Week 43: Anguilla to USVIs (121nm)

A leisurely first half of the week in Anguilla was shattered during the sail over to the USVIs, where visa issues gave us a real headache. Thankfully we were still able to get to St. Thomas in time to greet Laura’s parents!

Captain’s log

23rd Feb: Laura released her inner chef and created caramelised pineapple on cinnamon toast out of leftovers for breakfast, which was a phenomenal way to start the day. After smashing out some blog admin in the morning, we then dinghied into the beach where a bar tender has promised us coverage of the Wales vs. England Six Nations match and he duly delivered – the wrong team won unfortunately, but we had some amazing Goat Nachos and then played cornhole for who had to clean the bilge (not me!). We then both got lost in the new Bill Bryson book for the rest of the day.

[On whelks] “If you have never dined on this delicacy, you may get the same experience by finding an old golf ball, removing the cover and eating what remains.”

Bill Bryson, The Road to Little Dribbling

24th Feb: Took advantage of a rental car delivery service so we could explore the island and started off with a hike around the secluded NE end, followed by a trip to see some invisible petroglyphs. A strong Christian heritage meant almost everything on the island was closed on a Sunday, so we joined a long line of locals in buying their traditional Sunday lunch from the supermarket hot buffet. Then we engaged in a cross-codes bouldering and snorkelling expedition to Little Bay (which had good sea life if no promised snorkel trail) before finishing with a local craft beer (AXA) on the picturesque yet populated Rendezvous Bay.

25th Feb: Spent the morning cleaning, de-rusting, sharpening and organising all the tools in the workroom – there was a lot of rust, which continues to amaze me given that almost all our tools are ‘stainless’ steel. The second of our four St Martin avocado’s finally ripened (after 10 days!), which was a cause for much celebration and guac. We readied Serenity for the longish sail to the USVIs the next day, and then said goodbye to Anguilla with dinner at the suitably named Sandbar restaurant (worth returning for the pulled pork sliders alone).

26th Feb: Taking our leave from Anguilla, we broke up the passage to the USVI with a stop at Dog Island, where we were joined by an informal flotilla of Sunsail boats run by Washington Sailing Club. After playing a minor role in helping a kayaker in distress, we shared some beers with their lead skipper Joe and his crew on Mid-Fifty and traded ciguatera warnings for croakies. We then aligned our overnight sail to St Thomas with the optimal fishing window according to Solunar theory to no avail, but at least the night watches were squall-free and so we eased our way downwind in 20 knots under just the genoa.

27-28th Feb: As the sun rose and St John emerged on the horizon, a monster fish hit our port reel and before I knew it we were nearly out of line. Thankfully(?), it was so big, it was able to bite through the two wire leaders on the hook and so we didn’t lose the lure. We then unknowingly started our hellish entry to the USVIs (see Story of the Week below).

1st Mar: Laura’s parents were now due to arrive in the late afternoon, so we thought we’d take advantage of the relatively settled marina conditions to change a fitting at the top of the mast, but after two and half hours up there (and a now impressive tan line) I had to admit defeat as the new part wasn’t a good fit. The length of time I spent up there was partly due to Laura’s memory failing her on some knot tying, and she agreed upon my return that a beer was probably a fair ‘mea culpa’ in the circumstances. Laura then grabbed a local (party?) bus to the airport and helped her parents navigate the USVIs interesting road system before we got to welcome them aboard Serenity for the first time.

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Story of the week

As alluded to in the Captain’s Log, our arrival in the US Virgin Island’s (USVIs) was far from a seamless process and has definitely leapfrogged its way straight to the top of our worst check-in experiences list. It actually started off a couple of weeks previously in St Martin, where a couple of British cruisers had mentioned that they had obtained separate specific visas from an embassy so that they could visit the USVIs, although they admitted they weren’t sure if they were necessary. With no embassies on route between us and the USVI, this would make meeting up with Laura’s parents in St Thomas tricky for me (although Laura was obviously fine), and so we set about researching why my current general visa for the US (under ESTA) wasn’t appropriate.

What we discovered was a complete lack of clarity / numerous contradictions on both the US government websites and cruising forums. Some people concurred with our cruising friends, whilst others insisted they had successfully visited the USVIs via yacht with an ESTA. We had some personal experience with the USVIs back in 2015, and remembering that I hadn’t got a separate visa during that visit, we decided to push ahead and hope for the best as there didn’t seem to be any other option. Fast forward to the morning of the 27th Feb, and we parked up in Cruz Bay on St John to begin the process.

During our research on the US Customs website, we had encountered numerous references to the ‘ROAM App’, which was cited as the preferred way for boats to submit their applications to US Customs – Laura obviously had downloaded this in advance over WiFi in Anguilla and we were able to send our application off within minutes of dropping the hook. The app duly informed us that the application had been received and status was pending, so we sat back and waited to see what would happen. Other boats were parking up around us with clearly the same end goal in mind, but they all immediately jumped into dinghies and went ashore – we assumed they hadn’t heard of the app and that we would be well on our way whilst they were still filling in the paperwork. When an hour later, the crew of the third boat to arrive after us returned from their shore visit and set off with formalities complete, we realised things weren’t going to be that easy…

Laura called the help number on the US Customs website and after being redirected three times and waiting for twenty minutes, she was informed that our application would be dealt with in the next thirty minutes. Forty five minutes after this she called again and this time an exasperated agent told her St John’s didn’t accept ROAM applications, and reprimanded her for wasting their time with phone calls. Laura was shell-shocked by this treatment seeing as she had only been trying to follow the stated directions on the website, but we got all our papers together and took the dinghy ashore.

The customs building had two unmarked doors, and so we headed for the nearest one only to be shouted at by a security guard that the other door was for visitors – thanking him for his advice if not his courtesy, we tried other door only to be shouted at by the agents inside as they were already dealing with someone. So we waited outside in the midday sun for ten minutes and I mused on how I had got this far through life without understanding that formal border security and politeness were mutually exclusive.

My thoughts were interrupted by the window over our heads opening, and the customs agent asking if we were ready to submit our paperwork yet. Laura explained the situation regarding ROAM and that we hadn’t even been allowed inside yet to get the paperwork, which seemed to irritate the agent further but she eventually relented and let Laura in long enough to collect the forms, before asking her to go back outside to fill them in. The lack of tables and pens made this a remarkable challenge, but clearly tenacity was a criteria that incoming visitors needed to be assessed on, and so we did our best with the tools we had. When Laura’s own pen ran out, I suggested we finish signing the form in blood, but someone else in line handed over their pen before I was able to locate a sufficiently sharp rock.

The form had been difficult to fill in as all of the fields were marked as mandatory yet most of them related to the types of cargo we were carrying and other ‘commercial vessel’ questions. We did our best, but unsurprisingly the officer took one look at our efforts and deemed it insufficient. We were about to try again when she noticed my British passport and that was when she gave us her first smile. It was clearly an unnatural expression for her, resembling the toothy grin of a shark whose just seen an injured seal.

She quickly discovered that I had been hoping to enter on my ESTA, and delighted in informing me that this wasn’t possible as my ESTA had expired. This was news to me, as I had checked the status on the US website two days before, but foolishly I tried to politely raise this with her instead of grovelling before her, begging for forgiveness for my temerity in even considering trying to visit the US. At this point her colleague joined the fray and made it clear that if I wasn’t back in international waters within the hour, I would be sent to Guantanamo with others of my kind. So we tried to leave, but then discovered that we couldn’t until Laura had paid US Customs $12 for the inconvenience of parking our dinghy at their dock.

Back on Serenity, we took a deep breath and tried our best to compose ourselves. I was ready to turn Serenity into a floating Molotov and drive it straight into the customs dock, but the customs agent had gleefully mentioned one other option as we were hustled out the door. We would need to take Serenity to the BVI (where visiting yachtmen are treated warmly as tourists instead of potential convicts), where I could then take a ferry to St Thomas (apparently you CAN enter on an ESTA if you arrive by commercial vessel) and Laura could sail Serenity across on her own to try her luck with customs again. It had a lot of downsides (which is likely the source of the customs agent’s mirth) including costing over $200, needing Laura to make her first solo voyage including anchoring, and we would need to leave straight away, but it was the only option we had left. So we set off at full speed for Soper’s Hole on Tortola, arriving 20 minutes before customs closed.

High/low lights of the next 24 hours included:

• A 5am taxi so I could get a ferry from Road Town to St Thomas with the world’s sickest taxi driver (think lots of phlegm, and then triple it)
• Laura doing an amazing job moving Serenity across without any issues and waving to me as I passed her in the ferry
• US Customs finally admitting Laura and Serenity, and bizarrely returning my hat to her after I forgot it in the previous day’s proceedings
• Our marina in St Thomas refusing to help me get out to Laura on Serenity for the final park, leading me to end up borrowing a paddle board from some local cruisers (so close to swimming!)
• Laura’s parents discovering their flight was cancelled, delaying their arrival by 24 hours…

The only good news was that we did get into St Thomas in time for Laura’s parents to visit, and as we sat waiting for them in Red Hook marina, I tried to process the whole experience. I’ve always struggled to reconcile the numerous wonderful friendships that I have with Americans with the uncaring and uncompromising behemoth of the American state that was so perfectly personified in this instance by its border personnel. Perhaps it is a variation on the old “love the sinner, hate the sin” teaching – how about “Love Americans (especially those that travel outside the US), Hate America”? I know that some travel to the US is unavoidable for me, but this experience has certainly left me wanting to minimise that where I can.

Whatever happens, this has forced me to re-acknowledge how thankful I am that Laura was willing to move to the UK, sparing me God knows what kind of interactions I would have had to endure for me to move there – combined with her bravery in moving the boat on her own, she is the landslide winner of prestigious Serenity Crew Member of the Week (sponsored by Carib). We’ve also agreed to leave the USVIs as soon as Laura’s folks head home, and thereby minimise any positive impact we can have on this economy. I know its petty and will have negligible impact, but it will help us to feel better / put this behind us. In fact, the act of writing this post has been extremely cathartic, and I thank you all for bearing with the rantiness – I promise next is the sunnier outlook of my other half, who has the reigns for next week’s post 🙂

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Parting thoughts

So despite referencing the Bill Bryson ‘The Road to Little Dibbling’ book above, both Laura and I have been forced to give it up, which we are both surprised by given how much we loved his other books. This one was meant to be a reprise on his ‘Notes from a Small Island’ (a collection of short stories recounting his experiences in Britain as an American), but despite starting where this left off, it quickly became repetitive and overly negative. So we wouldn’t recommend this to anyone, but would very much encourage anyone who hasn’t tried ‘Notes from a Small Island’ and ‘Notes from a Big Country’ to do so.