Week 34: St Lucia, St Vincent & Grenadines (155 nm)

After a week with the Marshall’s in Marigot Bay, we were ready to set off for our Caribbean Christmas adventure. We had one of our most action packed week’s yet on the boat and created a bucket load of memories that we will treasure for a long time.

Our (first) turn to host Christmas

A Marshall family Christmas aboard Serenity in the Caribbean had been agreed almost the moment we took ownership of the boat with a plan to cross the Atlantic. Laura and I were thrilled to be able to host all of my immediate family aboard at the same time, and they were excited to bring many of our regular Christmas rituals with them and juxtapose them against such a different environment. St Lucia was chosen as an easy island for them to fly into, and then we settled on St Vincent and the Grenadines as a suitably idyllic setting for Christmas itself, albeit it would take a bit of a sail to get down there. With these decisions made, we decided to leave the detailed planning till we were all in St Lucia and better able to talk through the options together.

Flash forward to the first week with my family on St Lucia (that Laura described in her previous post) and I was now keen to nail down our route. Normally my parents are completely against the concept of getting any form of Christmas or Birthday present early, but for the first time they relented and let me unwrap the Caribbean Cruising guide from Grandma – an invaluable resource that I eagerly devoured, and which gave us a choice between the islands of Bequia (pronounced “Bekway”) and Mustique for Christmas Day itself. Admiralty Bay on Bequia was a popular and protected anchorage near the attractive town of Port Elizabeth, whereas Britannia Bay on Mustique was a more remote spot with limited shoreside access due to the number of wealthy / famous folk who own properties there.

Since the guide book and internet were unable to convince us one way or the other, we sought out advice from some of the other cruisers in Marigot Bay. One of our neighbours was James, who was sailing a sleek-looking Swan 40 called Nemesis, which conformed to a very fancy black-only colour scheme including a low slung deck awning that reminded me of a Stealth Bomber. He had already given us some good advice when he noticed the repairs we were doing on Serenity’s bumper and revealed that he had been sailing this area for a couple of years. As such, when he declared Mustique to be a slice of paradise and his own choice for Christmas, we elected to follow his advice.

• 

• 

James also mentioned that although it was quite a long sail past St Vincent down to the Grenadines, his view of the bays on St Vincent was not positive due to the somewhat aggressive approach of locals when mooring and its reputation for robbery and theft. So we devised a plan that would allow us to skip St Vincent on the way down by spending a night on the south side of St Lucia and then sailing direct to Bequia (a long leg of over 50 miles). We could then make the short jump to Mustique on Christmas Eve, where we would stay until Boxing Day, and then plan our route back to St Lucia. The long leg was a bit of a concern seeing as both my Mum and Elliott are prone to seasickness, but they agreed on the logic that concentrating the sailing on fewer days would mean more days without any ill effects, which with hindsight was a brave approach but we were grateful for the sailing freedom it provided us.

We now had plan, Serenity was fully provisioned, and the presents were stowed in all manner of locations around the boat. So at the start of our second week together we slipped the lines and set off on our Christmas adventure.

Blue Planet in real life

Our first stop was Laborie Bay on St Lucia and we had to travel down the leeward side of the island (the one opposite the prevailing wind direction) to get there. The sharply undulating profile of the islands means the wind on this side tends to be quite unreliable, and as a result we had to motor most of the way down – normally a cause for much sadness in a family of sailors; however, within an hour of leaving Elliott spotted a pod of dolphins making its way towards us and all the motoring discontent evaporated in an instant. For the next hour we were joined by up to 15 dolphins including around four mother and calf pairs. The young dolphins didn’t yet have the adults grace when playing in the bow wave, which resulted in a couple of minor collisions and made the experience even more memorable. It was comfortably the best dolphin encounter to date for Laura and I, and proved to be a portent for the rest of the week, which at times felt like we were behind the scenes of an episode of Blue Planet (but without the waterproof cameras to get our own photos – watch this space):

• We sighted a number of turtles whilst sailing, and this then culminated in Mustique where we were surrounded by so many of them that we all got to experience snorkelling with them
• Mustique also provided us with eagle rays, moray eels and batfish (the latter resembling something like a fish with legs)
• A whale joined us for a few minutes on the way back up to St Lucia, although we weren’t able to determine what type

• 

• 

With all this excitement, the shorter sailing legs seemed to fly by. Our first night at Laborie Bay was pleasant, and the kids took an hour to explore the nearby fishing town and have a beer on the beach, whilst Dad practiced his paddle boarding (much to Mum’s amusement). The kids fishing on the dinghy dock seemed to be having great success and put my unsuccessful efforts thus far in the Caribbean to shame. We also discovered that sour oranges were too bitter to eat, and the limes we had bought were in fact lemons – but, the silver lining was that the sour orange went very well in a G&T!

The next morning was our big sail down to Bequia, and as such we got an early start to the day. The wind and waves were meaningful from the moment we left, and whilst Mum’s seasickness was limited to feeling a bit sleepy, Elliott quickly became quite green. In fairness, we had also caught a barracuda on the fishing lines (discussed more below), which is a pungent smelling fish and certainly did not help the situation. By the time we eventually arrived nine hours later in Bequia we were all feeling very sorry for him, but he quickly recovered once we made it into the anchorage. And after a few beers at a local beach bar that boasted a Shaggy impersonator, he was fully restored (although it was unclear which of these had the greatest medicinal impact).

Meanwhile, Laura and I had nipped over to the customs office to go through the check in formalities. The friendliness of the officer was a refreshing change compared to the typical sullen bureaucracy, and he shared his own family experiences with seasickness that included his brother who unfortunately was a full time member of the St Vincent coastguard. We then took some time to explore the quirky town, with its charming waterside path and market stalls, and enjoyed a relaxed dinner at Laura’s – no relation to our Laura but nearly as good a chef, although the signature “Boat Fuel” cocktails were a bit to close to reality to be enjoyable. One more quick shore stop the following morning secured us some coconuts for Liv’s upcoming rice salad along with our next set of limes, which despite the somewhat vague assurances from the shop owner, also turned out to be lemons – the search continued…

• 

• 

• 

Tropical Christmas

The short sail down to Mustique was pretty uneventful, and, spotting our friends on Nemesis on the way in, we quickly got settled on a nearby mooring ball. The authorities on Mustique restrict yacht access to a single bay to protect the marine life there (or the island’s residents?) and require you to pay for a mooring ball if one is available instead of anchoring. The latter requirement turned out to make a lot of sense as it clearly protected the sea grass in the bay, which in turn kept all the local turtles fed. It was just a shame that quite a few subsequent arrivals (who tended to be luxury motor yachts) ignored both this directive and the speed limit in the bay when zooming around on their overpowered dinghies, and the port officers didn’t seem to have the confidence to challenge them. I suspect a future drop in turtle numbers and therefore visitors would provide sufficient impetus to act, but currently there are at least three turtles for every boat in the bay and so no one is complaining.

Most of us took the opportunity to swim with the turtles straight away, although Mum refused due to a traumatic previous snorkelling experience that the rest of us weren’t convinced had taken place. Thankfully our teasing and the recounting of our experiences that evening at the infamous Basil’s Bar drove her to try the next day, and even if her verbal feedback was limited it being ‘not quite as bad as she remembered’ her smile suggested otherwise.

Basil’s Bar is renowned amongst Caribbean sailors given its setting and style that blends effortlessly blends laidback with luxury, and provides the only sanctioned mixing between visiting sailors and the celebrities in residence. We enjoyed a couple of cocktails on Christmas Eve, and our initial impressions of ‘delicious but pricey’ were modified to ‘delicous and fair value’ on discovering two of the group were distinctly wobbly on the way back to Serenity – beware the Basil Tiki Punch! They took a nap whilst Laura (our one this time) cooked up a monumental Barracuda & Mahi Mahi Thai Fish Curry, and then we spent the rest of the evening playing our new favourite board game Code Names.

Christmas morning arrived too early for most of us, as a nocturnal swell had disturbed all of our sleep. Fortunately a less rolly mooring ball had become available and so we shifted spots and all heaved a sigh of relief as Serenity quietened down. Dad and Elliott had volunteered to cook breakfast, and we were all stunned when they presented us with a full English given the limited cooking space on the boat. We followed with our next Marshall Christmas tradition of stockings and were all pleasantly surprised by the ingenuity shown in finding meaningful locally sourced gifts amongst some of the typical ‘tourist toot’. Mum and Dad were “overjoyed” with their first ever wifebeaters, Laura’s new beach bag has received daily use, and I demolished one of my bars of Galaxy before anyone was smart enough to ask for a piece. The least successful gift (at least initially) was probably a beach smock that Mum bought for Liv, as it appeared to be many many sizes too big…but Liv soon decided this was a feature not a bug and refused to take it off for the next two days.

• 

• 

• 

• 

The other notable success was that whilst five of us received a bottle of the local banana ketchup condiment (a staple in every single shop we visited), they were all different varieties. I don’t know if a roast turkey would have been a suitable pairing for a banana ketchup tasting flight, but thankfully I had been talked out of attempting this feat on a boat and instead we cooked BBQ jerk chicken with coconut rice salad, fried plantains and homemade guacamole. The rest of the day was spent atop our now numerous inflatables off the back of Serenity, and we delighted in the disapproving looks from the nearby luxury boats that were no doubt the result of Serenity’s evolution from sailboat into more of a mobile waterpark. Surreal is the only word that comes close to summing up the day, and Laura and I took the group’s decision to stay another night as the utmost approval of our first time hosting Christmas.

In fact, the decision to stay one more night was also swayed by stories from James and his family on Nemesis that centred around the annual Boxing Day party thrown at Basil’s, which previously had been attended by Mick Jagger (one of the regular visitors to Mustique). After all the planned activities of Christmas, we spent most of the next day quietly enjoying ourselves, but we then dressed up and headed into Basil’s around 9pm. The live band got everyone dancing despite the occasional monsoon shower, but initially there was no sign of any special guests…until around midnight when Sir Mick’s recognisable presence was spotted across the bar!

It was remarkable for the space and privacy he was afforded in the bar (no-one took photos and he was rarely approached by strangers), and presumably this is the reason why he is happy to keep coming back. In fact, he felt so comfortable that he quickly took to the dance floor with his 31 year old ballerina girlfriend, where he gave a more than impressive performance for his age. It will probably be the only time that any of us can claim to have danced with (near?) Mick Jagger, and once again we found ourselves with another unforgettable Christmas memory.

A growing fishing burden

Some readers may remember that when my sister and Elliott joined us in the Balearic Islands, Liv was desperate for us to catch a fish so that she could indulge her love of sushi (and therefore her preference was for us to catch a tuna). Unfortunately, we didn’t get a single bite the whole week they were with us and she left dejected, and convinced that she was bad voodoo for fishing on Serenity. Feeling like I had somehow failed (in a quite unusual way) as her big brother, I promised to do my utmost to change the story this time round, and as a result I was certainly feeling the pressure to deliver when we set out from St Lucia.

Perhaps hearing my plea, the local fishing gods rewarded us with a barracuda on the second day, and Liv was remarkably excited to get a first hand lesson in fish anatomy (in contrast to Elliott’s rapids ascent up the Jeans Nausea Scale…). It seemed that the pressure was off – Laura’s curry was the perfect dish for this meaty white fish that most of us hadn’t ever tried before, and I could start finishing my drinks rather than pour the final third overboard as a sacrifice to Neptune.

• 

• 

• 

Then Christmas Day came around, and I was the lucky recipient of a sushi making kit from Liv and a fishing rod from my parents!? Liv looked at me expectantly and my heart sank – we only had two days of sailing left! With this burden fully restored, I snuck up on deck during our final night in Mustique, emptied a whole bottle of gin overboard, and prayed that Dad and my efforts in wrestling the line on the new rod that day had not been in vain.

After Mustique, we set off towards Young Island on the south tip of St Vincent, which seemed to have a safe enough reputation and would set us up well for the return leg to St Lucia the next day. As hoped, the action of our lure was certainly much livelier on the rod but the hours passed without any apparent interest. But then, when we were about an hour away from Young Island, the rod suddenly bent and the reel started screaming – “FISH ON”.

Laura sprang into action and organised the team to receive the incoming fish, whilst I focussed on reeling it in. It put up a bit of a fight, but another benefit of the rod is that it is easier to tire the fish out and it wasn’t long before we started to make it out behind us in the water. I suspected it wasn’t Mahi Mahi, as these fish tend to make some spectacular jumps when first hooked and this fish had chosen to immediately dive. As it came in closer, it started looking more and more like a tuna and I dared to hope – we had caught a yellow fin! I think the excitement on my face was only exceeded by Liv’s and the cockpit was overrun by celebratory dancing :).

We got the fish aboard without much fuss and stuck it in the fridge until we could park up on Young Island, where I was able to demonstrate my recently acquired filleting skills and surprised even myself with the steaks that came off. Liv then took on the role head sushi chef (having been gifted a course by Laura and I a number of years earlier) and named herself “Master Udon” in between mouthfuls of scrap tuna. I was her student, and quickly dubbed “Wonky” given my somewhat rustic approaches to all things culinary. We then spent a hysterical afternoon making sushi rice and providing a platter of Tropical California rolls (star fruit and golden apple replacing the typical cucumber and avocado). There was even enough tuna left over for some grilled steaks and we enjoyed the most decadent meal I have ever seen on a boat – for a short moment at least, I was able to repay Liv’s faith in me!

• 

• 

The rest of the journey back was less eventful. We had a long sail up to St Lucia, where the most notable feature was Elliott’s mastery of his seasickness, but our night in Soufriere was probably our least enjoyable of the week. The pressure from aggressive local boats as you park was somewhat intimidating, and the town was in full Friday night party mode. Tourists were notably absent and the volume of the Reggaeton music was oppressive. As a result, we decided not to spend the next day there as per our original plan, and instead left early to return to Marigot Bay where we’d started.

Long goodbyes and what next

After such an eventful week on the boat, the final few hours passed without incident, and a more subdued atmosphere developed as the impeding goodbyes became more tangible. Despite being on the road for a year, Laura and I had still managed to see my family every two to three months whilst we’d been in Europe; however, the distances involved now meant we wouldn’t see them again for six months – my longest absence since I was 18 by a long way. Regular FaceTimes help, but I had avoided considering the distance we would have between us until now. These two weeks with them in the Caribbean had underscored how much fun we have together and how important we are to each other, such that the farewell hugs as they all got into the taxi were almost painful. As they drove away, I considered the time till our summer reunion for Liv and Elliott’s wedding, and finally facing up to this sacrifice was forced to hope that I wouldn’t regret the decision we were making.

In this somewhat morose atmosphere, we were pleased to learn that Nemesis had ended up back in Marigot too and, perhaps sensing our mood, invited us over for drinks on their boat. We spent an enjoyable evening swapping stories and getting to know James, Georgie and Imogen. The evening finished with me demonstrating how not to get into a dinghy and I was only saved from a complete dunking by a previously dormant gymnastic talent, although I’m not confident I could repeat it. They then waved us off the following morning, after swapping sailing books (Blown Away for Dove) and promising to stay in touch when our paths hopefully crossed again in Antigua.

Our destination was the nearby marina in Rodney Bay, as we had a mountain of laundry to get done and were low on water, fuel and provisions. We went through the usual manic marina day, and after enduring the most overwhelming refuelling experience (where my patience with the lack of queueing etiquette was tested to breaking point), we got ourselves anchored in the expanse of Rodney Bay. It was New Year’s Eve and we had heard the parties ashore would be epic; however, we decided that the previous week had been epic enough and chose to remain aboard Serenity. 

A hammock over the bow gave us an uninterrupted view over the bay and I’m not sure a better place to watch all the different firework displays could be found. Our conversation meandered over our high and lowlights of the last year until, around 1am, it finally turned towards 2019 and life after hurricane season…