Homeward Bound

Jon, Maggie, and Mark -- St. Maarten

We returned to the islands a few days ago, having flown home to be with our son, his now-wife, and our ever-extending family for the wedding of David and Marisa.  On a sunny Saturday in May, in front of the gentle breakers of the Atlantic Ocean, David and Marisa were married, surrounded by friends and family.  Our hearts remain filled with joy, as they enjoy their honeymoon in Maine.

The trip home was filled with surreal and magical moments, from seeing friends for the first time in years to experiencing the D.C. realities of traffic and noise.  With a bit more reflection, I’ll write about the experience of returning home, however briefly, after over 2 + years at sea; for now, my focus is on this last, homebound-leg of our circumnavigation.

On these final six weeks, we’ll be joined by friends and family; on this first leg, from St. Maarten to the Turks and Caicos, we are blessed with the presence of my brother Mark and his daughter, Maggie.  We’ve spent a few days here in St. Maarten, and leave in a few hours for Virgin Gorda, in the British Virgin Islands.  After a few days there, we’ll then sail the 500 miles to the Turks and Caicos, where they will fly home.

More postings to follow, as we wend our way north and west to our home port, our friends, and our family!

Islands in the Sun

Customs office in Barbuda

After Antigua, we continued our northward march toward St. Maarten, where we have a reservation at a marina that will allow us to leave the boat and return home for our son's wedding.  It's a bit dizzying, bouncing from island to island, confronting the alternating colonialist legacies of the French and the English.  Most of the former English island colonies are independent, and, like Fiji and Tonga in the Pacific, struggle economically.  Most of the former French island colonies are, well, still French -- like the islands of French Polynesia.  Owning to some bizarre cost-benefit calculus in the halls of Paris, the French seem to have no problem continuing to subsidize their tropical islands -- and, likewise, the locals seem to have no issue continuing to accept the largesse of the French government.

As Jennifer puts it, "the French know how to do islands."

Poling our way in Barbuda's lagoon

Just north of Antigua, and in fact a part of the country of Antigua, lies the sandy island of Barbuda, arguably home to one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.  Imagine miles and miles of fluffy pure-white sand along the protected western edge of an island whose offshore waters are a mere 20 feet deep extending a mile offshore ... we anchored there a few days, and spent time exploring the enclosed lagoon with some new friends, Dillon and Sally on Orion, themselves about to embark on a circumnavigation.  It's hard to recall our sense of unknowing anticipation at the outset of our circumnavigation, but we do recall meeting other long-distance cruisers who filled us with ideas, suggestions, and above all, confidence that we were going to make it just fine.  Good luck, Dillon and Sally and Orion!

There, we re-visited the nesting world of the massive frigate bird, last seen in numbers during our Galapagos visit of two years ago.  Poled up into the shallows by George, our local guide, these pelagic birds were content to eye us serenely as we intruded their space.

After a few days of sun and sand, we left in the late afternoon for an overnight sail to St. Barth's, one of those French islands that seems never to have lost its old world charm.  I had last been there in the early 1980s, aboard the 65 foot yacht Cygnus,  and on a lark, plugged in some data on the boat into Google.  Amazingly, up popped a portfolio of pictures from one of my crewmates at the time, chronicling the trip we all took together from St. Barth's to San Diego so many years ago.  I can't say as I can recall the specifics of many of the pictures, but it was wonderful to see the faces of my old friends from that delightful trip.  What's harder to see is the impact of time on this aging body of mine ...

Rebuilding our water system's rusted-out accumulator tank

After St. Barth's, it's a short 20 mile sail to St. Maarten, an island divided into Dutch and French sides; here, the Dutch charge boats a small fortune to anchor -- or even to tie up a a marina -- while the French have their typical laissez-faire attitude.  Regrettably for our pocketbooks, we were stuck on the Dutch side,, but on either side, the island is very cruiser-friendly, and we've been able to attend to many postponed boat chores ... yes folks, cruising remains another word for "boat work in exotic places."


We'll keep the boat here for a few weeks as we attend to our son's wedding -- which will be held on a beach, so we'll feel right at home.  As we leave the boat for a few weeks, our biggest worry is whether any of our shoes will fit after a few years of going barefoot ...

... and as we land in the States, me for the first time in 2 1/2 years, our hearts are filled with joy at the thought of David and Marisa embarking on their own lifelong voyage of love, discovery, and adventure. 

God bless you, David and Marisa!