From a deserted island to a big city
Four months in the Caribbean and nine weeks in the ABC Islands
It’s already been more than six months since the last newsletter. It’s not that nothing exciting has happened during that time—quite the opposite. As a result, I’ve had very little time to put all those experiences into words.
After an intense and eventful time in Dominica, we continued up the Leeward Islands of the Caribbean. With a changing crew, we enjoyed our time in Guadeloupe, Antigua, and Barbuda. The latter island is barely visible from a distance because it is very flat and consists entirely of sand on one side. After maneuvering our way through the reef—thanks to a good map and a lookout—we dropped anchor in four meters of water in the gorgeous turquoise sea. So we spent the next few days snorkeling, sunbathing, and unsuccessfully hunting for lobsters, which skillfully hid from us under various rocks and boulders. One day, we took a trip to the town of Carlington. This was shocking to us. It feels like 80% of the houses are still destroyed by Hurricane Irma, which ravaged the area in November 2017. In some places, you can see houses that were abandoned in a flash during the storm—clothes still hang in the closets, and children’s toys are scattered around the living room or front yard. Some of those who remained on the island told us that the locals fled the hurricane and never returned. Barbuda, which forms a single nation with Antigua, had received virtually no support for reconstruction. For us, it was a very bleak sight, and I realized once again just how fortunate we are in Europe. Together with Jan from Bern and Cyrille from Zurich, we then traveled via St. Barth to Sint Maarten (Dutch) or Saint Martin (French). Yes, exactly—the two countries share this small island of 121 square kilometers, with the French part being slightly larger. However, both islands were less spectacular for us and had little to offer by our standards. Sure, we could have spent our money at designer shops or blown it at one of the overpriced restaurants. But we were more interested in unspoiled nature. The only highlight on Sint Maarten was the famous airport, where you could stand behind the runway and let the sand blow into your eyes as the plane took off. It was pretty cool, though, to see and feel the sheer power an Airbus 743 has to exert during takeoff to get those tons of weight moving. I couldn’t pass up the chance to take a selfie with the Airbus in the background. I share lots of photos on Instagram, so feel free to check it out.
For us, however, the journey continued southward past the little-known islands of Sint Eustatius, St. Kitts, Navis, and Montserrat—islands that very few of you have probably ever heard of (we were in the same boat before). During the crossings, we fished diligently—or, in some cases, just let the bait soak in the water. Every now and then, we even caught our own bait, since we’d set out two lines. Then it was time to untangle the lines again for a while. But on a crossing like this, you have plenty of time for that sort of thing when the autopilot is doing its job properly. We were successful in the end, though, and managed to reel in a fish or two.
But one mahi-mahi just wouldn’t come on board. The low point came one morning when we had two mahi-mahi on the line in quick succession. With the first one, the line snapped; the second one escaped into the wild just two meters from the boat. The mood was a bit dampened for a few hours. On Montserrat—where the Beatles spent several years on a creative retreat, and where some of their songs were apparently written—a huge lobster crawled right into our sights. Cyrille had speared the lobster as it scuttled across the sand; these creatures usually hide skillfully behind and under rocks. The feast could begin.
On the less touristy islands, we enjoyed nature and did a lot of walking. However, we didn’t pass up the chance to hitchhike to our destination once in a while. In Dominica, we managed to get a ride six times in a single day. The people in Dominica were always very warm and welcoming to us.
In every country, both the boat and the crew must be cleared through customs. The same procedure is then repeated when clearing out. Depending on the country, you must first go to Customs and then to Immigration. In some cases, there’s also a health department. It would be too easy if all the offices had the same hours and were in the same place. The whole process can therefore take several hours, as it did for us when clearing out at Navis. At first, the office was closed even though it was supposed to be open, because apparently the lady on duty was supposed to be welcoming the prince. At first, we wondered which prince she could possibly be referring to….After half an hour, the lady strolled over at a leisurely pace, and we were able to get our passports stamped. Then we went to the next door to pick up the necessary paperwork. Well, I managed to get a smile out of the lady when I joked that she could go out to dinner with the prince. The friendliness of officials varies greatly depending on the country, the day of the week, the time of day, and probably even the phase of the moon. But so far, no one has invented work.
Once we had all the paperwork together, we went to the upcoming festivities, which apparently had been prepared for the prince. We looked pretty dumb when Prince Charles and Camilla actually showed up—and not just some run-of-the-mill prince. We even got to shake their hands and exchange a few words.
The three of us enjoyed nature to the fullest and did a lot of hiking. As far as I can remember, we didn’t miss a single volcano in that area. Wearing our sturdy footwear—aka flip-flops—we ran up and down the mountains. We were usually faster and more agile than all the other tourists wearing sturdy shoes. I only had one mishap, and that was in Dominica. We were walking through mud, slush, and underbrush toward a waterfall marked on our maps.me map. Silvana wanted to turn back shortly after the official trail ended, but she bravely persevered (I think she was cursing us that day). On the way back, we had to climb back up a relatively steep slope. At a large rock ledge, my hand slipped, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward. Fortunately, after two meters, my right leg got caught on a tree and I was held in place. Silvana, who was walking behind me, surely had the shock of her vacation. This was confirmed by her heart rate monitor, which recorded the highest reading of the entire two-week vacation. A bit confused and still in shock, I climbed back up the slope and kept running. However, I did have some neck pain for the next two weeks.
With Sophia and Patricia, who had already been on board in the Mediterranean, we set sail south from Martinique. Patricia brought along her boyfriend Bene for backup, but due to numerous delays by the intra-Caribbean airline Liat, he didn’t arrive until a day later. We traveled via St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and the Grenadines to Grenada. In the Tobago Cays—an archipelago off St. Vincent and the very epitome of the Caribbean (postcard-perfect sandy beaches and palm trees)—we relaxed and unwound. We unpacked the newly sponsored SUP (thank you so much for that) and paddled diligently against the wind and waves. We went snorkeling, marveled at fish and rays, sipped plenty of sundowners, and simply soaked up the atmosphere. Another definite highlight was the bonfire we lit on the beach (using wood I’d been carrying with me since Sardinia). The snake bread and the lobster we bought ourselves tasted fantastic!
Before the big crew change in Grenada, we got to admire the famous underwater sculptures by an English artist (check out the pictures) and visit a nutmeg farm. Together with Anja, we then set off for the first of the ABC Islands, “B” for Bonaire. Due to the current political situation, we decided not to visit the Los Roques archipelago, which belongs to Venezuela, and sailed a wider detour instead. During the nights of the three-day voyage, we even turned off our navigation lights and AIS (Automatic Identification System) because of the aforementioned issues. Otherwise, the crossing as a pair was very pleasant, as the wind was blowing nicely from astern (from behind). The waves, which were high at times, also pushed us in the right direction. And sure enough, we caught what has been our last fish to date—a mahi-mahi. It’s always a highlight to pull such a fish out of the water. We stayed on Bonaire for about two weeks and spent our time snorkeling (Bonaire is one of the world’s top diving spots), had our first experiences with kitesurfing, visited the overpriced national park, and finally got to know other cruising sailors. That was something I’d been missing up until then. Up to that point, whether in the Mediterranean or the Caribbean, we’d always been surrounded by weekly charterers who’d rented a boat for a week or two. They kept to themselves and didn’t want to be disturbed on their vacation. Starting in Grenada, there were no more charter boats in sight, and the number of boats had dropped dramatically anyway.
On Bonaire, we got involved in our first community service project—not that we’d been acting antisocially up until then. No, we joined a plastic-free organization and helped out with a beach cleanup. Within an hour, we’d filled quite a few plastic bags (OK, it’s a bit controversial to use plastic bags for a plastic cleanup, but it’s just the easiest option). It’s shocking how much plastic waste washes ashore. It was even more frustrating when we touched some plastic bottles and they crumbled into a hundred tiny pieces. Unfortunately, this shows just how long the trash has been lying there and how brittle the plastic has become. For us, it was our first experience with this kind of work and also a great way to connect with local people. And sure enough, we met Laura and Vessel, a Dutch couple (Bonaire is part of the Netherlands). They spent a wonderful evening with us on board, enjoying wine and tarte flambée, and the next day they let us borrow their scooter, and Vessel showed us an impressive underwater grotto.
Next, we headed to Curaçao. Because we were both fascinated and shocked by the plastic waste cleanup effort on Bonaire, we reached out to a charity organization on Curaçao as well. As it happened, we were picked up at 7:00 a.m. on our second day—by chance, by a German man. We got along very well with Giacomo and Sabine, who was running a sea turtle conservation project in the same building. We felt right at home and spent several hours and days with them. Sometimes we helped sort plastic bottle caps, which would later be melted down and recycled, and other times we just lay in the hammock and chatted. On Curaçao, we felt at ease and a few years younger. So it happened that we sometimes danced the night away until the early hours of the morning.
But we didn’t just sort through Pet lids—we also visited the capital, Willemstad, with its famous swing bridge, went snorkeling with giant turtles, and explored the national park. After four weeks—I never would have imagined before I left that I’d stay in one place that long, but before I knew it, the time had flown by—we headed on to the last of the ABC Islands: Aruba.
Aruba served only as a stopover for us to catch a suitable weather window to Colombia. Capo de la Vela in Colombia is one of the five most notorious capes in the world. On the one hand, it’s always very windy there; on the other hand, the waves pile up. Together with the SY Limelight, we set sail early in the morning and caught an ideal weather window. At times, we even had almost too little wind, but the waves were already reaching heights of up to three meters. After 253 nautical miles, we arrived in Colombia practically at the same time as the SY Limelight. We’ll be staying here for a while now and exploring the country with our backpacks.
If you’d like to follow my journey regularly, follow me on Instagram at @sailingyumyum.
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