All you need is a few days in St. Bart's (St. Barth) to understand why they call it the French Riviera of the Caribbean. It is an island I never heard much about, perhaps because they have chased many an outsider away with their prices and attitudes. But if you can stomach it just long enough to find your way out of Port Gustavia, you will find gorgeous, secluded beaches, very charming villages and people. The French native to the island are extremely patient and hospitable. At the patisserie (pastery shop) a girl broke out the French-English dictionary in an attempt to understand us, and a waiter at a restaurant serving local cuisine brought us a complimentary flask of house rum following dinner.As soon as we dropped anchor in the harbor of Port Gustavia, we were hit with the realization that we were in very different cruising grounds than we were used to. We were sailing with the big dogs now, bigger boats, bigger pockets and bigger egos. So big, there's very little room left for little boats and people like us to fit in, literally. You must be very good at the helm and quick to drop an anchor to negotiate the very tight spaces left in busy ports like these.
It was only the beginning of the winter, and already the outer harbor was filled with vessels donning flags from all over Europe. With so many languages spoken, the universal mode of communication is body language. A local man who spoke English was kind enough to offer us his mooring ball to get closer to shore. As soon as we tied on the mooring lines, it was apparent our boat was swinging too close to a French trimaran (three hulls). The man aboard, who didn't speak English was technically supposed to move his boat at anchor. A firm stance with arms crossed over his chest exuded the more stereotypical French arrogance and inflexibility. We didn't feel like arguing with that. Three hulls trumped our monohull.
As we took our dinghy into port, we were greeted by rows of megayachts berthed all along the promenade. I had never seen poweryachts so big. The one above has a garage in the back end. If you look closely, you'll notice that it's open and there's a fishing boat inside. Only a few minutes ashore taught us that unlike Bermuda, friendliness was not expected but actually frowned upon. My hellos and good afternoons were either ignored or received dirty looks. Alrighty then! I must place a disclaimer on this, however. It seemed I typically encountered this behavior close to centers frequented by the megayachters.
It was interesting to get a glimpse into this strange new world, where the streets bustled with young men and women wearing matching shorts, skirts and polos that featured the name of the yacht they worked on. Crews of people swarmed around the yachts and luxury dinghies (dingies with steering wheel consoles), endlessly buffing and waxing hulls, answering their walkie talkies and reporting back to captains at the other end of the boat through their headsets. Virtually anything you needed could be obtained by pushing a button.
A breakfast along the waterfront, confirmed that we were no longer bystanders to this world of extravagance, as omelets were 10 Euros or more ($15 US) not including the ingredients like tomato, pepper, cheese...which was 1 Euro extra. There were additional charges for splitting plates and each tiny cup of coffee (all espresso) was another 2 Euros. We had lunch ashore on our first day after anchoring, too tired after a night of being up on watch followed by a morning of boat chores and taking care of general business like reporting to customs. I chose wisely, unbeknownst to me by ordering an Amstel Light. Stephen and John were tricked by the cheaper Heineken. It seemed too good to be true until the little pony bottles arrived. Stephen now refuses to drink another Heineken out of sheer principle.
We headed out of Gustavia to Anse de Colombier, in search of quiet beaches and anchorages. Atop the island sat a home once owned by the Rockefellers. This part of the island is so remote, you can only get there by boat or by hiking the trail in. We dinghied less than 100 feet to shore to watch the sunset, but happened upon a scene far more entertaining.
Chartering a boat with or without a captain is an excellent way to see the islands in a way you'll never get to if you're on a cruise ship or staying at a resort close to port. We highly recommend it, since we had the trip of a lifetime chartering in the San Blas, Panama. When we chartered, we were very new to sailing and would have had a rough time figuring out the anchorages, how to barter, where to fish, etc. That's why chartering a boat with a captain was the way to go. When boats are chartered independently by people with limited sailing experience, it can be a less than relaxing vacation for its crew and everyone anchored around them. There are islands like Anguilla that we probably won't sail to just because charter boats are abundant and there's a good chance you might get bumped into. The road less traveled is well worth it in the end.
The next morning we hiked the trail to the top of the island and over the hillside to other beaches. Every part of this hike was beautiful, filled with iguanas, butterlies, and tons of wild flowers and plants like type of cactus with two red blooms that form a pair of eyes (or a pair of something else depending on your imagination). The islands of St. Bart's surprised us with their landscapes that reminded us of the southwestern U.S., covered with all kinds of cactus and red rocks similar to Sedona, AZ.
The trail led along the edge of steep cliffs overlooking the shoreline and powerful waves crashing into rocks below. As I walked this path, I was grabbing for the side at times to be sure I wasn't going to step out into nothing and take a tumble to an unpleasant fate below. I kept stopping every few feet to take another picture, probably annoying Stephen and John. I felt like I was entering an enchanted garden as the path became more closed in by overgrowth and natural archways formed by rock or vines and low hanging trees.
We followed the trail until we descended upon the town at Flammand's Beach. Unlike the beach on the lee side at Colombier, this one produced waves big enough to knock Stephen and John around and wear them out. For those of you who know either one of them, that takes a lot. I felt like a Mom keeping an amused but protective eye on them as they disappeared and tumbled beneath the waves like little boys. A few seconds would lapse as I waited for them to reappear. They always emerged cheering and laughing until they could barely walk to shore.
Back at the boat, the beach along Colombier was filling up with sunbathers and more hikers. The anchorage had more sailboats, charter cats and French fishing boats with topless sunbathers. Stephen and John set out on the dinghy in search of snorkeling while I set up a chair at the bow of the boat and cracked open a Red Stripe. Chilling in the Caribbean sunshine on my own sailboat in the middle of December, I finally felt like I had arrived to the place I had dreamed of and prepared for, for 3 years. I enjoyed watching the scenery, including those that gazed over at our boat, maybe wondering how we found ourselves here, the whole way from Baltimore, MD.
We cast off from Colombier later that afternoon and motored the short distance back to Gustavia for sunset at Shell Beach, very popular among the locals. I felt very American, bogged down by all my beach accessories: beach blanket, chairs, cooler, wine carrier. Everyone else seemed to be traveling light, even wearing less clothing. I think John and Stephen probably enjoyed this one. We had never seen so many many shells or topless women on a beach before. Unlike Jamaica, where the only people on the nude beach are the ones you don't want to see naked, almost everyone in St. Bart's was gorgeous.
It was interesting to see how natural it was for them to hang out in groups, engaging in conversation fully exposed. It's even common for the tourism guides to feature nudity. These are guides that you can pick up just about anywhere. Naked women from cover to cover advertising anything from jewelry to IBM laptops. I thought for a minute about taking my top off on my own boat while Stephen and John were away, but even then I couldn't bring myself to do it. I guess I spent too many years in Catholic School to free myself of Puritan ideals. Parents with small children allowed them to run on the beaches clothing free. It becomes like second nature to them so they aren't plagued with the self-consciousness that we are. While many of the French are Christian, it's like they skipped over the story of creation. You know, that part where Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden of Eden and they finally notice that they're naked. These people aren't aware they left the Garden of Eden. With palm trees and white sand never more than a few blocks away, it's easy to see why.
The next day we rented a car and toured the rest of St. Bart's. It seemed pretty easy to negotiate on the price. As the man at the rental place said to John, "For you, I give the special" - a PT Cruiser convertible for around 50 Euro. With top down, we felt very chic driving around the island. This was the best way to see the panoramic views around every corner. We drove from beach to beach, snorkeling at Anse de Cayes and stopping at Saline (featured in first photo) for another wine and cheese-filled sunset. With baguettes of course!! This was my favorite beach for swimming. The water was the temperature of a lukewarm bath and the water was clear to the bottom with just enough current to keep you afloat and carry you in to shore. It was at this beach that we experienced the trade offs that come with public nudity. There's something about a dude emerging from the water totally in the buff that is shocking, and maybe disturbing according to the pained expressions on John and Stephen's faces. We were also reminded that some of the French prefer not to shave.
Driving around the island was thrilling and a little scary. Everyone drove fast despite the crazy blind turns and steep drop-offs. As narrow as they were, the roads were actually wider than Bermuda. The port of Gustavia was the busiest with traffic, and the French are like Americans in that they love to lay on the horn. This is partly because people think nothing of leaving their car running in the middle of a busy street while they run into a store to pick something up. And parking the car was the scariest of all! When we got back to Gustavia, the only spaces available were on inclines so steep you weren't sure that the emergency brake would work. Poor John was on edge paralell parking as the PT Cruiser drifted within inches of the car behind us. Way to work the brake John!
Once we had our fill of the main island, we checked out of customs before stopping at Isle de Forchue, a desolate island that is a nature marine park, belonging to St. Bart's. Immigration on St. Bart's gives bureaucracy a whole new meaning. When we checked in, they gave Stephen a hard time about not bringing his own pen. This was an entirely different experience than checking into Bermuda, where the customs officers were very accomodating. We had a minor squall sailing over to Isle de Forchue, with winds gusting up to 30 knots. It was a short but intense sail as the winds blew strong and kicked up the seas a little. The winds pushed us over there in no time (less than an hour), and approaching this anchorage was breathtaking.
There were very few boats moored and we had the entire island to ourselves the whole time we were here. The island was inhabited only by goats for years, and they pulled the last of the remaining goats off the island after they had managed to eat every ounce of vegetation until it was practically barren. Less than 10 years ago, they began replanting trees in the gulley. Now it is picture perfect, with all the colors of the rainbow: red rockfaces and cactus blooms, orange clay and mud, yellow grasses and butterflies, green cactus and shrubs, blue sky and ocean, purple flowers, and pink and lavender sunsets.
The morning after we arrived, Stephen cooked us brunch while John went for a swim around the boat, discovering a huge fish hanging out by our keel that resembled a baracuda. John had definitely spotted a baracuda, also by the keel, at the anchorage over in Gustavia. This one may have been a wahoo, but John didn't want to get too close to find out and jumped back on the boat. I commend him for sticking around long enough to have a good look and ponder this. Suddenly the area around our boat became a live aquarium with big fish and small silvery fish with blue and yellow-green fins. They practically leaped out of the water as we fed them scraps of bread and fat from our ham. Then Stephen decided to take the opportunity to cast his line out. I had forgotten about the strict regulations prohibiting fishing of any kind on the nature reserve. Fortunately, he didn't catch anything.
The island had over 4 peaks for good climbing and amazing views of St. Bart's and St. Martin. Stephen and I climbed two of them. The second one made my heart race and tested my fear of heights. I have climbed several peaks in NY's Adirondacks, including Mt. Marcy, the highest in NY state and never had the butterflies like I did on this one. I almost stopped halfway up the rock but pushed myself to get to the top. It amazes me how Stephen and John practically run up the sides of these things like they're billy goats. They made me nervous a few times over the course of this whole trip, balancing themselves on rocks suspended on the edge of bluffs where it would only take a strong breeze or a few sliding rocks to make you lose your footing.
We hiked to the top with our video camera and took video to try to share the experience - check out the video link on the side of the blog. Unsure of how I was going to get down, Stephen scouted the best path to traverse to a grove of trees where we hung out in the shade and looked down onto Synchronicity (see spec in lower left corner of photo above). John managed to hike two more peaks and discovered a blow hole at the end of the island - an opening that went straight through to the ocean where water rose up with every wave that crashed on shore.
Despite what our friends and loved ones might think, time doesn't slow down in paradise - at least it hasn't yet for us. Saturday came quickly, and it was time to get John over to St. Maarten (Dutch side) where he would catch his flight home. Hours of leisure are interrupted by petty frustrations that come with the logistics of living a lifestyle "free" of many technologies and conveniences. All the things that make life easier and more comfortable while also enslaving us to the modern world. And now I will quote the very silly movie made by the makers of South Park, "Freedom isn't free, there's a hefty f*&%in fee, freedom costs a buck 'o 5." - Team America. Do not mistake this for complaining. I consider every single day on this journey a blessing and will gladly trade instant gratification for life's hard earned pauses. I feel so fortunate that we are able to do this for whatever time we are allowed. I see every sunset with a fresh set of eyes, and savor every last drop of wine while feeling the difference between textures of sand against my toes. I spend less time thinking about the past or the future, and much more time focusesd in the present.
As we took our dinghy into port, we were greeted by rows of megayachts berthed all along the promenade. I had never seen poweryachts so big. The one above has a garage in the back end. If you look closely, you'll notice that it's open and there's a fishing boat inside. Only a few minutes ashore taught us that unlike Bermuda, friendliness was not expected but actually frowned upon. My hellos and good afternoons were either ignored or received dirty looks. Alrighty then! I must place a disclaimer on this, however. It seemed I typically encountered this behavior close to centers frequented by the megayachters.
It was interesting to get a glimpse into this strange new world, where the streets bustled with young men and women wearing matching shorts, skirts and polos that featured the name of the yacht they worked on. Crews of people swarmed around the yachts and luxury dinghies (dingies with steering wheel consoles), endlessly buffing and waxing hulls, answering their walkie talkies and reporting back to captains at the other end of the boat through their headsets. Virtually anything you needed could be obtained by pushing a button.
A breakfast along the waterfront, confirmed that we were no longer bystanders to this world of extravagance, as omelets were 10 Euros or more ($15 US) not including the ingredients like tomato, pepper, cheese...which was 1 Euro extra. There were additional charges for splitting plates and each tiny cup of coffee (all espresso) was another 2 Euros. We had lunch ashore on our first day after anchoring, too tired after a night of being up on watch followed by a morning of boat chores and taking care of general business like reporting to customs. I chose wisely, unbeknownst to me by ordering an Amstel Light. Stephen and John were tricked by the cheaper Heineken. It seemed too good to be true until the little pony bottles arrived. Stephen now refuses to drink another Heineken out of sheer principle. A few streets back, or I should say "up" from the waterfront - they are very steep, we discovered cheap eats at a patisserie that bakes all the pasteries for the other restaurants. Chocolate and almond croissants, strawberry tartines and coconut custard, all for less than $3. Baguettes were abundant and $1 each. The thing to do is drop by the bakery in the morning and load your shopping bag with baguettes. Throughout the morning, it seemed that everyone you passed on the street was carrying at least one. When in Rome, do as the Romans do...with tons of baguettes, we had to figure out what to do with them. You can only have them with so much cheese and wine before that gets old. Stephen had the brilliant idea of using them as rolls for turkey and breakfast sandwiches. Regular bread will never be the same.
While the French may be generous with their pasteries, they are stingy when it comes to coffee. When you order a "large" they fill the little cup the whole way instead of only half way to the top. This frustrated the hell out of me and John, longing for a normal sized coffee. Each morning we ended up buying two cups - there are no free refills. I like a strong coffee, so espresso was fine with me. It put an extra spring in my step, but also waged war my stomach after one too many. So that's why they make them so small!! John was not down with the super strong coffee and longed for a cup of Starbucks or any old-fashioned cup of American coffee. Contrary to popular belief, Starbucks is not as global as you think.
We headed out of Gustavia to Anse de Colombier, in search of quiet beaches and anchorages. Atop the island sat a home once owned by the Rockefellers. This part of the island is so remote, you can only get there by boat or by hiking the trail in. We dinghied less than 100 feet to shore to watch the sunset, but happened upon a scene far more entertaining. A group that chartered a catamaran was having trouble getting their guests back to the boat. Unable to manuever the engine of their dinghy so that they could pull up to the beach, women were wading fully clothed up to their shoulders in the water and then struggling to hoist themselves into the dinghy. One almost made it, head into the dinghy and ass suspended in air, she lowered herself back in the water probably realizing we were enjoying the show! Our laughter was unleashed when they gave up on trying to get her back into the dinghy and tossed her a line to tow her all the way back to the boat. "That's just ridiculous!" Stephen managed to catch his breath long enough to speak.
Chartering a boat with or without a captain is an excellent way to see the islands in a way you'll never get to if you're on a cruise ship or staying at a resort close to port. We highly recommend it, since we had the trip of a lifetime chartering in the San Blas, Panama. When we chartered, we were very new to sailing and would have had a rough time figuring out the anchorages, how to barter, where to fish, etc. That's why chartering a boat with a captain was the way to go. When boats are chartered independently by people with limited sailing experience, it can be a less than relaxing vacation for its crew and everyone anchored around them. There are islands like Anguilla that we probably won't sail to just because charter boats are abundant and there's a good chance you might get bumped into. The road less traveled is well worth it in the end.
The next morning we hiked the trail to the top of the island and over the hillside to other beaches. Every part of this hike was beautiful, filled with iguanas, butterlies, and tons of wild flowers and plants like type of cactus with two red blooms that form a pair of eyes (or a pair of something else depending on your imagination). The islands of St. Bart's surprised us with their landscapes that reminded us of the southwestern U.S., covered with all kinds of cactus and red rocks similar to Sedona, AZ. 
The trail led along the edge of steep cliffs overlooking the shoreline and powerful waves crashing into rocks below. As I walked this path, I was grabbing for the side at times to be sure I wasn't going to step out into nothing and take a tumble to an unpleasant fate below. I kept stopping every few feet to take another picture, probably annoying Stephen and John. I felt like I was entering an enchanted garden as the path became more closed in by overgrowth and natural archways formed by rock or vines and low hanging trees. 
We followed the trail until we descended upon the town at Flammand's Beach. Unlike the beach on the lee side at Colombier, this one produced waves big enough to knock Stephen and John around and wear them out. For those of you who know either one of them, that takes a lot. I felt like a Mom keeping an amused but protective eye on them as they disappeared and tumbled beneath the waves like little boys. A few seconds would lapse as I waited for them to reappear. They always emerged cheering and laughing until they could barely walk to shore. 
Back at the boat, the beach along Colombier was filling up with sunbathers and more hikers. The anchorage had more sailboats, charter cats and French fishing boats with topless sunbathers. Stephen and John set out on the dinghy in search of snorkeling while I set up a chair at the bow of the boat and cracked open a Red Stripe. Chilling in the Caribbean sunshine on my own sailboat in the middle of December, I finally felt like I had arrived to the place I had dreamed of and prepared for, for 3 years. I enjoyed watching the scenery, including those that gazed over at our boat, maybe wondering how we found ourselves here, the whole way from Baltimore, MD. 
We cast off from Colombier later that afternoon and motored the short distance back to Gustavia for sunset at Shell Beach, very popular among the locals. I felt very American, bogged down by all my beach accessories: beach blanket, chairs, cooler, wine carrier. Everyone else seemed to be traveling light, even wearing less clothing. I think John and Stephen probably enjoyed this one. We had never seen so many many shells or topless women on a beach before. Unlike Jamaica, where the only people on the nude beach are the ones you don't want to see naked, almost everyone in St. Bart's was gorgeous. 
It was interesting to see how natural it was for them to hang out in groups, engaging in conversation fully exposed. It's even common for the tourism guides to feature nudity. These are guides that you can pick up just about anywhere. Naked women from cover to cover advertising anything from jewelry to IBM laptops. I thought for a minute about taking my top off on my own boat while Stephen and John were away, but even then I couldn't bring myself to do it. I guess I spent too many years in Catholic School to free myself of Puritan ideals. Parents with small children allowed them to run on the beaches clothing free. It becomes like second nature to them so they aren't plagued with the self-consciousness that we are. While many of the French are Christian, it's like they skipped over the story of creation. You know, that part where Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden of Eden and they finally notice that they're naked. These people aren't aware they left the Garden of Eden. With palm trees and white sand never more than a few blocks away, it's easy to see why.
The next day we rented a car and toured the rest of St. Bart's. It seemed pretty easy to negotiate on the price. As the man at the rental place said to John, "For you, I give the special" - a PT Cruiser convertible for around 50 Euro. With top down, we felt very chic driving around the island. This was the best way to see the panoramic views around every corner. We drove from beach to beach, snorkeling at Anse de Cayes and stopping at Saline (featured in first photo) for another wine and cheese-filled sunset. With baguettes of course!! This was my favorite beach for swimming. The water was the temperature of a lukewarm bath and the water was clear to the bottom with just enough current to keep you afloat and carry you in to shore. It was at this beach that we experienced the trade offs that come with public nudity. There's something about a dude emerging from the water totally in the buff that is shocking, and maybe disturbing according to the pained expressions on John and Stephen's faces. We were also reminded that some of the French prefer not to shave. 
Driving around the island was thrilling and a little scary. Everyone drove fast despite the crazy blind turns and steep drop-offs. As narrow as they were, the roads were actually wider than Bermuda. The port of Gustavia was the busiest with traffic, and the French are like Americans in that they love to lay on the horn. This is partly because people think nothing of leaving their car running in the middle of a busy street while they run into a store to pick something up. And parking the car was the scariest of all! When we got back to Gustavia, the only spaces available were on inclines so steep you weren't sure that the emergency brake would work. Poor John was on edge paralell parking as the PT Cruiser drifted within inches of the car behind us. Way to work the brake John! 
Once we had our fill of the main island, we checked out of customs before stopping at Isle de Forchue, a desolate island that is a nature marine park, belonging to St. Bart's. Immigration on St. Bart's gives bureaucracy a whole new meaning. When we checked in, they gave Stephen a hard time about not bringing his own pen. This was an entirely different experience than checking into Bermuda, where the customs officers were very accomodating. We had a minor squall sailing over to Isle de Forchue, with winds gusting up to 30 knots. It was a short but intense sail as the winds blew strong and kicked up the seas a little. The winds pushed us over there in no time (less than an hour), and approaching this anchorage was breathtaking. 
There were very few boats moored and we had the entire island to ourselves the whole time we were here. The island was inhabited only by goats for years, and they pulled the last of the remaining goats off the island after they had managed to eat every ounce of vegetation until it was practically barren. Less than 10 years ago, they began replanting trees in the gulley. Now it is picture perfect, with all the colors of the rainbow: red rockfaces and cactus blooms, orange clay and mud, yellow grasses and butterflies, green cactus and shrubs, blue sky and ocean, purple flowers, and pink and lavender sunsets. 
The morning after we arrived, Stephen cooked us brunch while John went for a swim around the boat, discovering a huge fish hanging out by our keel that resembled a baracuda. John had definitely spotted a baracuda, also by the keel, at the anchorage over in Gustavia. This one may have been a wahoo, but John didn't want to get too close to find out and jumped back on the boat. I commend him for sticking around long enough to have a good look and ponder this. Suddenly the area around our boat became a live aquarium with big fish and small silvery fish with blue and yellow-green fins. They practically leaped out of the water as we fed them scraps of bread and fat from our ham. Then Stephen decided to take the opportunity to cast his line out. I had forgotten about the strict regulations prohibiting fishing of any kind on the nature reserve. Fortunately, he didn't catch anything. 
The island had over 4 peaks for good climbing and amazing views of St. Bart's and St. Martin. Stephen and I climbed two of them. The second one made my heart race and tested my fear of heights. I have climbed several peaks in NY's Adirondacks, including Mt. Marcy, the highest in NY state and never had the butterflies like I did on this one. I almost stopped halfway up the rock but pushed myself to get to the top. It amazes me how Stephen and John practically run up the sides of these things like they're billy goats. They made me nervous a few times over the course of this whole trip, balancing themselves on rocks suspended on the edge of bluffs where it would only take a strong breeze or a few sliding rocks to make you lose your footing.
We hiked to the top with our video camera and took video to try to share the experience - check out the video link on the side of the blog. Unsure of how I was going to get down, Stephen scouted the best path to traverse to a grove of trees where we hung out in the shade and looked down onto Synchronicity (see spec in lower left corner of photo above). John managed to hike two more peaks and discovered a blow hole at the end of the island - an opening that went straight through to the ocean where water rose up with every wave that crashed on shore. 
Despite what our friends and loved ones might think, time doesn't slow down in paradise - at least it hasn't yet for us. Saturday came quickly, and it was time to get John over to St. Maarten (Dutch side) where he would catch his flight home. Hours of leisure are interrupted by petty frustrations that come with the logistics of living a lifestyle "free" of many technologies and conveniences. All the things that make life easier and more comfortable while also enslaving us to the modern world. And now I will quote the very silly movie made by the makers of South Park, "Freedom isn't free, there's a hefty f*&%in fee, freedom costs a buck 'o 5." - Team America. Do not mistake this for complaining. I consider every single day on this journey a blessing and will gladly trade instant gratification for life's hard earned pauses. I feel so fortunate that we are able to do this for whatever time we are allowed. I see every sunset with a fresh set of eyes, and savor every last drop of wine while feeling the difference between textures of sand against my toes. I spend less time thinking about the past or the future, and much more time focusesd in the present. Spending a week of sunsets in different anchorages throughout St. Bart's wasn't a bad way to start life in the Caribbean. After St. Maarten/St. Martin, we hope to be heading to islands less developed. Time may not slow down, but we'll keep sailing until we get far enough away so that time is less encumbered by modern civilization's many distractions.
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