01/12/25 - 01/13/25

 01/12/25

7:03 am

    Our first night on the boat was a hot one, waking up after only sleeping about 2 hours in a sweaty fever. The boat has AC but it could only be run when we have shore power. The drippings of the AC are pumped out of the bilge while we are docked and creates a very noisy water feature that spilled from the side of the boat. Because of this our neighbors had complained before we turned in for the night so we had to shut it off. Hopefully while we’re at sea we get more airflow.

    The morning is beautiful despite the lack of sleep. I’m lying in the hammock B strung up between the masts, holding onto a hot cup of coffee. My radio app still worked here so I've been listening to WQXR. I entered in the middle of a Mozart Adagio. I spied a luxurious looking sailboat further out in the marina and watched as a man prepared his sails for departure while his young child laid atop the boom.

9:41 am

    We all gathered at the console table on the bridge for breakfast. H, as our designated galley boy for the trip, had crafted a perfect bowl of yogurt with fresh pineapple and a bit more coffee. The pineapple was the best I ever had, sweet and without the usual tingling on my tongue. The Germans in the boat next to us wished us a good morning. “Good morning Americans”.

    We met with our dispatcher and L went over our plans to visit the surrounding islands and discussed what can work and what doesn’t. We had wanted to go to Montserrat; I read that there were black sand beaches and I had an interest in getting closer to the volcano, but the guide advised against it as it was a lee shore. Instead we got customs clearance to visit Guadeloupe, a French island about 70 miles away. We planned to sail to another bay in Antigua for the night then set sail for Guadeloupe in the early morning.

    We left port around 11 am.

    Unease and motion sickness set in almost immediately. I couldn't even go below deck without wanting to vomit. H brought me a tab of Dramamine and served our lunch for the afternoon: PB & J’s and lunch meat sandwiches. As long as I didn't lay down and didn't close my eyes I started to feel better.

2:53 pm

    4 knots, that’s 4 miles per hour. That’s how fast we have been going for the last 3 hours.

    When we sailed far enough away from land L pointed to our goal; the furthest tip of Antigua that we could see just barely jutting out. From my point of view, we were not even halfway there. I had a greater appreciation for the sea voyages of the past. The day felt long, I began to think that sailing was quite boring.

L mentioned that even if it’s only 4 knots, it’s 4 knots indefinitely. Meaning we could just keep going like this, forever. I found that somewhat reassuring.

    Bored but in a pleasant way, I was no longer seasick. Lying on the bow under the jib sheet taking in the sun, I tuned into the radio in the middle of a live broadcast from Carnegie Hall. In the crystal clear recording, the pianist paused mid-song to allow the audience to cough to their heart’s content, followed by laughter, and then the continuation of an awe-inspiring performance of Liszt’s transcription of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony. After the finale the announcers came on to describe the performance as “gripping”, the audience was “on the edge of their seats”. Igor Levit, the pianist, then returned to play an encore in honor of those affected by the fires in LA. The announcers describe the fires as an “astonishing apocalyptic event”.

5:50 pm

    We finally reached the tip of land. Passing around an island with large caverns and intense waves splashing within them. The sun had begun setting, dipping below the land we left behind and casting before us an ombre sky of different shades of purple. An almost full moon was shining above us as we pulled into a bay occupied by an extremely gaudy superyacht and two catamarans. I changed my music to a 2000’s indie scene playlist. For the first time in years I listened to Florence + The Machines Dog Days Are Over and Fleet Foxes White Winter Hymnal.

    Slowly maneuvering past the yacht someone called out to us from the tip of the bow. “Hello my neighbors!”. I gave them a wave. As we Tried to anchor close to the beach, someone aboard one of the catamarans watched us intently. L called out to them asking if they’d prefer we anchored to the other side of them. To my surprise he gave the affirmative in a strong southern accent.

7:23 pm

    Calm winds lightly rocked the boat. The water was clear here, I could see the bottom. H prepared dinner, fresh snapper bought at a fish market back in English Harbor. We opened all the port holes before going to sleep.

01/13/25

    Woke up to a beautiful sunrise. I slept so peacefully.

9:08 am

We sat down for my ideal breakfast: oatmeal with granola, bananas, and peanut butter with fresh coconut water straight out of the coconut and a cup of coffee. We all stood in excitement as two sea turtles popped up out of the water near the side of our boat. They’re so much bigger than I expected.

    H and I got suited up and swam from the boat to the beach. I was shocked by the saltiness of the water. I could feel it coating my skin. I wondered how much salt I'd accidentally ingest.

    The sand of the beach was soft. We were the only ones on it. I began collecting shells and picking up objects I spotted in the water with my toes. Our other crew members went snorkeling out towards the edge of the bay.

    As I sat on the beach, I remembered that it was Monday. I had forgotten all about work. It was so beautiful here. I definitely had a sunburn.

    Around 11, a hoard of boats loaded to the brim with tourists drove right up to the beach and grounded themselves. I wondered about the sea turtles. H and I swam back to the boat for lunch. While we dried off we watched as the beach was overtaken. Our sea turtles turned up near the other side of our boat.

12:56 pm

    Post lunch of tuna fish sandwiches and Carib beer, we decided to make use of the dinghy and ride out to the island we rode past when we came in. From our anchoring, I could just barely make out a small patch of white sand on the side of the island that faced us. The area we were in is land owned by a private members club. The view of the club that we rode by was one of a completely empty resort. Beautiful private beaches with absolutely no one in sight.

    The little stretch of beach we come upon was more perfect than you could imagine. The sand was softer and squishier than any beach we’d been on and had a pinky tone from the bits of crushed coral that had been eroded and washed ashore for who knows how long. The water was an incredible blue. G and N snorkeled just off the shore and discover that the reef was constructed of conch shells the size of our heads and even bigger than that.

    For the size of the beach, not much bigger than, say, a basketball court, there were many perfect little specimens–tiny intact shells. I began filling the pocket of my lifejacket.

    I imagined myself marooned there, not a great island to be marooned on given that inland seemed to be completely constructed of extremely sharp rock, but the beach had been so idyllic that I could have sat there sifting through every inch of sand and collecting a mountain of tiny Miter and Cowrie forever.

    We had our fun and set off in the dinghy to the main bay that our yacht was parked on the opposite side of: Nonsuch Bay and The Mill Reef Club. We passed a huge sailboat parked far out in the bay. As we rode by it, I spotted a woman sitting at the helm reading a book, I waved to her. I imagined myself in her place.

    We docked the dinghy and went ashore to this posh little beach bar owned by the club where the courteous hostess sat us at a table off the deck of the dining area. We ordered a round of tropical drinks: three Piña Coladas, a rum punch, a margarita, and some other frou-frou drink. “Mario makes the best rum punches on the island”. “This is the only bar on the island”.

6:19 pm

    We’ve finally wound down. The sun was setting slowly. Our bay had filled with a few more boats for the night. The breeze brushed over me as I laid on the deck and looked up at the stars that were beginning to peek out above. Tonight the moon was nearly full, shining brightly as it came up just behind scattered clouds. The anchor lights atop the vessels around us swayed with the wind and sparkled in the night. I felt as though the stars had come down to my level.

    We sail for Guadeloupe at 3 am.

Playlist

Dog Days Are Over - Florence + The Machine

White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire

Australia - The Shins

Pyro - Kings of Leon