront. We looked across broad Fort-de-France Bay to the anchorage where we’d spend the night. By boat, it might have been a quick trip, but a good chunk of the afternoon was spent on the highway as we skirted the shore. Our journey ended in Trois-Îlets, a lively little tourist town of beaches and shops, where Cosy and Brad were waiting for us with the tender.

Double D was anchored just around the corner, at Anse Mitan. It was tempting to swim to shore to investigate the beachfront resort, but instead, we all jumped in and paddled about the boat. Cosy fired up the massive speaker he kept stashed below the saloon table, and so with reggae tunes blaring, we floated on foam tubes and enjoyed a cold beer or two.

Monday night was a beauty. We sat up on the flybridge, enjoying the night sky and the view of lights on the hills overlooking the city.

So far, this had been a fine vacation, but Marianne and I were on the clock, so to speak; I had a story to write, and she needed photos. So, bright and early Tuesday morning, the crew hauled anchor and motored a short way to Anse Dufour, a perfect little horseshoe-shaped cove with a white-sand beach at its center and three colorful little cottages just behind it. The hills rose steeply up from the beach, and gusty winds poured down them. There were fishing skiffs hauled up on the sand, and a handful of folks swam near shore.

When the sun was right, Cosy used a spare halyard to haul Marianne and her cameras up the mast to the first spreaders. Kathy and Tom enjoyed the morning on the foredeck, while I paddleboarded around the cove and Nick and Josie went exploring by kayak. Before long, day boats carrying snorkelers from the nearby resorts arrived and the anchorage became downright crowded. Between swimmers and katabatic gusts, paddling became a lot like work, so we traded board and kayak for masks and snorkels and joined the crowds in the water.

Tuesday afternoon we again set sail, this time heading farther north up the coast to St. Pierre, the northern Martinique town that was wiped out when volcanic Mount Pelee blew its top in 1902, killing nearly 30,000 people and leaving just two survivors. Thirty-plus knots of wind sent us scurrying along on a comfortable reach at 9 knots and better.

When we arrived, Pelee’s summit was covered by clouds, as it almost always is. The hillsides were rich and green-looking, thanks to all the rain that falls there. Ashore, we wandered the streets of the once-again bustling town, where evidence of the deadly eruption can still be seen on the blackened walls of many of the buildings.

Cruising boats — including many a steel vessel flying a French flag — filled the harbor. We swam off Double D‘s stern and savored the sunset on this, our last night out.

After another fine dinner from Vicky, Cosy treated us to a tasting from his collection of infused rums. Into the bottles of white rum, he’d added ingredients like passion fruit, vanilla, coffee, cinnamon, guava, coconut and island spices (my favorite). He then let them ferment for three weeks or more. I can say two things definitively: They were delicious, and we all slept soundly when our heads hit the pillows.

Another Round, Please We had one more adventure in store before our sail home. On Wednesday morning, Double D motored a short way south to anchor off the beach at Le Carbet, a small community of bars, restaurants and shops. Cosy ferried us to a pier at the north end of the beach, where an old couple stood fishing. In no time, they filled their bucket with small, silvery fish.

The six of us left the dock and walked a mile or so on the main street, following it inland until we found a sign for the Distillerie Neisson. A dirt road led us past groves of trees to a hillside sugar plantation and the distillery, which has been in operation since 1931. Unlike Habitation Clément, this was a strictly commercial concern. Red buildings were arranged around a courtyard and filled with vats, bottling machines and warehouse space. Production takes place only a few months out of the year, and the machinery was idle when we arrived. Even so, at midmorning, the gift shop was filled with people waiting to sample the wares.

When it was our turn, a lively chap and third-generation member of the family spoke broken English and used a poster on the wall to explain the rum-making process, and then stepped briskly behind a counter teeming with bottles and asked if we’d care to try some.

We did.

“You could run your car on this, mate,” noted Nick after sampling one of the more high-octane concoctions. Almost without us noticing, the rum worked its magic, as Tom, who walked into a sign on his way out, could attest.

Fortified for the long 40-mile day ahead of us, we trudged back to Double D, where, after a swim, we got quickly underway. The rhumb line to Rodney Bay took us farther and farther offshore and out of the lee of the island. Soon, we were surrounded by whitecaps, but Cosy, like Double D, took the conditions in stride. They’d seen them before. For the rest of us, it was a heck of a ride, and one I won’t soon forget.

We approached St. Lucia toward sunset — always a lovely time to be at sea — and stars filled the sky by the time the hook was finally set. There was a collective sigh as we sipped cocktails and sat down to one last meal from Vicky, glad to have the crossing over with, even if none of us had lifted a finger to make it happen. As I said at the beginning, welcome to the pleasures of a crewed charter.

Like most sailors, I’ve always found the rewards of a sailing vacation to be in the sailing itself, so spending every day aboard Double D in guest mode took some getting used to. But would I put to sea again with captain and crew? Hell, yes.

Mark Pillsbury is editor of Cruising World.

The post Rum Running in Martinique appeared first on Cruising World.

Korina, our 48-foot Moorings charter catamaran, had been moored for the better part of a day behind Horseshoe Reef, in the Tobago Cays, last February when shipmate and photographer Cate Brown and I clambered into the dinghy for a brief morning photo safari around the choppy anchorage. As soon as I put the outboard in gear and began to motor ahead, I was splashed with spray and thought to myself, “Can’t that wind just stop blowing for a minute?”

Then I remembered: I’d pondered the very same question 10 years earlier, when other friends and I had anchored a charter boat in nearly the same spot, next to Baradel Island and its sea turtle sanctuary. On that trip, the cays were my favorite part. I’d never before seen anything that matched the shimmering blue water, sun-bleached beaches, or the way the Milky Way filled the night sky. But it was the wind that really got me: the glorious trades that blew incessantly, singing in the rigging and drowning out the roar of the Atlantic swells crashing on the 2.5 miles of coral reef that protect the five islands of the Tobago Cays Marine Park, the crown jewel of the Grenadines.

On that first trip, my mates and I had bounced around between Bequia to the north and Union Island to the south, starting from and returning to a now-closed charter base in Canouan. It had been a grand adventure, to be sure, but this past winter’s was even better, because instead of short passages between stopovers, we got to sail long stretches between the islands as we made a 120-nautical-mile downwind dash from The Moorings’ base on St. Lucia south to Grenada, where we left the boat for someone else to sail the long beat back.

How very civilized.

There were four of us sharing this little adventure. Cate and I, both from ice-encrusted New England, were joined at the international airport in Vieux Fort by The Moorings’ general manager, Josie Tucci, and my Annapolis sailing pal Dave Robinson. Though we’d all arrived right on time, any chance for an afternoon departure that day was dashed by traffic on the way to The Moorings’ base in Rodney Bay and last-minute repairs to Korina.

Instead of fretting, we chilled. We took advantage of the boat’s downtime to enjoy a much-appreciated rum punch by the pool, stow provisions, and get our briefing out of the way. Shuffling between charts and cruising guide, base manager Lene Voney explained the finer points of dealing with customs in St. Lucia; clearing into the Grenadines at Bequia and out at Union Island; and then clearing in again in Carriacou at Tyrrel Bay, the first port of entry we’d reach in the island nation of Grenada. To accomplish all that, Lene advised a trip to the ATM, which was stocked with Eastern Caribbean dollars. We should depart with no less than 1,110 XCD ($400 USD) in cash, she said, and with at least 16 copies of our crew list, all of which would eventually be handed over to various agents along the way.

We had eight days to reach St. George’s, on Grenada’s south coast. It seemed like plenty of time to get a taste of what the Windward Islands hold for sailors, but we’d still need to be on the move daily if we wanted to get Korina there on time.

Let the Fun Begin

Though we planned a breakfast departure for the next day’s sail to the iconic Pitons, the twin rock spires that tower over St. Lucia’s southwestern coast, it was closer to beer-and-sandwich time when we finally coiled our dock lines. Outside, we found plenty of breeze and tucked one reef in the main before taking full advantage of the boat’s electric winch to set sail. Underway at last, we bore away, rolled out the jib, and tailed its starboard sheet home. With the wind just aft of the beam, Korina sprang to life at 7 knots, and we were off. We didn’t know it then, but that reef would remain in the main for the duration of our trip, and the port jib sheet would stay coiled and in the line bag for all but two short intervals: when we needed to jibe away from shore to find better wind, and on one brief occasion on the last day when we found ourselves beating back to the base with the wind at 40 degrees apparent. Like I said, the sailing really was quite civilized.

By midafternoon, our maiden voyage was complete, and it was time to round up and drop the sails. What luck — there was one last open mooring to grab, and it was smack-dab between the Pitons. As we motored up to it, we encountered our first boatboy. These watermen are a fact of life throughout the Windward Islands, and many can be quite helpful, providing visitors with provisions and local knowledge on anchoring and sights ashore. If you politely decline their services, most will leave you alone, though some can be pushy, and a few downright irritating.

In this case, without asking, a fellow called “Safe Speed” swept in with his dinghy and handed up the loop on the mooring’s pendant line, through which we needed to pass dock lines to secure to cleats on each hull. His work done, he then pulled up astern and said the charge for the night in the marine park would be $50.

RELATED: The Lovely Leeward Islands: Something for Everyone

We’d been advised to avoid scams by always asking for a receipt for services and inquiring ahead of time if fees were in U.S. dollars or Eastern Caribbean currency (with an exchange rate of about 2.7 XCD per $1). Safe Speed assured us a colleague would be along with the requested receipt and waited patiently to be paid. Civil bartering ensued, and in the end, he settled for 20 XCD and a cold Coke for his assistance with the mooring. Later, a park ranger collected the 54 XCD mooring fee. I mention the transaction because it was repeated in some variation in nearly every harbor.

Our bills settled, I wasted no time in donning mask, snorkel and fins and paid a visit to the local sea creatures. Then, with an hour of daylight left, we launched the dinghy and went ashore to the well-maintained Sugar Beach Resort for sundowners. Later aboard Korina, we feasted on grilled fish and ­vegetables. And as the moon rose over the ridge between the peaks, we toasted a first day well spent. We were now right back on schedule.

Taste of the Trades

In the morning, we were off at 0600. Still in the lee of St. Lucia, we motorsailed until the first of the trade winds filled the main. In no time, we were in open water and steering for a waypoint roughly 10 degrees east of the tip of St. Vincent to allow for westerly set. The breeze was steady at first, in the high teens, but then conditions became more boisterous, with gusts nearing 30 as we neared the top of St. Vincent. As we closed on land, the waves built and steepened, and Korina turned from comfy cat to sporty surfer. With a rush, she’d surge forward, the speedo climbing from the mid-8s to 9 knots, then to 10, and once or twice to nearly 14 knots as one swell passed and the next lifted the stern anew. Heavens, it was fun.

Ashore, St. Vincent’s Soufriere volcano was covered in clouds, and the hills were a lush rainforest green. As we reached along, we encountered a steady stream of charterers motorsailing northward close to shore, headed for home. Poof: The whole one-way concept became crystal clear.

Eager to get to Bequia and have the afternoon to visit bustling Port Elizabeth, we motored briefly to find clear breeze. Then, as we swept past St. Vincent’s southern tip and Blue Lagoon, we hardened sheets and made the crossing to Admiralty Bay on one tack. Had we had days to laze about, I think I’d have enjoyed spending a few exploring Bequia, where locals still hunt for whales and yachtsmen congregate to relax and re-provision. Ashore, the streets were abuzz with vendors hawking their artwork and clothing, and numerous cafes promised fine dining. But to be honest, I hadn’t come to shop, and we had more than enough food aboard. This early into the trip, I was much more intrigued by the idea of coral reefs, lonely anchorages and windblown beaches — all of which we found the very next day, when we pushed on toward the heart of the Grenadines.

Cays, Palms and Rum

The next morning, after another visit to town, we rode 20-knot trade winds toward Canouan, just visible in the mist. Beyond, the remainder of the Grenadines blended into a patchwork of dark shapes that only slowly began to distinguish themselves as we covered the next 20 or so nautical miles to our destination: Salt Whistle Bay and its half-moon-shaped, palm-lined beach at the northern end of Mayreau, the gateway to the Tobago Cays. Entering the bay under power, we heeded the reefs to either side. We were greeted by “Black Boy,” owner of the brightly colored beach bar of the same name, who pointed out a spot to anchor. At his establishment ashore, we tested his claim of having the best rum punch in the Caribbean, and I regrettably agreed to try a sip of one of his colleagues’ Sunset Very Strong Rum. The name speaks for itself.

Said rum took its toll on Black Boy’s team, and unfortunately none of them were available later that afternoon, when it turned out our choice anchoring location was too close to another boatboy’s mooring — one that was now in demand by a newly arrived sailboat. In the end, we moved, but by the time we did, the bay was crowded enough that the only spot we could find was uncomfortably close to a reef to port and a boat full of Frenchmen to starboard. To this day, I have no idea what the animated skipper said, but judging from his gestures, I’m fairly sure he wasn’t pleased to have us so near.

Turns out reefs and French yachts were the least of our worries. What came to haunt us in Salt Whistle Bay were the bats.

Let me explain.

Dave and I stayed on deck well into the night to make certain all remained fine between us and the neighbors. Finally convinced we wouldn’t collide, I headed to my cabin below and Dave dozed off in the cockpit. Just after dawn, I awoke from what had seemed like a restless sleep and realized something was askew. Sitting up, I spotted dark stains everywhere, and at first thought it might be ashes that had blown in from a campfire ashore.

Then I headed up to the saloon, where I found a round-eyed Dave. He kept repeating, “The bats … the bats.”

We theorized that the little devils must have smelled the bananas and other fruit we had stashed in the galley, and during the night they decided to invite themselves to dinner. Being a considerate crewmate, rather than scream and awaken the rest of us (as I would have), Dave tried to shoo them out with a towel and blanket. But as soon as he’d get them out the aft door, they’d circle around and come back in the forward door that Robertson and Caine builds into the Moorings 4800 for access to the foredeck. Finally, impending daylight did what Dave could not, and the bats fled, only to be replaced by a flock of birds hellbent on devouring the fruit seeds that were left behind.

And so this day in paradise began as though in a Hitchcock film as we scrubbed guano off every bulkhead, counter, and inch of cabin sole.

Our reward, however, lay just around the corner. By midmorning we were tied to a mooring and swimming with the sea turtles of the Tobago Cays. We spent the afternoon snorkeling on the reef and then had a feast of lobsters barbecued on the beach by Capt. Asbert Ashton as the sun set. It was truly a hell-to-heaven experience.

Union Island was our next stop. The first order of business was to pay a visit to the customs office in Clifton to clear out, and then we headed around the southern tip of the island to Chatham Bay, which I’d nominate as one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. On either side, steep, wooded hills tumble to the water, and a long and perfect white sand beach sits dead in the middle. Josie and Dave had a siesta, and Cate and I went snorkeling. It was a hoot watching pelicans dive-bomb the schools of fish teeming along the shore, and I loved seeing the blue-footed boobies taking it all in from their rock-top perches. Just before sunset, we went ashore and visited Sunbeach and Eat, the most prosperous-looking of the handful of beach bars, run by Seckie and Venessa.

Seckie recommended a morning hike up the rutted dirt road behind his establishment. Before the day became hot, we followed his advice and climbed steadily for a half-mile or so before we reached the ridge above. What a view westward, out across the open Caribbean. Standing in a grassy clearing and taking it all in, we were startled by the approach of a grizzled fellow clad in a red polo shirt, shorts and knee-high boots. He led a monster of a goat on a rope and slapped a long, menacing machete against his calf as he walked. But it turns out Bushman was all smiles and friendly banter once we’d said hello. And had we not met him, we’d have missed the walk along the heights to the other side, where the view of the Grenadines to the north and Grenada to the south is beyond spectacular.

Our march southward next brought us to Carriacou and Tyrrel Bay. After the transient anchorages of the Grenadines, this port was clearly a place many a cruiser called home. It had a laid-back feel to it despite a busy shipyard and marina and a long row of shops that lined the road along the beach. After clearing in, we walked nearly the length of the town and back again. I quickly discovered that if you paid any attention at all to any of the local hounds, you found a friend that would follow after you and gladly lie at your feet in the shade of a rum shop’s table, in the hopes a scrap of something might fall to the floor. It was a colorful ­harbor and one I’ll visit again should I get the chance.

But now our time was running short. We had 14 miles of open ocean to cross to fetch the north shore of Grenada, and then two or three more hours of sailing to reach St. George’s. Along the way, we stopped to go snorkeling at the Molinere Underwater Sculpture Park, the handiwork of British artist Jason deCaires Taylor. With directions from a local boatboy, we were able to locate many of the sunken figures. Some were standing in rings to signify life, while others lay flat to imitate death. We spotted a praying Jesus, a fertility god and several other objects that had been carefully placed in sandy areas maybe 15 to 20 feet deep.

Though we had Korina for another couple of days, Josie had to jump ship early, so we spent our first night in Grenada in a slip at The Moorings’ base at the modern Port Louis Marina. By dinghy, we visited downtown St. George’s and stopped for dinner at BB’s Crabback Caribbean Restaurant. If you get to visit, the jerk chicken and curried goat are tremendous, but don’t miss the crabback — meat that’s plucked from land crabs and cooked with herbs, wine and cheese before it’s stuffed back into the shells.

I’d like to say we were up with the sun to send Josie on her way, but that would not be entirely true. Her flight was zero-dark-thirty early. The rest of us got a slow start. I made a run by dinghy to the nearby market to grab enough food and drink for one more day’s worth of adventures, and then Dave, Cate and I headed back out, sailing past Grand Anse to explore the coves along Grenada’s south shore. Our destination was Mount Hartman Bay. Despite dire warnings about the approach, we found the winding entrance through the bay’s offshore reef both easily visible and well buoyed. Inside, there was plenty of room to anchor in the dead-calm lagoon. We swam, went exploring in the tender, and that night caught up with old friends of mine from Maine, who’d spent the winter going nowhere fast in the southern Caribbean. They came to Korina for dinner. Afterward, we loaded our remaining supplies into their dinghy. Their plans were to keep sailing; ours were to head home. Even the best sailing vacation — and this had been an exceptionally fine one — must come to an end. My only lingering question as we headed for the airport: Where to next?

Mark Pillsbury is Cruising World’s editor.

The post One-Way Ticket to Paradise appeared first on Cruising World.

Tropical rainforests, barrier reefs, secluded anchorages: In the Windward Islands, you’ll get a taste of all that the Caribbean has to offer, and plenty of fine trade-wind sailing to boot.

For charter sailors, there are multiple choices to begin and end your adventures, and from any of them, you can choose to make your sailing vacation as laid-back or as challenging as you’d like.

The Windwards stretch north to south across roughly 120 nautical miles of the open Atlantic, from Martinique, at 14.64 degrees N, to Grenada, at 12.12 degrees N. In addition to those two bookends, the other big islands in the group include St. Lucia and St. Vincent, the capital of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. The Grenadines include bustling Bequia and Union Island, as well as several smaller, more remote islands and the otherworldly Tobago Cays.

Typically, Windward Island charter vacations begin from bases on Martinique, St. Lucia, St. Vincent or Grenada. Those wishing to relax, or fledgling skippers who want to ease into the Caribbean charter experience, can stay close to home and harbor-hop along the leeward western shore of any of the bigger islands. The more adventurous can head out and sail either north or south as far as time permits, or even opt for a one-way charter, say from St. Lucia to Grenada. The Windwards are comprised of four island nations, so you’ll need to remember to clear in and out of each along the way.

Martinique

Unlike the rest of the Windwards, Martinique has a distinctive French flair to it. The island is well developed and offers many shoreside amenities. Possible itineraries include exploring the island’s west coast or a sail south to St. Lucia.

St. Lucia

Rodney Bay, with a full-scale marina and nearby stores, is the hub for chartering on and around St. Lucia. The island offers several good anchorages, as well as a busy cruise-ship port in Castries and international air service. Typical itineraries include a sail north to Martinique or south to the Grenadines; an overnight stop at the iconic rock spires called the Pitons, on the island’s southern tip, is a must.

St. Vincent and the Grenadines

Charterers starting from St. Vincent will surely make a beeline to Bequia’s Admiralty Bay, and from there to the heart of the Grenadines: Union Island, with busy Clifton Harbour and lovely Chatham Bay; laid-back Canouan and Mayreau; and the national marine park at Tobago Cays, where visitors can pick up a mooring or anchor behind Horseshoe Reef to snorkel miles of coral and visit the park’s turtle sanctuary.

Grenada

The south coast of Grenada is scored with deep indentations, each of which makes for a spectacular anchorage. A week’s charter could easily be spent exploring these gems, or you can sail north, visiting the west coast to Carriacou, and from there continue to the southern Grenadines.

What to know if you go

Climate: Tropical temperatures are found throughout the Windwards. Temperatures in summer (the rainier season) vary from 75 degrees to 95 degrees F; winter (December to May) temperatures range from 65 degrees to 85 degrees F.

Winds: Easterly trade winds prevail across the islands. Winter winds tend to be more northerly; summer trades have a southerly component. Wind speeds vary from 10 to 25 knots, though more boisterous conditions can be expected during winter months and around the northern ends of the larger islands.

Sailing level: Skippers should be adept at reefing and comfortable with anchoring. In high season, the limited moorings get taken quickly, and many harbors lack moorings altogether. Passages between islands can range up to 30 miles and cross open ocean, so bluewater conditions can be expected.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

The post Windward Islands: Something for Everyone appeared first on Cruising World.

There are bustling cafes for strong coffee and flaky croissants, where the background conversation has a decidedly French accent. Or perhaps you’d prefer miles of pristine white sand beaches, many of which you have all to yourself. Then again, if what you’re after is champagne sailing across turquoise seas flecked with whitecaps, well, that’s most certainly an option. That’s one of the best things about a charter cruise of the northernmost Leeward Islands: Whatever you desire, you’ll find it!

Dutch? French? Charters generally originate on the truly international (and somewhat schizophrenic) island of St. Maarten, half of which is French, the other Dutch. You can spend the ­morning enjoying cafe society on the northern, French side in Marigot, and the afternoon strolling down the beachside walkway fronting the many bars and restaurants on the southern, Dutch side in Philipsburg. Or, of course, you could take in both scenes from the comfort of your cockpit, as each city is located adjacent to a protected anchorage, the former by Marigot Bay and the latter off Great Bay.

In recent years, St. Maarten has gone through a boom period (which accounts for the many cruise ships in Great Bay and the row of superyachts docked in the Simpson Bay Lagoon). However, there are also enough anchorages and marinas that you could spend a delightful week circum­navigating the island and enjoy a different destination every night. But then you’d miss the isle’s alluring neighbors.

Laid-Back Anguilla

Across Anguilla Channel from St. Maarten lies the low, friendly island of Anguilla. On a windy day, you can cover the roughly 12 nautical miles from Marigot to Road Bay, Anguilla’s most popular anchorage, in just a couple of boisterous hours. But while the relative distance is short, in some aspects you’re a world away.

RELATED: The Wild Side of Saint-Martin

Anguilla may be what St. Maarten was like before it became, well, St. Maarten. The vibe is mellow, the high-rise hotels nonexistent. What Anguilla lacks in glitz is more than made up for by the place’s astounding natural beauty: Surrounded by coral reefs and graced with numerous gorgeous beaches, it’s the very embodiment of what has attracted sailors to the Caribbean for centuries.

Chic St. Barts

Last but definitely not least in this trio of Caribbean treasures is glittering, iconic, breathtaking St. Barthélemy, better known to one and all as St. Barts. Strategically situated smack-dab in the middle of the Lesser Antilles chain, it’s been grappled over by would-be European colonialists and pirates of all stripes for hundreds of years. That said, a quick stroll through the streets of Gustavia, the ­stupendous deepwater port that also ­services the main anchorage, makes one thing very clear: The French were the last ones standing.

RELATED: The Wild Side of Saint-Martin

St. Barts is synonymous with the best of everything: the tastiest restaurants, ­grandest villas, sleekest yachts and, of course, the most beautiful people. It’s a scene everyone should experience once. And the best thing about arriving on a charter boat is that, once you’ve had your fill, you can simply sail away.

What to know if you go:

Climate: Tropical. There will be plenty of sunshine and high temperatures, as well as occasional squalls that can bring heavy showers. Be prepared for both.

Winds: Trade-wind sailing means easterly breeze generally ranging from 10 to 25 knots. In winter the winds are usually northeast and heavier; in summertime, expect calmer conditions trending southeast.

Sailing level: Line-of-sight navigation is simple and straightforward for experienced sailors of all levels, but above-average boathandling skills may be necessary for open-ocean passages between the islands on the more blustery days.

Herb McCormick is CW’s executive editor.

The post Leeward Islands Bliss: St. Maarten, Anguilla and St. Barts appeared first on Cruising World.

Despite best intentions, some sailing trips are slow getting started, and this little sprint through the Caribbean Windward Islands would fall squarely into that category.

Our plane arrived a half hour early in St. Lucia and for a brief few minutes our crew of pale white North Americans though we might just get to the Moorings base in Rodney Bay in time to check in, brief up and sneak out that very same afternoon.

But the cruise ships were in.

Traffic in Casteries, the island’s capital and main port made snails look downright perky, and by the time we’d stowed our bags, sorted through provisions and stocked the liquor locker, the tree frogs were singing. But we were warm and happy. No worries, we’d leave at first light. That didn’t actually happen either. I stood amazed just before noon on day two as I attempted to get our final piece of paper stamped and the last bill paid at customs. The friendly fellow at the final desk groaned when he ran out of paper in the credit card processing machine and a spare roll proved difficult quite difficult to find.

The reward for patience was a scorching beam reach south along St. Lucia’s mountainous west coast aboard our Moorings 4800 Korina. The ride melted any trace of winter from this sun-starved sailor, and when we arrived at the Pitons, there were still moorings to be had between the soaring peaks. What a spot and what a moon rise over the ridge.

This morning, we slipped our mooring lines at the crack of down and we were off. With 20 to 25 knots blowing over the port beam, we surfed our way 30 or so miles to the towering north coast of St. Vincent. Clouds hung over the peak as we rolled past, and gulls chasing flying fish put on a show to remember. Bound for Bequia, we soon left St. Vincent astern and sailed close-hauled the remainder of the way to Admiralty Bay. Though we were ready for it, the famed Bequia Blast didn’t as we rounded up to drop our sails. This was, indeed, a sail that was well worth the wait. Can’t wait to see what awaits us ashore.

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